The Ugly Duckling

quack?

                yuck?

QUACK!

            ­    DUCK!



The Emperor's New Clothes

new?

                yeah?

BLUE!

                ­BARE!



Hansel And Gretel

bread?

                coven?

DEAD!

              ­  OVEN!



Little Red Riding Hood

eyes?

                ears?

LIES!

                SH­EARS!



Goldilocks And The Three Bears

hot?

                cold?

COT!

                SCO­LD!



The Three Little Pigs*

huff?

                sticks?*

PUFF!

                ­BRICKS!

It leans against the cold wall
Of darkness, On the fringes
between twilight before all is
Consumed within either

"Darkness"
Or
"Light"
  
As everything is enveloped
It notices through the cracks
That vent between both.

"A butterfly"

Delicately  corrodes with in
This colourless void,
But as its colour diminishes,
Forgotten, it caresses those last
Fleeting moment,s A stray beam,
Particles of light perforate  
That butterflies last moments.

It shades that upon the wall,
Subtle colours, of wings glance
Off all in the void. But as light
Moves past so does the kaleidoscope
Of radiance, it sheds a dark tear,
Touched by what momentarily
Brought beauty too its eyes.

It sits in the darkness, against
Its hollow walls, but where there
Was only black, there are now
Among those that sit, no longer
Alone as shades of grey not visible
But seen. Showing them that for a
moment, for eternity, they are not
Just one, not for eons alone.

Insomnia,
Once again we meet, I've grown accustomed to your nightly *******; a dangerous liaison in those early hours.
It's 5 o'clock in the morning, I'm tired
worn
withdrawn
the monotony of daily embargoes; assaults on my mind.

Insomnia,
You're beside me now smiling, so tainted with desire, laying beside me; skin as pale as ghost walkers of the night.
Your demonic shadow need not accompany me, stealing hours of wakeful sleep.
You're no lover to me.

"Don't you see me," you smirk.
"Of course I do," I retort.

You begin to justle with rage, splashed sanguine, green with envy. Toiled & troubled; you know day is breaking, you fear the light.

"I missed you last..." you pause...
"Oh,  you're going to give me the silent treatment? Okay, I'll just answer for you... 'I always miss my baby, every night you're absent, I know I can't live without you'.."

I turn away, tears in my eyes...

sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep

Insomnia,
You're my demon of the night. I fear how far you will bring me to my knees; begging on another star - already dead no dreams will become - for strength, hope, love.

Insomnia,
I call you my dangerous liaison, I still cling to you -
friend & foe
absent lover
lost addiction...

You keep me so deep,
                                      in love with you.

© Sia Jane

Time is a moment, lengthened
Stretched, but ever fluid,
Not stationary but ever moving
I formation of forth and back.

It is the crest upon a traveling
quantum consciousness,
We are here, behind, staring
At what is enviable.

Time is conscious thought,
That which we think later is
A thought happened in the
Past, weaving to the now
And remembered as If never
Knowing that we always had it.

We are a sting of moments,
Time is but a ticking clock, we
Are living are existence.
Past, present, future are a
locking mechanism of
Consciousness that we have
Yet in a infinite moment,
To properly unlock.

I wondered through moments of
Enlightened insanity,
I revelled in the freedom
Not a lucid thought.

I was upon the field, I contemplated
Defeat upon the thunder of
Voices raining from above,
But I was in combat, and I was
Slaying Those who would not follow.

Fallen beneath me thoughts, I was
A victim of my mind rebelling
Upon sane cohesion. They, me
I was at war within myself.

But after moments of screaming
Revelation, those that didn't not
Follow were dissipated echoes,
I was in control and I reviled
In the incoherent melody, I
Choose insanity over the day
To day problems of my mundane life.

I am one voice I am alone
But I hear a ringing in the
Distance,  It could be imagined
I could be only one in this land
Of perpetual darkness.

Could there be anyone else but
Me, I hear echoes as if something
Far but near, I am in the vastness
Of a blinding white, There has
To be more to this than me.

"I run in blackness never a direction seen"
"I run though blinded by what isn't seen"

I reach this edge as if a finite space,
Mirrored, contorted images,
An aura of what that which is
Opposite to me.

Running until I hit upon a enclosed space,
I see a detachment of what is viewed.
I'd look upon, as my features blinded
By this reflection of confusion, bathed
In purest puzzlement.*

I touch the boundary
I touch upon  the confines

"Yours"*
"Ours"

Palms  grasp upon each, a moment of clarity
As what was single parts unite as a merged
Thought of right or wrong, a conscience,
Of two parts that on meeting became the
Same but singularly separated. Voices that
Speak in sync, but always different
together and apart as *one.

I seek the silence, the quiet
Nothingness but tranquil
Thoughts. Moments intense
Seconds count ever down,
Till serenity is achieved within
My thoughts.

It wasn't always this way
The noise deafened me within
My walls. Anarchy bleed sound
Next door neighbours, raised till
The point of violence, I quenched
Her moods with one foot forward
Noise upon steps, screams then silence.

All was silent, peace in my moment
But  Castle has four walls, And with
One voiceless the others heard more,
Above was as if to come through my
Sight, Inviting those above to fall to my
Place of peace, to corrupt my silence.

Unlocked, Invited to quench the
Noise that permeates upon my
Essence. In tranquil solitude
Bathed in silence, I invite them
To sink into the abyss, I silence
The anger of needed silence.

So many moments of diluted lives
Now silenced, never to interrupt
My moment of deathly quite.
For silence is peace, tranquillity
For those silenced, needing to hear
The clarity of my vision of peace of
mind. for any that disturb my
Tranquillity will be suppressed  by **death.

I'm drifting up towards the stars,
no one can follow me there anymore,
and although you cannot hear me,
I am saying in my mind that I am sorry,
for all those times I wanted to reach for your hand,
to hold it in mine and not say a word,
to protect you from the world,
to cuddle away your tears,
to listen to your every word,
to tell you how beautiful you were
those things you never knew,
how you stole my breath as I watched you smile,
how I held your things in my hands
how I never told you how I felt
how I sometimes cried over memories,
how I touched and smelt your clothes,
In such things are the foundations of a dream,
thinking of all those things that should have been,
for the briefest of moments you will remember me,
for I will be the warm breeze that you feel,
awaking in you a distant thought,
perhaps in a passing smile,
as I drift through your soul.

I try to catch my words like fireflies
and store them in a jar.
I cannot.
Whenever I lift the lid to speak again,
the jar talks to me...
And off they fly.

In the silence,
inspired thoughts
make pleas for their own release.
Within moments
they are captured by another,
no longer mine.

Anything but silence is futile
when it comes to liberating
the true meaning of my fireflies.

/
I was very immature
My Sixth sense until then
Could not understand his words
Listened to all the strange things
How to tune in to that!
It would be a void in my soul
Felt a strong gravity
Ever would leave the door open
Pull away the home would have been without

Consistently in the nature of
Deep darkness,
Off and on beside a Chime river
Ever in the green meadow under a tree
What to get a!

But I remember
The smell of the ancient world,
The taste of the salt water,
Think the creation of
The epoch learned
After Rain very earthy flavor,
I would think would be the essence
Of the air *******

But what a surprise!
How do I know thee fragrance,
Didn't see thee before
Didn't imagine thee face
Only I have to paint
The dark night sky color in,
Sometimes wings to fly
Like a free bird,
Ever saw the weaver birds scatter house,
To be surprised to see the purple color inside
The Black berry

Slowly I grew older then
My Fifth sense,
The more active
My Sixth sense,
Like the branches grew
I saw the the ground to make
I put the plants saw the,
Seen Counterpoint to the creation of,
Seen be created of the soul
You have caused me
When I have seen
I understand that
You do not someone else
Thy existence
Is hidden within me-
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen