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It sits, poisonous
Dripping sorrow over the windowsill
I drove to the Skyway,
Dropped a heart over the edge.
Watched it splash under
It took a couple seconds to hit.

This apartment, I can't find any matches.
Beethoven's wife,
It's legend that she would play a scale,
All except the last note- and Beethoven-
awake asleep in between dreams
not waking to her kisses would
get up to finish it.
She probably knew everything about him.
I bet she wept when he went deaf.
I like to think he wrote her a sonata, or two.

It's raining outside.
Right behind the poison on my windowsill.
A candle would make this place better

Where are the matches?
Beethoven's wife would never have betrayed him.
Do re mi fa so la ti-
Nobody understands;
no one really gets it.
"Oh, but,
I really understand."
A little scripted line, they say,
to keep all the sympathy away.

No one comprehends it;
you don't understand the smothered feeling.

I loathe what my fingers touch,
I hold my heart in contempt.
I realize these things spread like vines,
from my finger tips, to my arms,
and sinks in my eyes.

Its only slowly consuming,
the color I hold to my skin.
A little pretty poison that
taints my whole, from within.

I've seen an empty river,
and I've seen a draining sea.
I could doodle each little feeling,
to help you understand,
but such liars don't get it,
they push my deeper in the sand.

"Oh, just forget it.
Don't be like that."
Such people don't understand.
That's whats mad.
That people can lie,
and fool you like thieves.
But I could never lie, like that,
I am not like you.

Please, don't try to get me.
Don't try to understand.
I lost the reigns I thought I had,
and lost my thoughts in memories.
I've been thinking in past tense,
and I don't think I'm walking forward.

I don't embrace the change with acceptance,
and I don't welcome it with uncertainty.
The ivy on my fingertips is a sure fire sign that
I am wilting by the hour.

I think leeches might have eaten,
what I thought was my heart,
and the mayflies might have collected,
what I thought was my mind.

As I lay and desinigrate,
I become meshed into the wood around me.
I lost the reigns I had, like,
I am not meant for the reality I claimed.

The soft chill of the air at night,
and the spiders on my spine: my fright.
The air seems brisk yet it doesn't touch me,
but I can tell from the way it floats above me.

The reigns, they still left me,
alone in the dark.
Because I couldn't find them,
I couldn't re-spark.

So I am lost like a legend,
a small useless clock.
I am without reason,
my will has been stopped.
I wish I was beautiful,
with  diamonds in my eyes,
and flowers in my hair.

I wish I was sweet,
like the scent of subtle lavender,
and cherries on my lips.

I wish I was delicate,
like watercolor stained glass,
and you, holding me like I might
flutter away any second.

I wish I was lovely,
with my heart on my sleeve,
and adoration on my face.

I wish I was graspable,
like something soft to get you by,
yet something hard enough
so you'd never say goodbye.

I wish I was beautiful,
with light pink fingertips,
and a smile on my face.

I wish I could identify,
with all the words you call me.
But I am not as pretty or,
as fragile, or as lovely,
as you say I can be.
 Jul 2013 Katie Lowe
Ugo
Origin
 Jul 2013 Katie Lowe
Ugo
When a sight of dying babies
Becomes peace, a haven of tranquility,
When you only listen to the priest
No longer for the truth, but for lies

When a mother’s duty becomes to ****
No longer to give life,
When children no longer grow old
But the old grow to children

When life is not seen as learning
Rather His punishment for the unrighteous,
When graves are harvested as birth
And being born becomes the new death

When killers are praised as heroes
For sending men to rest, to peace,
When those who save lives
Become the greatest fugitives and enemies

When your unconscious becomes reality
And reality becomes that which is hidden;
Then you’ve arrived at the land of the gods
For the opposite of this Earth exists.

For every one thing is
In respects to its Antithesis.
http://www.amazon.com/OLAF-Nothing-Above-Fiction-ebook/dp/B009XZ9OVY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid;=1353822133&sr;=8-1&keywords;=olaf+last+king+of+nothing
 Jul 2013 Katie Lowe
echo
Silhoette
 Jul 2013 Katie Lowe
echo
Night- paces and restlessly stations
leaf'd sentries in the silhouette sky;

Black* - cossetting, scissored, jagged
tatoo'd trees lend watchful eyes;

Branches - whisper aches and pains
with sweeping hands of hurried lies;

Trust - exhumes her two-cent breath -
*"You promised not to compromise.."
Tonight the trees were
black
lace
curtains
that silhouetted the sky
the breeze
shuddered
and
whispered
to me:
"Take care of your promise ...my child"
Where Have All The Yesterdays Gone?
Do They Mingle Among Beds Of Flowers,
Or Do They Hide In The Saltiest Of Seas?
Do They Soar Upon A Raven's Wing,
Or Dance With The Honey Bees?
Do They Trudge Along A Rugged Trail,
Or Are They A Whisper In The Breeze?
I Intend On Finding Them,
For They Hold You And Me.
Gretchen wept in her easy chair
And called for her husband, Karl,
They’d been together for sixty years,
Though both were worn and frail.
They’d met in the ruins of München, when
The ***** collapsed and fell,
Escaped to live in Australia
From their own idea of hell.

For Karl had served in the Wehrmacht,
In a Tank Corps at Dieppe,
Had served in the Panzergruppe von Kleist
Had roamed the Russian steppes,
His tank had taken him through Ukraine
They’d taken the plains by force,
But found their pain when the Russians came,
In their huge T-34’s.

But that was the world of way back when,
For Karl was old and grey,
He slept a lot in his tidy home,
The nurse came every day,
His wife developed dementia, she’d
Forget where she used to roam,
So she was parted from husband Karl,
Was sent to a Nursing Home!

He walked with the aid of a walking frame,
He couldn’t quite get around,
But listened for echoes of Gretchen’s voice
In the house that made no sound,
And all he thought was to rescue her,
To bring his girl back home,
But the powers that be said: ‘Wait and see!’
She was lost to him - Alone!

He went to visit her, once a week,
They held each other's hand,
She cried so much when he had to leave,
She never could understand,
And he was desolate every time,
He’d cling to her so tight,
That they had to prise his hand away
When they sent him away at night.

The nurses were harsh and businesslike,
To them it was just a job,
With no compassion for patients, they
Would leave all that to God.
Demented souls ran over his feet
With trolleys and walking frames,
When Karl grew angry, they shrugged and said:
‘Well - Everyone complains!’

One Sunday, standing outside the doors,
He saw his Tiger Tank,
It growled, and pulled up beside him there
And the diesel fumes, they stank.
He climbed aboard with his comrades there,
And ‘Schnell!’ they called, to a man,
Then lumbered straight through the double doors,
The nurses turned and ran!

The Tiger reared and it turned about
Tore carpet up from the floor,
The tracks ran over the matron’s feet,
Let out a fearful roar,
The patients cheered as the Iron Cross
Raced past their common room,
And smashed the glass in the office door,
And crushed the sister’s urn!

Then Gretchen laughed as he came in sight,
‘Here comes my husband, Karl!
He'll break us out of this prison ward,
Can you hear his Tiger snarl?’
He stopped and reached for his Gretchen then
Looked deep in her eyes, and swore:
‘I’ll not be parted from you again
Though hell should bar the door!’

They found them lying together there,
He held her safe in his arms,
They'd gone together where lovers go
Away from the world's alarms.
‘He went quite crazy,’ the Matron said,
‘He must have been insane!’
For lying outside her shattered door
Was his twisted walking frame!

David Lewis Paget
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