Shadows of bold letters
Anchored in hard covers
A writer's ship in a sea of thoughts
Blown at by the winds of muse
To tell a story, memory, an idea
The fantastical world of ink on paper,
Detailing sounds and imagery,
The dusty books of the attic

But strokes of coloured ink,
Life painted on sky canvases,
Beautiful sunrise, scary twilights
Amusing faces of admirers
So they hang in the halls of fame
That souls through time,
Shall forever remember

Rivers of sorrow
Valleys of shattered souls
Stolen childhoods,  
Self interests of the masters

Beastly hunger,
Rewarded narcissism
Luncheons of meat and wine,
Decaying flesh and blood

Tainted,  fine fabric,
Disgusting games of folly
Echoes of hypocritical laughter,
On neatly furnished wood

And hidden gold daggers,
Windowless stone houses
An assassination burglary,
Lone dark nights, long

And clothed in honor,
veiled in arrogance
Despicable faces,
Masked with expensive makeup

suffocating perfumes,
A rising air across the gold mines
The soulless humans
The slave masters of the century

The world through a glass of wine,
A ruby refraction of her curvy *****
Round like twin apples,
Luscious and so inviting
Man's undying hunger,
To **** once again on firm ****

Tender skin, soft,
An adventurous hand,  down her belly
Lightly mapping the navel
Before feeling the thread of silk around her waist,
On the hip side, raised slightly as my fingers run,
First slowly, and then quick, to the back of her knee

She moans briefly,
Abit surprised, or excited
the tingling feeling,  sending a million neurons,
To her mind, to the heart,
Racing, a rise in body temperature
As I breath, warmly on her stretched neck

She then whispers,
In a language of the two,
Her eyes rolling, lips wet,
"Sire, we are closing"
"You can't sleep here again,
Taking with her, my glass of imagination

Doesn't gold look so beautiful?
Or rather so shiny?
Oh yes! It does,  in many eyes

But yet, to some,
Its simplify a collection of atoms,
Reflecting yellow light from the sun

And yet again,  to others,
Its worth a look, a thought may be,
Because, ITS GOLD!

My darling I say,
Any great person is worth more than the looks
Its the unseen value that makes a good wife

Blinding light, deafening echoes,
Suffocating breath, a burning taste,
And a freezing breeze,
Into the unknown, swirling, infinite thoughts

Deluded, by love, and beauty,
Malicious smiles, tender words
Stabbed, hypocrite, arrogant,
Her fine robe, high soles

Luscious lips, her kiss of death,
Warm, and cold, dying
*******, his life force, an ending breath
A heart stolen, and now, freezing,

Buried, in hate, and yet,
Undead, looped in the past,
Faint ink, on a lover’s canvas,
Psyched, trapped, within, the wooden frames

A master's whistle commands,
On a hunt, to the hounds,

To chase and not fail,
The deer's blood scented trail

Scraped by a swift arrow,
Flying through the nest of a true sparrow

Tearing apart,
The hatchling, from it's young spirit

The broken soul of its mother,
And bloodstain, on her quill feather

Drops of tender rain,
Open pores of my frozen skin,
My soul, free, within