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Hear me, Lord of the Stars!
For thee I have worshipped ever
With stains and sorrows and scars,
With joyful, joyful endeavour.
Hear me, O lily-white goat!
O crisp as a thicket of thorns,
With a collar of gold for Thy throat,
A scarlet bow for Thy horns!

Here, in the dusty air,
I build Thee a shrine of yew.
All green is the garland I wear,
But I feed it with blood for dew!
After the orange bars
That ribbed the green west dying
Are dead, O Lord of the Stars,
I come to Thee, come to Thee crying.

The ambrosial moon that arose
With ******* slow heaving in splendour
Drops wine from her infinite snows.
Ineffably, utterly, tender.
O moon! ambrosial moon!
Arise on my desert of sorrow
That the Magical eyes of me swoon
With lust of rain to-morrow!

Ages and ages ago
I stood on the bank of a river
Holy and Holy and holy, I know,
For ever and ever and ever!
A priest in the mystical shrine
I muttered a redeless rune,
Till the waters were redder than wine
In the blush of the harlot moon.

I and my brother priests
Worshipped a wonderful woman
With a body lithe as a beast's
Subtly, horribly human.
Deep in the pit of her eyes
I saw the image of death,
And I drew the water of sighs
From the well of her lullaby breath.

She sitteth veiled for ever
Brooding over the waste.
She hath stirred or spoken never.
She is fiercely, manly chaste!
What madness made me awake
From the silence of utmost eld
The grey cold slime of the snake
That her poisonous body held?

By night I ravished a maid
From her father's camp to the cave.
I bared the beautiful blade;
I dipped her thrice i' the wave;
I slit her throat as a lamb's,
That the fount of blood leapt high
With my clamorous dithyrambs
Like a stain on the shield of the sky.

With blood and censer and song
I rent the mysterious veil:
My eyes gaze long and long
On the deep of that blissful bale.
My cold grey kisses awake
From the silence of utmost eld
The grey cold slime of the snake
That her beautiful body held.

But --- God! I was not content
With the blasphemous secret of years;
The veil is hardly rent
While the eyes rain stones for tears.
So I clung to the lips and laughed
As the storms of death abated,
The storms of the grevious graft
By the swing of her soul unsated.

Wherefore reborn as I am
By a stream profane and foul
In the reign of a Tortured Lamb,
In the realm of a sexless Owl,
I am set apart from the rest
By meed of the mystic rune
That reads in peril and pest
The ambrosial moon --- the moon!

For under the tawny star
That shines in the Bull above
I can rein the riotous car
Of galloping, galloping Love;
And straight to the steady ray
Of the Lion-heart Lord I career,
Pointing my flaming way
With the spasm of night for a spear!

O moon! O secret sweet!
Chalcedony clouds of caresses
About the flame of our feet,
The night of our terrible tresses!
Is it a wonder, then,
If the people are mad with blindness,
And nothing is stranger to men
Than silence, and wisdom, and kindness?

Nay! let him fashion an arrow
Whose heart is sober and stout!
Let him pierce his God to the marrow!
Let the soul of his God flow out!
Whether a snake or a sun
In his horoscope Heaven hath cast,
It is nothing; every one
Shall win to the moon at last.

The mage hath wrought by his art
A billion shapes in the sun.
Look through to the heart of his heart,
And the many are shapes of one!
An end to the art of the mage,
And the cold grey blank of the prison!
An end to the adamant age!
The ambrosial moon is arisen.

I have bought a lily-white goat
For the price of a crown of thorns,
A collar of gold for its throat,
A scarlet bow for its horns.
I have bought a lark in the lift
For the price of a **** of sherry:
With these, and God for a gift,
It needs no wine to be merry!

I have bought for a wafer of bread
A garden of poppies and clover;
For a water bitter and dead
A foam of fire flowing over.
From the Lamb and his prison fare
And the owl's blind stupor, arise
Be ye wise, and strong, and fair,
And the nectar afloat in your eyes!

Arise, O ambrosial moon
By the strong immemorial spell,
By the subtle veridical rune
That is mighty in heaven and hell!
Drip thy mystical dews
On the tongues of the tender fauns
In the shade of initiate yews
Remote from the desert dawns!

Satyrs and Fauns, I call.
Bring your beauty to man!
I am the mate for ye all'
I am the passionate Pan.
Come, O come to the dance
Leaping with wonderful whips,
Life on the stroke of a glance,
Death in the stroke of the lips!

I am hidden beyond,
Shed in a secret sinew
Smitten through by the fond
Folly of wisdom in you!
Come, while the moon (the moon!)
Sheds her ambrosial splendour,
Reels in the redeless rune
Ineffably, utterly, tender!
Hark! the appealing cry
Of deadly hurt in the hollow: ---
Hyacinth! Hyacinth! Ay!
Smitten to death by Apollo.
Swift, O maiden moon,
Send thy ray-dews after;
Turn the dolorous tune
To soft ambiguous laughter!

Mourn, O Maenads, mourn!
Surely your comfort is over:
All we laugh at you lorn.
Ours are the poppies and clover!
O that mouth and eyes,
Mischevious, male, alluring!
O that twitch of the thighs
Dorian past enduring!

Where is wisdom now?
Where the sage and his doubt?
Surely the sweat of the brow
Hath driven the demon out.
Surely the scented sleep
That crowns the equal war
Is wiser than only to weep ---
To weep for evermore!

Now, at the crown of the year,
The decadent days of October,
I come to thee, God, without fear;
Pious, chaste, and sober.
I solemnly sacrifice
This first-fruit flower of wine
For a vehicle of thy vice
As I am Thine to be mine.

For five in the year gone by
I pray Thee give to me one;
A love stronger than I,
A moon to swallow the sun!
May he be like a lily-white goat
Crisp as a thicket of thorns,
With a collar of gold for his throat,
A scarlet bow for his horns!
basic happiness Jul 2014
The park sits in the middle of a bustling city
The skyline visable all around.
There are large oak trees scattered about
And winding paths hug the ground.
A gentle breeze pushes the soft grass
Back and forth with effortless might.
The sunlight pushes its way past the leaves of trees
Creating dappled, swaying light.
This is the city park, where children come to play
Tag and other mischevious games.
Their laughter almost drowns out the hard sound
That of a bustling city rightfully claim.
GulRukh  Oct 2017
Silly Heart
GulRukh Oct 2017
Now I am wild wind
over your city,
wanna destroy everything that once with you was pretty,
erase every memory of you being mischevious and witty,
wanna give you pain,
wanna see you asking for piety
but there you are infront of me again,
I feels like a paitent recovers from pain
than I was  hard as ice
now I am melting slow and nice
in my mind echoed a voice,
"You can bear all the thunder
cause with him
once you were a breeze"
Whitney Sager  May 2015
Peter Pan
Whitney Sager May 2015
He is Peter Pan,
I realize with a chuckle;
Some boys never grow up:
he surely hasn't, probably never will
He thinks he is immortal and probably he is
He is a dream, a fleeting shadow
Always chasing a piece of himself
And a girl he can love
But he never finds what he needs
He's missing a mother;
no woman can care for him like a mother
and a lover
He's a mischevious charmer
He'll appear suddenly;
steal your heart, leave swiftly
Leaving his Wendy to search for traces, glimpses of him
For her whole life
Brycical Aug 2013
but that could be said of anywhere.
However, some places
seem to have hypnotic hips and easy eyes
with a mischevious, seductive scarab grin.
Like magic, it pulls me in.
Here, labels like good or bad are trite,  
there is only this magnetic whirling
energy culling myself and others inside
simply because we picked up the phone and showed up.

But now it's our responsibility to find balance
amidst serene listless apathy on the beach
and party hardy into the midnight arty energy scene jack & coke down the rabbit hole we go.

Some Bedouins say Dahab means "time  goes,"
which has me convinced Moses and his folks weren't lost
in terms of location but lost when it relates to time,
trying to find a middle path
between excess and sloth
in this south Sinai town.


Yes, not two but three schools of thought,
forming a triangle in this hypnotizing spiral;
two points of excess and one of balance!
All three balance each other,
and it's hell trying to stay in the center of this eye
of this metaphorical storm of enlightenment.
Naturally, gravitational forces pull some to the
gray matter island headspace of echoed sins
and carnivorous lascivious pandemonium.  
Not everyone will find what they seek on the warm beaches here,
or the raving, bubble foam dance parties in strobe light nights.
That's just the way it is;
there's not enough room for everyone in the center.

And this is where we learn to accept ones place,
because only then can we move on to another plane,
on another beach with more to learn and some to teach.
Megan Sherman May 2017
Once more the battles of life by stealth,
Creep upon you with blades, half hid under devil's sheath,
Deceiving soul and self of their immortal worth,
Shrinking my heart the breadth of its girth,
My friend fights, struggles to slay their ghost,
I've wondered how such a soul can be haunted,
And for days I've prayed and chanted,
Because of the fear their spirit is lost.

I have walked, traversed prayer's line for miles,
To save them from a fate that appals the mind and riles,
Searching fathoms of my sadness stricken soul,
To find ways to make again theirs whole,
Imagining their sheer delight,
In future years bereft of chains,
Bereft of sad and melancholy refrains,
I see them free, take flight.

May God grant light and love and peace,
May their mental struggle cease,
For being borne aloft on wings,
That inspire mind to soar and sing,
Considering Love a sufficient goal,
An immortal truth adorned by light,
That maketh for an awesome sight,
At peace with the one and all.

My friend being stricken found life devious,
Instead of coy and mischevious,
While that great Knight, that rose out of Heaven's fires,
Inspires feelings suffice to be sung to lyres,
Yet feels themselves beneath the beams
Of destiny, that touch the Earth,
Warms it the breadth of its girth,
And whose luck's light kisses our dreams.

My friend wails for their wilting fate,
And in my Heart a sorrow gestate,
I want my Heart to waltz with theirs,
Out of it's spiritual bars,
On the shores of Heaven we'd frolic play,
With them I'd be engorged on bliss,
Touched by the light of luck's kiss,
All throughout the day.

In my devotion I have learned this,
That to be not devoted is remiss,
To deny truth of Love is the worst,
Be banished from its kingdom who accursed,
Her splendour, to which we ought to be,
In mesmerised and spellbound awe,
To love, and cherish, and adore,
Her gifts and generosity.
Bardo Oct 2020
Sometimes you just gotta laugh the situations Life puts you in
Standing there stuck in the train, jammed in with all the others
'Cos the previous train had been cancelled
And now the crowd was too big to get a seat sitting down
I'm pushed up behind the back of this young girl's head
She has a pigtail or what was formerly a pigtail
It's been cut rather abruptly, truncated prematurely and then tied off
So that what's left of it now sticks out directly from the back of her head
And it's stuck right into my nose,
And of course, she's speaking to someone in front of her
And she's nodding her head up and down as if acknowledging
   her friend's words
And sometimes she shakes her head the other way
As if acknowledging her friend's negative feelings as well
So she's going Yes...yes....yes! up and down
And No...no...no! the other way
And my poor nose is being mercilessly swished up and down, back and forth, all over the place
It feels like a shoe being shined or a car in a car wash
And it's tickling me something terrible
And I'm there desperately wiggling my nose
Trying to avert an itch or a sneeze coming on
And secretly hoping no one is watching this
Because I think I'd look real foolish if they are,
And I'm also thinking to myself "I know I could do with a bit more human contact/ intimacy in my life
But this... this is ridiculous,
And then I start thinking of this Site and all the lovely tender intimate poems I've read
Those lovely hugs and kisses, sweet cuddles and caresses
Those warm embraces and even warmer entanglements
And I'm thinking " Well that's just typical isn't it, others get all those lovely things
While I get something... something weird like this.
But then y'know after the first feelings of awkwardness and discomfort have worn off I start thinking
"But it is rather funny though" and then "actually it's probably the highlight of my day"
Gradually I find myself warming to this little pigtail
She's blonde (another blonde) like some lovely Swedish thing
With my nose buried in her, I get her scent, her sweet perfume
I breathe her in deeply
Then I find myself getting a little aroused
And I find myself almost talking to her, giving her a personality
"You mischevious little Pixie, you flirtatious little Trixie
You like to see me suffer don't you, the way you hit me back and forth
Baby you're so vile, but hey! I like your smile
Come on! Hit me again harder!
I'll never submit to you, you'll never rule me"
I could almost see her, some cold ice Lady wrapped in furs brandishing her whip
But then suddenly it's like I hear this...this little reply coming back at me
I think I'm starting to hallucinate
It says "Feel my scent, it's heaven sent. Here let me warm you up a little"
As again I feel the whoosh of her whip
"You *****! you *****!! I say defiant
"Hey there Serious Boy" she says, "afraid to be seen talking with me.
O! what'll they think, what'll they say Oooo Whooo!
Who cares, who gives a **** what they  think
It's just me and you here now, just the two of us
What about it Serious Boy, what do you say
Won't you come out and play, come out and dance with me
O! you're so buttoned up
Come out and laugh and be silly with me
O! drench me in lovely laughter and wonderful silliness
Big man in Poet land
Wanna hear some of my poetry
" The secret of the sun
   It's written on my ***
   Wanna see my secret ***'?"
"That's bad poetry" I say
Ignoring me she continues
"Through my eyes the door to adventure lies
Hey Boy! Let it swing, don't hold it in
Just let it dangle, dangle like an obtuse triangle"
I had to smile, "I like it Baby, your poetry, it really... really speaks to me"
And then she looks deep into my eyes
"I bet your magic wand, it's like James Bond"
She has me smiling and laughing to myself, she's so...so too much
And I'm totally lost in this, our magical converse
But then suddenly...suddenly the world, it interrupts, our train it stops,
Some people get off, then she reaches down to get her bag
She starts to leave, to move toward the door
"But you can't go, we were just getting acquainted, we were just getting to know one another"
And it's like she gives me this one last wistful smile
And then she's gone, heading off down the platform
I was gonna go after her, follow her out onto the street
But I knew her owner, she'd probably soon start to twig
She'd turn and accost me "You're following me, aren't you, why are you following me ?"
And I'd say "I'm not following you, I...I'm following Her behind you. Back, back in the train we...we"
Then she'd start to scream "Stalker! ******!" and then I'd be grabbed, set upon
The police would be called and I'd be hauled off, dragged before some Court
Some Judge, he'd be looking down at me sternly, "What do you have to say for yourself ?  How do you plead ?"
And all I'd be able to say would be "Lack of fun, your Honour, lack of silliness, lack of... warmth in my life
My seriousness and indecision, their slowly killing me, like a tight gripping ivy
Their strangling all the joy out of my life
How do I plead ? Loneliness, I guess, loneliness in the first degree".

And y'know I still look for her in crowds and in trains, my little blonde Miss Pigtail, I'd know her anywhere.
And I still remember that day we had together and all the fun we had on the train.
More nose trouble. This actually happened one day in the train and inspired this. A Pre-Covid poem when you could have a crowded train, back in the good old days. This is reminiscent of the classic old British movie "Brief Encounter" LoL. A Love story with a difference.
Robyn  Jan 2013
Bed
Robyn Jan 2013
Bed
She linked her arms behind her back and tiptoed down the hallway. Her family was all asleep.
Her mouth was drawn up at the corners and her eyes twinkled, even in the dark.

What could she be up to? thought no one.

She turned the corner into the kitchen. Her hair swinging around her shoulders.
A hum escaped her lips, the melody unidentifiable.
With a long arm she reached up and opened a cupboard, her other arm following suit to retrieve a glass.
Hopping quickly over to the sink, the long arms came into play again, switching the faucet on and filling her cup.

Thirsty, at this time of night? asked no one.

Her smile grew wider. She straightened out, having been bent over the sink.
Those long arms grew stiff.
She spoke,

"What are you doing in my house?" Her voice was deep and clear, like a river.

There was silence throughout the house.

She turned quickly, the water in her glass sloshing over onto her fingers.

There was no one there.
Her face became sad, the mischevious glint lost.

What are you doing in my house? wondered no one.

"Nothing." She said.
And went back to bed.
A short story.
Atlas Rover May 2014
In a room sheltered by the passing of the seasons,
Trapped within the tempest of my consciousness,
A forbidden unravels between the two of us,
Like a wistful fragrance, losing itself in the winds.

You asked me to draw my reserved strength,
You sparked my dead empathy.
You spoke to my heart and asked it never to bleed and cry.
And then you left me by myself, alone in the face of my worst enemy, myself.

Today, as I sit under a naked full moon,
As its moonbeams pierce my solitary heart,
With the breeze running over my wounds,
My heart yearns to know where you are.

In order to fend those I loved,
I corrupted myself to become the one thing I hated,
The prey became the predator, lifted his sword,
Yet who can I embrace with my sword raised?

With your sweet words,
With the promise of your mischevious smile,
You lowered my arms.
You brought me back, but you left me alone.

I rest my psyche against the darkness that threatens to overcome my soul,
The fires you lit are long gone.
Sometimes, I think you were a cruel joke,
A jape by fate, to harden my glass heart.

Now, my raised sword serves no good,
A man wielding a sword, yet yielding his will to live,
Protects no one, he only kills.
All I want now is to rest in the embrace of cold death.

I do not know what I want anymore,
Perhaps you left me soul dead.
Nevertheless, i wish to forget,
I wish for your traces on my soul to be erased.
In light of sorrow, the moments of joy you left,
Pierce me harsher than barbed arrows.

Tell me.
How do I erase you from my soul?
-  Oct 2013
Maybe They'd Like Me
- Oct 2013
exchange my flaws
for a goddess'
characteristics
personality
mischevious
spontaneous
opti­mistic

exchange my heart
for one made of gold
maybe I would be
treasured then
by the ones
I need in
my life
© Natali Veronica 2013.
not a great poem but posting it anyway.
Ryan Holden  Apr 2017
Jasper
Ryan Holden Apr 2017
Jasper my best canine friend,
I have a message to send,
Ears so big, fluffy and free,
Always put a smile on me,
Oval sandy rock eyes stare,
Fur as dark as a black bear,
Coat so shiny lions mane,
Spirit animal large chain,
Mischevious wagging tail,
Someone outside bark and wail,
Muddy prints from paws alike,
Not an aspect I dislike.
Poem about my big fluffy dog I love
Sidara Jul 2019
Hearts, pound
Hands touch
Lips approach
To make a sound

Our tongs and our lips
Produce a warm melody
That make our cheeks
Dance to our heartbeats

A playfull, tasty kiss
Is Adored by some
But it is its sound
That I truely miss

A perfect scene
Pictured in my mind
Of two lovable beings
Wanting to be just one

Neighter of us is in it
Is merely a fantasy
A mischevious dream
I wish i could end it

— The End —