Until today(though not as often),
in my world, I can 'hear' the mocks of people, even from animals.
When I mess up on a small thing while helping someone,
it's like I can sense that they're making fun of me in their heads.
How I can't do things right, or how maybe I do it differently.
When I'm walking alone,
I can 'hear' the mocks of people, judging on what I wear or how I walk.
When I encounter a cat on my way, I can see it starting at me. Mocking me the way  how I notice its existence. It thinks I'm stupid.
Then again, that's what cats DO. It's a full time job of theirs.
Even with friends, I can sense their mocks of people, gossiping of the way we behave or dress.
In the end,
once I've been mocked,
I'm alone in the end,
as a subconscious laughing-stalk to the eyes of others.

My world is pure and simple.

My mind is impure and complicated.

Come inside.

The beauty I see when I look at thee
with your solitary tear down your cheek
hypnotizes our hearts and makes us cry
as we touch the dampness as our gaze collides ...

I can see your longing in your words of poetry
of beauty you write each and every night
through moonlight midnight lingering in a trance
we hand you a rose to your distant glance ...

Facing your heaven waiting for the prize
holding your heart on your sleeve
tears of sorrow we can feel
your the beauty we see in your painted sky ...

Behold our aurora entranced we are
shimmer of energy on gentle wind
exploding radiant that you stand
peace overcomes in the gift of your dance ...

Dear Poetess's, here is a simple rose
you deserve more I hope it grows
one day someone will come in your life
a prophetic dream will make your day....

To my lovely poetess friends and to the ones that read every day..
You've got a friend

Debbie Brooks 2014

You told me to draw you,
so I painted your body in crimson & gold.

You told me to write you in scribe,
so I wrote you a sonnet, fourteen lines across your back.

You told me to leave a mark on you never forgotten,
so I tattooed your soul with tebori ink.

You told me to taste your scent,
so I walked down the lane, collected tobacco, & smoked a cigarette from your favourite apothecary.

You told me to find the name for the aroma that lingered when you left the room,
so I closed my eyes whilst sat beside you, & inhaled you like the cigarette I tasted on the way home.

You told me to image you naked, like Rose being drawn by Jack aboard the Titanic,
so I turned away, took a seat in the Cumberland leather chair, placed charcoal between finger & thumb, sketching an image of your silhouette in black dust ash, a memory that found me from when you slept beside me last night.

You told me to pick a flower that I gave to you the first time I whispered;
"I love you,"
so I wandered amidst the clouds & air of mountains far & wide, until I found the flower I so remembered.

In remembrance, I knew to pick such a tender delicate stem, petals so fragile they would melt in my grasp, the flower would cease to be what I loved,
for, I love you.

You are the rose in all its abstract glory,
you my dearest are no possession.

If I were to misunderstand such beauty, you would simply fade to exist,
so I sat down beside you, a painted memory,
shed a tear,
knowing this memory of you
would suffice.

© Sia Jane

in the galleries
of his dreams
the most voluptuous women could be seen
these mirages of his mind
were so real
in his REM moments

curvacious pillowed thighs
******* of tantalizing appeal
sensual libations
his hands could touch
e'en the petals of the flower's
moistened entree

the night hours of sojourning
to the female forms frames
did bring him pleasure
with the colors and textures
they did supply
how he so wishes
they were at his command
in the waking hours
of day light