The cliffs that point up:
are faded grey dissembled
finger hung by the thorns
Rats scurry gnaw at the flesh
the poisonous injection
of snakes seeping
danger lurking
in each crevice.  

Shadows leaping forward:
circling gown of fire:
swords made of ice
impaling the heart
the air whispers:
the shadowy feet
are never far apart
of horses that scurry
through the night.

You were an hot swirling vortex
raining down fire sprouting
out the sky the floating sunset
shining light across the murky
water. You lit up gardens
with red splodges of paint.
Summer rises up the streets:
warming up the air,
flowers are sprouting:
birds sing
flutes are playing
the seeds are about to sow

Can never pinpoint what's
making me down:
feel I want to deep down explode:
Some thing holds me back
she slaps me in the face,
snapping incoherent mutterings
to my face.
I feel this frightened baby,
when I see this cynical old lady.    

My mind moves quickly
to avoid her glazed stare.
She's always looking back
at the disappointment
than moving forward.  
She can never rest.

I wish I could really just smile
again.
Would it just be another  lie?


Just another way
to build up
unstable barriers.
I want the pain
to cease.  

Wearing another mask
to conceal what
I deep down feel.

Bottling up
the pain,
just to appear
happy and sane.

Forgetting the horrible flashbacks,
when you watched
first hand the bad things
that people have done to you:
looking in another direction
pretending it never happened.
when they were the ones that
made you feel that way.
The smashing up, fighting,    
sexist culture of pigs
who manipulate weaker minds
with constant flashbacks of  abuse,  
torture, black mail and mind games
sugarcoated with even more lies.

Sometimes wish my mind
would turn off and forget
and start a fresh
but it won’t do that.
its something in me which
keeps replaying over and over
very nasty scenes in the past
and making it worst
until your mind can’t take and
won't give no more good
to anyone else.
It turns you out and there is
just nothing left
and it ends with you
seeing more of death.

The dark clouds
fade  through
the crystal stream.

Air floating up
into flames.

A bird rises
above the ashes
glides through the
trees:

smoking up the heavens.

Every direction I can
see white lights, red eyes
and and set of teeth
grinding into my flesh,

An old woman
appears with a note and a
bunch of flowers
reading the words
"for dead must fall"

I can remember that first encounter. He was a man in his early thirties, bright eyes but with a dark grin and was smoking your cigars wearing a black hat and he was also carrying a guitar. He was here to show me how to strum an few chords.

I remember him distinctively saying...

"Guitar playing I am about to teach you is really the same as love making you know?"

I  laughed and blankly said
"but how so?"

" Well... (grinning)
Each string has to be carefully plucked, and contains a different  sensation and vibe if you mishandle the strings that final note will sound awful.

He was showing me how to re-tune and play a few chords which were C, D and G then pass me over the guitar back to me.
"Its your turn dear, and be really gentle"

While doing this and playing the first few chords of the guitar which was D I could feel him rub my shoulders and chest gently.
"Don't worry you can trust me, I was just loosening you up we can't have you feeling tense"
"Now, show me a G"

I begin to play the chord G while doing that he then grasped firmly on my other hand : I can feel a surge of heat from his hands firing up my fingers. This heat was making its way to my chest. He now caressed and circled around the chest and then higher up to my *****. I can feel his breath and his tongue swirling and stretching out to **** on my *******.

"Okay ... final note play me a C"

I crouch down to the floor and begin to strum that final chord and can then feel him stretch his hands beneath my skirt I could feel the sensations further of his fingers strumming my ***** in the same rhythmic motions of his guitar previously.

"See what I said? music playing really is the same as love making"
"I nodded and said yeah I suppose"

A bit shaken and uncertain how to respond but he kept whispering into my ear and repeating that same line: while kissing me on my cheeks, stroking me up and down in circular motions in which I could feel a tense feeling of release and then silence again

Was that the final note?

Lucy walked slowly from her bed to open the window and was about to go back to sleep
when all of a sudden she heard.

Rustle, Rustle, rustle, Crash.

She tried to run to her window but her legs were like glued matchsticks.

Lucy could see nothing outside.

Her eyes were still hypnotized though, to that single spot- transfixed – on the garden and the

sky smeared with grey ink.

She didn’t notice the tiny footsteps moving closer. They were fast and quiet until they reached the last step.

They were now clonking closer and heavier than before

and then they stopped.

Something made Lucy shiver- a breath of ice at her neck. The light slowly, flickered to reveal a pair of dark eyes and blood red lips.
Lucy screamed but it was too late and her scream was no more than a muffled echo in her hollow room.

Relationship that stern, thoughtful Sonnet:
passionate words are restrained.
Pass that beer and tonic
drown the scars of pain.

Does this forced enough?
covered in kisses, lost in time.
We lay in bed about to make love.
We are not at the same rhythm.
We couldn't keep up that rhyme.
Words of utter distortion,
treading further with careful feet:
lips kissing with caution.
Us both leaving slowly
in that black hole,
behind the last train.
Rules been broken.

This isn't a sonnet, just random
spontaneous incomplete words
spun together. GRR... Words
GRR... that twisted verse.

You are an inspiration, a Muse
Fed me ideas, fed me words.
Your not to be abused.
Your meanings are heard:
the free bird, the free poet.
I could never make you suffer
Trapped in kisses, hugs of Envy.

I wanted to admire you:
admire that beauty.
Your the art I discovered
never to touch.

I love your voice, twisting
words, metaphors of
politics... knocked up.

We read such beautiful
ballads exposing the
crooked past we share.
We wrote, we read and recite.
Drink to share that regret, that shame.
Watching protests of pent up anger
sharing the same humiliation
that same physical... pain

We search  for that one person,
the Muse to set us free.
Heal scars of
the scorned heart
escape the scolding fire.

You are the best friend,
the comrade, the big brother,
never my lover.