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 Dec 2012 Kimber Smith
Hani
Demons
 Dec 2012 Kimber Smith
Hani
The fire in her heart had grown weak
How was she to win the battles in her sleep
Now and forever she closed her eyes to escape
To find comfort in the deeps sombre embrace
That which she sought she never found
Demons and evils greeted her
Strange faces dark and twisted
They laughed and clawed and shrieked
Through dark halls and forests bleak
Scarier still the faces were familiar
A dream long lost, a memory drifted
One such night as any other
As she wandered a hall yet un-traveled
With a gasp she noticed what stood before her
It was one of the demons that dared to haunt her
Ragged, grimy and caked in mud
It took a step toward her with a heavy thud
In her hand appeared a gun
She shot the demon to the hell it had sprung from
The demon instead shattered and glittered
To reveal a gilded frame of earth and lead
She fell to her knees without a sound
And shoved the gun in her mouth
She must escape this prison
There was no redemption
The demons had tormented her
All too long
Eyes shut tight
She embraced the light
The shot rang out as she softly fell
Deep into the abyss where the demons dwell
She did not wake up
Nor did she return
For the demon inside her
Was her and not else
When ones soul speaks
It’s best you listen
For ones soul becomes tainted
When left unfelt
 Dec 2012 Kimber Smith
Ovid
But oh, I suppose she was ugly; she wasn't elegant;
I hadn't yearned for her often in my prayers.
Yet holding her I was limp, and nothing happened at all:
I just lay there, a disgraceful load for her bed.
I wanted it, she did too; and yet no pleasure came
from the part of my sluggish ***** that should bring joy.
The girl entwined her ivory arms around my neck
(her arms were whiter than the Sithonian snows) ,
and gave me greedy kisses, thrusting her fluttering tongue,
and laid her eager thigh against my thigh,
and whispering fond words, called me the lord of her heart
and everything else that lovers murmur in joy.
And yet, as if chill hemlock were smeared upon my body,
my numb limbs would not act out my desire.
I lay there like a log, a fraud, a worthless weight;
my body might as well have been a shadow.
What will my age be like, if old age ever comes,
when even my youth cannot fulfill its role?
Ah, I'm ashamed of my years. I'm young and a man: so what?
I was neither young nor a man in my girlfriend's eyes.
She rose like the sacred priestess who tends the undying flame,
or a sister who's chastely lain at a dear brother's side.
But not long ago blonde Chlide twice, fair Pitho three times,
and Libas three times I enjoyed without a pause.
Corinna, as I recall, required my services
nine times in one short night - and I obliged!
Has some Thessalian potion made my body limp,
injuring me with noxious spells and herbs?
Did some witch hex my name scratched on crimson wax
and stab right through the liver with slender pins?
By spells the grain is blighted and withers to worthless weeds;
by blighting spells the founts run out of water.
Enchantment strips the oaks of acorns, vines of grapes,
and makes fruit fall to earth from unstirred boughs.
Such magic arts could also sap my virile powers.
Perhaps they brought this weakness on my thighs,
and shame at what happened, too; shame made it all the worse:
that was the second reason for my collapse.
Yet what a girl I looked at and touched - but nothing more!
I clung to her as closely as her gown.
Her touch could make the Pylian sage feel young again,
and make Tithonus friskier than his years.
This girl fell to my lot, but no man fell to hers.
What will I ask for now in future prayers?
I believe the mighty gods must rue the gift they gave,
since I have treated it so shabbily.
Surely, I wanted entry: well, she let me in.
Kisses: I got them. To lie at her side: There I was.
What good was such great luck - to gain a powerless throne?
What did I have, except a miser's gold?
I was like the teller of secrets, thirsty at the stream,
looking at fruits forever beyond his grasp.
Whoever rose at dawn from the bed of a tender girl
in a state fit to approach the sacred gods?
I suppose she wasn't willing, she didn't waste her best
caresses on me, try everything to excite me!
That girl could have aroused tough oak and hardest steel
and lifeless boulders with her blandishments.
She surely was a girl to rouse all living men,
but then I was not alive, no longer a man.
What pleasure could a deaf man take in Phemius' song
or painted pictures bring poor Thamyras?
But what joys I envisioned in my private mind,
what ways did I position and portray!
And yet my body lay as if untimely dead,
a shameful sight, limper than yesterday's rose.
Now, look! When it's not needed, it's vigorous and strong;
now it asks for action and for battle.
Lie down, there - shame on you! - most wretched part of me.
These promises of yours took me before.
You trick your master, you made me be caught unarmed,
so that I suffered a great and sorry loss.
Yet this same part my girl did not disdain to take
in hand, fondling it with a gentle motion.
But when she saw no skill she had could make it rise
and that it lay without a sign of life,
'You're mocking me, ' she said. 'You're crazy! Who asked you
to lie down in my bed if you don't want to?
You've come here cursed with woolen threads by some Aeaean
witch, or worn out by some other love.'
And straightway she jumped up, clad in a flowing gown
(beautiful, as she rushed barefoot off) ,
and, lest her maids should know that she had not been touched,
began to wash, concealing the disgrace.
 Dec 2012 Kimber Smith
k
Chicago
 Dec 2012 Kimber Smith
k
I remember the promises we made
On the cold streets of Chicago at 2 am.
I can still see your breath,
When "I'll love you forever"
Couldn't have felt any better.
I remember throwing around a football
Acting like every day was the fourth of July,
Feeling like we were already a family.
I remember hours spent in ecstasy,
Grasping your hand in pleasure.
I remember laughing like I would never get enough,
Happiness becoming second nature.
I remember each day of those three years with you.

But is it possible to fall out of a love
So deep and suffocating?
Because I've been breaking those Chicago promises,
And pretending that I miss you.
I've been losing my mind,
And crashing towards insanity,
Thinking of the things I've done
To **** our forever love.
Sleep is my escape.
My sweet temporary,
lost in  the imaginary,
ignoring the contemporary,

escape.

A love that I hate.
Because of this disease,
the twisted reality tease,
lost in the seven seas,

help me I pray,
continuously.
never-ending.

This is what I see
shades of the sky
sweet vista I crave,
but it fades
as I wake
Reality infects imagination,
soon it dies.

This is no place for a dreamer.

Seek your allies.
Many fight your battle, my dear.
They are not all far away, they are near.
This is war.
Because you listened to the mirror.

*But how do I find them?
I realize that my compositions lack structure....I'd like to improve that, but perhaps it reflects the nature of me.
This is a familiar place.
Ah, twas the in the same dream when I first saw your face.
Lucid as it may have seemed to be,
Who ever would have thought you’d find way to me?

I held you close, I learned you well.
From that devilish smile to that wonderful smell.
You were mine to hold forever on.
Until suddenly, you were gone

And how I miss that heavenly bliss,
I had found in your sugary sweet angel’s lips
Now I may never forget the things you said to me
What once was a dream is now sadly a memory.
Night time steps in

And your presence stretches out

From my head to my bed.



As I spin the wheel for me

And for the world,

I pull together your fragments.

To rediscover, to refine pieces of you.



Morning snatches you away from me,

Dissipating your image to the sunlight.

Yet, it cannot dissolute the saccharine cravings

Or the savory memories from your embrace.

But I worry not, for I recognize

Even the microcosm of imprints left behind.



I can trace your hairline

Out in the arms, head or face

Of a passenger in the bus or train.

It was no wonder where to find you.

You were no stranger to my senses.



I can draw out your eyes

From stones of garnet or granite.

I can hear your heartbeat, your laughter from Irish violins

And Spanish guitars are your private echoes, your fondling whispers.



I can split the distinct outline of your smell

From cinnamon, vanilla and caramel;

Or figure the blueprint of your flavor

Out of morning dew or spring rain.



Tales of heroes from novels or poetry

Are narratives where I retrieve

How safe it felt to be with you.



I only ache for you in every fraction of my reverie,

The incessant reminder of my liquefied reality.

And in the evening you won’t get lost,

For I am all aglow, pointing you home.




Only in your hands

I can submit without dread

And you’re the sole being that knows

The second color of my eyes,

My fingers that memorize every hair trail

On your jaw line, chest and arms.



Your body is just attuned to my secret dance,

Breaking and making the iridescence of dreams.

Only you can read the symbols crowning my head

And kiss me like eternity is born from world’s death.



Earthbound spirits envy this romance of ours,

As Faes bless this furtive union.

So please don’t be far too long,

For even time and distance my dear

Are painful pleasures to my soul,

My addictive links to you.



I await your return tremendously, my lover.

Hold me still and play our song to sleep.

Don’t need to know if you’re my own design,

Or a pattern I recreated.

As long as we remember

What binds us together.

In the shadows of the day

And in the glimmer of the night.
First shared in my blog dreamweaversplane.tumblr.com
 Dec 2012 Kimber Smith
Tina
No cut, nor graze
Soreness or burn
No bite, nor bruise
just bitter concern

Tears 
Gasping
Breathless
And PAIN
Wondering
Hoping
Living in PAIN
Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.
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