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Death and beauty join together,
Star-crossed liars, insisting on truth.
Whisper their mantra, a sordid chant,
As they poison the minds of the innocent youth.

Watch the roses on her breast,
As they dance to the beat of the witch’s hex.
Entice the men and the women too,
Give them a taste of this toxic brew.

Her beasts appear, wings spread wide,
The taste of victory in their eyes.

"Come around! come around! Come one, come all!
You're formally invited to the Master's Grand Ball."

Slowly they came, their faces aglow,
Stepping in time under the archer's bow.
To the top of the mountain they climb without rest.
Only the worthy will survive this test.

And there she stands with welcoming arms open wide,
Her kind giant's face shining with pride.
A rainbow appears as the stars arise
The Devil's hidden in an Angel's disguise.

She'll crush you beneath her golden feet,
Laugh as your blood pools in the street.
Dreaming, sure, but what happens next?
When the Goddess dons her warrior's vest?

They'll paint a picture from her fallen friends,
Sit a crown of posies upon her head.
Beware the deadly Angel's wrath
To all of you who cross her path.
I remember the day I re-met you.
With friends I no longer talk to,
pink hair that had been a mistake,
and a reckless way of flirting.

I ended up on your lap that night.
Could you sense my surprise?

My hands can still feel the memories of you.
A slow smile, sad eyes, they play through my mind on loop.  
You always looked at me with such tenderness.
When did you become someone I can't recognize?

It must have happened somewhere in between the ***
and the drugs.  The kisses and the fake goodbyes.
Before you, I never knew I could be a monster.
 Mar 2013 Chris Thomas
brea
White wash walls
White starch coats
Translucent skin/veins
Vision blinded by numbers
Personality sequence
My numbers
The label stapled across my eyelids
Like a chip for feeble shoulders to bear
A dash of this
A dab of that
Normalfunctionalproductive
Happy member of society
Girls stuffed with modelling clay
Feed me lye and cigarette ash
Replace my brain with silicone
Paint cherry red lips
And tell me to be unique.
Water nymph, you are the gentle wind
Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells
Of blue echinacea spiriting the light—
Echoing sound which water makes, ring
The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals
Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark,
The dance of bees, who trace your honey
Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine.
The miraculous waters are floored under
Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests
Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild
Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness.
Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon;
Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?
Busy mind, please be still.
I need the space that thoughts don't fill.
Breathe deep and clear from down below.
Ride silent tides, the ebb and flow.
Bend and stretch with breath of fire.
Chant the words that take mind higher.
Connecting me with thee and those.
The stillness brings inspirational prose.
Patience, love, serenity.
These are the gifts you give to me.

Namaste
I was asked something today,
and at most I could only leave the subject at an indifferent tone.
It left me to question the tolerance of my own tradition.
"What is happiness, what is truth?"
Imagine getting inquired with something so philosophic,
at such a time of disarray.
Happiness-- such an abused term.
Every human is in pursuit of it,
it is natural,
it is what we strive for.
Yet, being faced with the blunt, simple question;
"What is happiness?",
I stumble.
"What is truth?",
the ability to think-- existence.
What is thought?
It is everything that we (as humans in nature) prosper in.
Random doting on a snowy Spring day--.
The words were not there
But something was stirring deep within
Insanity or brilliance, perhaps both
Understanding the fullness of its urgency has never come

I put pen to paper and wrote anyhow

I wrote what I saw within
Heaven and Earth
Unlaced and dancing
Beating upon internal drums ... I could barely hear

I put pen to paper and wrote anyhow

And though I am sure of very little
I am certain of one thing
That you and I, are pieces of all of this
This primal dance of Heaven and Earth

*So I put my pen to paper and I write anyhow
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