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  Aug 2015 poetessa diabolica

In ode to all who succumb
through wayward passages
lined of scribble notes
dripping ink’s savagery,
staining cursive patterns
in Sylvia-like depressions

Jarred bells ring
down lost tunnels
around each dark corner…clang
from steeples we chase
and beds we lie
draped in sadness
and shapes of
poetic happenstance

Tear drop vinaigrette
spiced of leftover lifetimes
drizzled on leafy desperation
bids a tired farewell
before time collects
*the deserved rewards
Rose petals devoured

   of inky promises

blush off garden passages

  of amaranthine radiance,

written words decayed

  on  bruised vines

   of intertwining madness,

as poetry climbed the

    walls of befallen sunlight
Wildflower 'neath a
     giant weeping willow,
         comforted by the shade
  her fragrance wafting darkly
      whispered into the wind ~
   she'd been 'betrayed by the sun',
frail tendrils blistered
     of indiscretion below
            burning discrimination,
   fallen neath the cracks
        suffocating a delicate essence,
she could no longer bear the
   deep-rooted superficiality  
         of seeds buried within *****
                    little implanted secrets
She was gooey like maple syrup

     & marshmallow s'mores,

stronger than  a mountain lion

    protecting her cubs,

wore prescription rose-tinted

     sunglasses with GPS,

she'd been around long enough

   to see through most of the

         flimflam and negativity,

was agile enough to laugh at

      her own cheeky caricature,

wouldn't put up with the travesty

   'neath debauchery's cunning

still, she wondered as most do,

  what was to become of a world

so engrossed in the overthrow

    & disparaging mockery of others

she bade her time waiting to grow

    older and wiser in hopes

she'd be around long enough

      to experience a sunrise view

            in universal accordance

      before her own last sunset

                  ultimately bit the dust,  

         burning in all-inclusive ashes
Baggage within
      trappings of illusions,
love packed away
  in neat little compartments
gathering cobwebs at
     makeshift improvisations,
dusting intermittently
      if by chance a light
           should shine,
never wholly untangling
    the snare
mid a labyrinth of
      transparent entrapment,  
as violin strings continue
      to unlatch the same old key
  Aug 2015 poetessa diabolica

Miles of nothing,
beige on beige on beige
The sun is screaming,
blistering my skin,
draining me slowly
as breath is heated
and tastes bitter
Shoulders slung low
I can’t stand straight,
bent over struggling,
nothing is anywhere
and nowhere is here

Leaving footprints
for the wind dancers,
black feather fathers,
winged circlers
High above, watching
sifting time
in weakened increments,
hourglass patterns of
falling granules
sinking deeper

Water is a dream
and this dream, a nightmare
for it is there,
just ahead, I can see it glistening
but it does not exist
nothing exists,
as the oasis in my mind
dries up, leaving
empty indentations
on horizontal planes, flat lands
of arid emotions
drifting in and out
reaching for…
It sure is hot here today.
Still hunger for your skin,
  thirsting the lips that
   once melded into mine
one last blissful night together
  flowing of wine and passion,
never suspecting you were
   letting me down easy,
our hearts were in sync -
      or so I was led to believe
   veiled in ecstasy,
    a cruelty worse than death
      in the least, dying has a final chapter
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