I have never felt like ******
With the wind screaming in my ears
He tells me to
He wants me to
He wants me to slit the mans throat
The man who killed me

The voice can not be heard
By none other but me
He screams insanity in my ears
Yelling for me to bleed

To Bleed out the revenge
Hatred
Love
Hope


But all that does not matter
Not anymore
I'm a nothing
Drifting soundlessly down this street

For I am the demon of myself
I am the man who killed me

I think
I have good taste
in music,
since I have studied it
formally,
but it occurs to me
that my taste
is sometimes
in my mouth
and that I am a phony
sometimes
about what
I really like,
for example
I used to listen
to "Twenty First Century Schizoid Man"
and loved it,
but I had
a secret crush
on Captain and Tenneille's
"Love Will Keep Us Together"
and I wouldn't tell anyone,
because it wasn't correct
to like it,
so, I am a closet fan
of Madonna,
even though
I'm not supposed to be,
and liked Prince and Michael Jackson
which, at the time,
I wasn't supposed to,
because if I told
my friends,
they would thumb
their noses.

My stilettos carried me around the city
Wandering in night's perfection
I heard the soul of music
Found myself in the most amazing blues bar

Smoke and candlelight
Set the mood for a tear stained voice
Drifting from the shadows
As a spotlight slowly spilled across her ebony face.

She could have been anywhere from 30 to 50
Dressed in a cream dress
A rose in her hair
She had the bar awestruck with wonder

She belted out lyrics in a raspy drawl
Pulled at heart strings with ease
Let her past pass her lips
While knowing fire ignited in her eyes

I leaned back
A slight smile on my lips
Sipped gold, enjoyed a slow burn
I drifted away on a song about whiskey blues

To be continued

© 2013-2014 Peach

Remember when
we were so comfortable
underneath the mid day sun
at one of our favourite festivals

the bands had long stopped
but the music still danced in our hearts
lifting our spirits to the heavens
and giving praise to this beautiful day.

we had all gathered together
but not to say goodbye;

to lay in the sweet grass
and
hold on, by the tips of our fingers
for just a few more hours...
and

get a little high

with the sun's rays ablaze and
no current riding our open backs
your skin was like wildfire
captivating, shimmering in the light

those UV rays got nothin' on you

i laid at your side with a bag
filled of sweet & sticky treats
..an archive of sorts
and asked what was your tongue's favourite taste

the finest of delights fit for a queen
sometimes require a perfect surface
and the way your black hair glimmered that day
i couldn't help but see you
as my little Cleopatra

your curves creating shadows
upon the dimples of your back
i asked if you'd mind, with a zig-zag in my hand

and you looked at me.

and you smiled.

The smell of death burns the lungs
Of a hundred thousand innocents
Steel on steel, minds on minds
Destiny is out of your hands
And you're the only one standing
A million women are still weeping
Their sons who shall never wake
What is it that you'll still take?

Do you think you are still alive?
Give up all your pathetic chores
Surrender yourself to the sword
Lay your heart down to the God of War

Sticks and stones can **** you now
Even though you escape somehow
Don't tell me it was all mistakes
You bloodied all the pools and lakes
But hey now blame the God of War
I only know what I speak for
Your demons are out in daylight
Your lust for blood you can't deny

And do you think you're still alive?
Come now all of your heartsores
Surrender yourself to the sword
Lay your heart down to the God of War

A war inside your head is on
And you've been barely holding on
Revenge is all that you crave for
Denial is all that you stand for
You took the lives, you stabbed and swiped
And You killed till your heart felt awe
But hew now blame the God of War
I only know what I speak for

I know that you're aren't alive
You've been my minion all this time
You had but been a big wild boar
Your heart has me, the God of War

The hollow comfort is your ideal state.
When nothing’s lacking or wholly great.
You’re too unhappy to fall behind,
and too content to change.
The small pleasures are the world,
and the societal ‘leisures’ are no longer your mask.

The ecstasy is the excitement. The looming
joy, the ideal and the desired are all it takes to tip you.
It’s a rare and tainted feeling,
where your mind is in the warm clouds, and your feet
are reluctantly rooted to the cold concrete.
It’s easy for the dream to melt into ash and dust,

and once this goes amiss,
you plummet into the gaping abyss,
and the things you cared about before
are already nothing because you’ve tasted much more.
You can’t even see the precipice from amongst the rocks.
A shattered statute shadow. What were you like before?

You can chase it back and do it again.
You know you can climb.
You know it.

If I were a painter
I would craft a goddess, hung
Immortal to some museum
or midst the the dusty collection of some baron
With body, flawless
Form, divine
And all of her admirers
Turning the muses flanking Apollo, jealous
But the real fire, the life giving spark
Would flare mad passion in her eyes
And the thundering, A call;
Theodora, freed from the patriarchy of old Byzantium
A bearer of the old magic, ghosts dancing from another time
Her beauty would be harmonious
To the glittering brown-gold of honeydew
And bursting,
Like a symphony loud and tremulous
All the true aesthetes, trembling
That a painter got to meet a woman so
To set his heart afire

And if I had been born a sculptor
If I had been given the power to shape
My crowning achievement
The great anthem of my time, spent
Would be a face;
A chin, gently tilted skyward
The eyes, sparkling with that unknown sea
Hair disheveled, parted, smoothing the cheeks
and the glimmer of lips,
Softly pursed;
But the eyes, the doorways to that tidal force
All of the dreams
All of the feelings, trapped and rolling, the ocean beneath
Would burst forth; A thousand church candles,
Or a gathering of street lights.
If I were a sculptor my greatest achievement would be cast in Lady's Dream
Not for the skin, but for the glittering eyes

Or if I were a composer
Working on my symphony
I would have the brasses buzzing,
and the strings
A chorus of thought
And the melody would be defined not by the loudness
But the silences
The gaps of deep thought, juxtaposed
Amongst the roaring
The soft gasps of tide being pulled back to sea
and all of the sweet undulations, the rivers of a mind
If I were a composer the audience would get a glimpse,
The briefest moment,
Of the beauty
Of quiet
The deepness
Of thought

But I am merely a poet,
A poor shaper of words
Strung out on hope,
Gambling on luck,
Trapped, eternally, to the brightness of the sun
And lost to those whirlwind emotions that govern men so
And for a moment, smiling,
I got to know the wildness in another poet's eyes
The softness of her smile,
And if I could spell love in her heart
I would
But I am merely a poet,
A poor shaper of words
And with these powers
I can merely say this:
When I say beauty
and the thoughts fall loosely on the page,
hopefully bringing forth a smile
When I say beauty,
When I say beauty
What I mean:

You.

Sometimes it's a cactus,  not a rose
that pinches the heart of a lover
though, she doesn't smell musk
or her eyes aren't lined with kohl,
he was weary and looking for an elusive spirit
which even he wasn't clear what, but found in her.

Breaking away from the caravan
hurtling down the dusty road
to an unknown town in that arid desert
he spoke to the cactus, whose eyes met his
when a shiver passed through the psyche of both.

Cactus, stood looking at him, her sad smile hinted
to the heartbreaking news they have to face,
cactus, broke her silence, said she was happy
on being looked after by the hollering sun,
howling desert wind and sand storm cover her
with utmost affection,"They are my cousins,
they know me well all these years,
I let them decide for me what I need..."
they stood looking at each other, for a minute,
nothing more was to be told

"Have no misgivings, stranger, though my lover you are,
we live or die here together, but your destination is far
you are a rare one, readily gave your heart
to a mere desert cactus, that rarely flowers,
your perception, is the creation of your vibrant mind
I respect your passion and spirit of adventure,
we live the way we are made to live, why bear the pain of change,
I hope you know what I mean,
we live the way the most fitting for us, love is sacrifice too,
we both have hearts that beat together, I am blessed
but now, we have different choices, who can say who is right
the logic we espouse are different, though our hearts crave to be together*"