Every time I blink
a new world forms
behind my eyelids
like a screen,
like a dream,
so that,
temporarily,
I can escape.

poison needn't come from a chalice,
it can come from words,
full of malice,
a strum of cords.

a reddening whip
on your back with a belt,
provoking hot tears
that could make copper melt.

A white fabric,
a curtain, perhaps?
I'm not sure.
It's covered with dust
that floats in the air
of the sunlit room
as I pull it off of my most
prized possesion.
Just the same as I remember;
ivory keys in perfect shape,
ebony keys in between.
A black glaze painted expertly
on fine sprucewood.
The keys are cold
against my fingertips
as they drift mindlessly,
creating song.

A youth adored by a goddess of love and beauty
He was confident, with stricking features.
His bravery, a virtue admired by many
led to his demise.
Was it the chaste huntress Artemis who ended him?
He was to spend the afterlife in the underworld
during the chilling season that frosted the Earth
And spend the summers with Aphrodite.
He was stricking, and melted the chill
of the underworld.

Covetous, you;
parsimonious, gold spent;
you now have ****** and wine, what else?

I'm out of breath
trying to chase you,
but now you've left
like you were supposed to.

I'll mourn in pain
and sob and grieve,
but maybe again
we may meet.

you smell like a witch's storage,
a pantry of spice;
rosemary, basil,
turmeric, corriander.
the smell,
it's spice.

A bridge of wood and rope
above a canyon filled with water
waits to be crossed.

A fathomless pit under you,
a glorious destination across.
Shall you cross,
or shall you stay?

A composition that turns to ash in the crackling hearth; but now the crow cackles, how could you?

What I pity
it would be
if suddenly,
I couldn't see.

I would be saddened
to lose my eyes,
but then again,
I wouldn't cry.

you're so dull,
so simple,
so
black and white.

that's how you see the world,
right?
black and white.

i,
however,
see the world
in colour.

i used to hold my head high
my stance filled with pride
but now my neck is aching
because I keep looking back.

On the battlefield
fighting the adversary
who was once part of his own pride.

In his heavy chainmail armour,
he was struck by a musket
which ended his misery.

However, his beloved
would mourn over his body
as tears fell freely onto his armour.

Over time, it rusted
with gold.

People far and wide came in search
of this, now famous armour
thinking of invincibiliy.

Legend says the man's beloved
buried it
in the exact place he died.

I lay in the sand as the ocean caresses my skin
as it crawls boldly to the shore.
I ask for a favour, but the sea is its own master.
It is hungry, insatiable. It desires blood.
The moon shines brilliantly upon the ocean,
illuminating the flowing string of blood
that choses to meander upon crystalline waves.
I stare at the moon as she takes my unborn child.
"Do protect her, please."

I used to gaze upon dandelions
as if the were flowers.
"They are only weeds, darling. We must rid of them."
But without them, I felt as though
our garden had too much space.
It wasn't cluttered with yellow,
it was bland.

I listen to the planes soaring through the clouds,
I watch a dragonfly kite pierce the air,
I hum a tune of delight.

What a lovely afternoon, wouldn't you say?

I listen to the birds chirping jauntily,
I watch you stare in amazement,
I smile with glee.

What a lovely afternoon, with you here to keep me company.

A huff and a puff,
tobacco smoke from a wooden pipe,
*** on the rocks in my left hand,
rather Victorian,
wouldn't you say?

What a pity
it would be
if suddenly,
my smell would flee.

It would be awful
no to smell the breeze
as it carried the scent
of the cherry tree.

They're so ungrateful,
so terrible,
what must I do
to avoid these swines?

What a pity
it would be
if suddenly,
I couldn't speak.

It would be awful
to lose my voice,
for I would no longer
have a choice.

The flaming, glorious mirth in your iris'
as you place your dirk to the throat of the adversary
as you contemplate whether you should send him to death,
or await submission.
In your sporran,
bullets destined to be loaded and shot from a musket
lie, a dead weight,
reluctantly used.
You let the adversary flee,
with warning,
for a proud warrior you may be,
but willing to accept a change of heart.

We may try to put water in a mold,
to shape it forever without letting it freeze.

Impossible.

It will drift quickly upon a river,
fall fast when shooting out of a faucet,
sail openly on cold metal
and sink when in contact with fabric.

Water has no form, yet it possesses one of the most
magnificent beauties of our world.

After a night that let
snow like chilled cotton
fall from the cloudy, yet sunlit sky,
the enthralling,
calming sounds of
twittering birds
and crunching snow,
that is my winter wonderland.

"I will give you a choice, heads or tails?

I wonder why, at my death row, I pick the side of a coin?

"Tails."

The coin flips with the flick of the executioner's thumb and it flies through the air, an inexplicable suspense.

"It has landed on heads. Instead of a flogging with the Cat o'nine Tails, you shall receive a beheading."

I sigh, but this was inevitable. With my wrists burning from rope, I lay my head into the guillotine.

You would like me to brood
while you remain aloof,
how is this fair, I ask?
What would you like me to do?

The old floor creaks
as the people dance drunken shimmies
while they laugh mindlessly;
it's a shame, really.

They come to forget,
to drown their sorrows in mead, beer or wine
and seek relief;
Alas,
they forget the pleasure
as they dance into the night,
indulge in a forbidden chaste kiss,
it all perished from one's memory,
but not their reality.

I practice magick, not theology, my apologies-
but I can assure that this cherub becomes a daemon at the pearly gates! Bring your silver spear, I am adorned with bronze!
I needn't worry, no deity awaits my presence, only Death; let us be reunited at last!

Do you hold not
the value
of fidelity,
my love?

Liar,
Liar,
heart on fire
hanging
from a noose
of wire.

When you awaken,
wipe the grime from your eyes
and squint to the sun,
start the day like you wanted to
yesterday.

Isn't it?
I mean,
there's not much we can do now,
but that's alright.
We will still
survive,
we'll remain
alive.

Nowadays,
to be different
is wanted.
But why?
Why now?
Why do you take the name
of the minorities
and claim
to be one of them?
To take their limelight
when you have fought their battles?
Why?

If you really think about it
a masquerade ball
is simply people in posh fabrics
hiding behind a bedazzled mask
because they cannot face humanity.

I collect the tears of the sky
in hope that it will suffice
so that I need not release
tears of my own.

I'm an amateur poet,
passing along messages of sorrow and wisdom
like a child passing notes in class.

'Swine, O swine!' you cry, but why?

Our doom is inevitable, let us repent?

No, we are late, onwards!

Firstly,
do not allow yourself
to be controlled.

Secondly,
indulge, but not too much.

Thirdly,
enjoy every moment
and learn from those moments.

Fourthly,
gratitude is important.
Use it.

And fifthly,
do not tolerate hatred,
rather,
diffuse it and be kind.

Prickling thorns on a white rose;
it has been stained by Adonis' blood-
care for nectar, Highness?
I offer you my condolences and my adoration,
wouldn't you accompany me?

When I have been struck by an arrow of silver, I lay, awaiting death.

"Mother will cry!"

May she grieve quickly.

"Father will cry!"

May he mourn peacefully.

"Brother will cry!"

May he live happily.

"Your lover will cry!"

May he become free.

The air,
it smelled odd.
Like whiskey and copper,
cigarettes and petrichor,
but where do these aromas
come from?