_

when donned the mask
the transformation
smoulders forth the other

the fantasy of your desire
carnal fire
on wings of dreams

she is she
and too another

unleashed at light of ardor's moon
her masquerade does lust ignite

manifest at your request
sustained this night
at her delight

she is isis
she is venus
a goddess true
in every measure

she is your every longing loosed
to bring you every pleasure

she is everything
and much more than this
bestowed with every molten kiss

as you burn
remember this
beneath the mask
your real bliss

_


rob kistner © 2010
(revised © 2018)
My beautiful wife and I had just watched Stanley Kubrick's "Eyes Wide Open" and it sparked this lustful fantasy.
This write was further fueled by my long-standing personal penchant for occasionally making love wearing captivating eye masks, for a playful kink.
I was lying in bed watching the morning news
when the weather babe came on.

I was hypnotized.

the way that she moved back and forth:
from the right side of the screen,
to the left, and to the right again.
and the way that she moved her lips
when she talked.

and her voice.
ohh. . . her voice: so sweet, so sexy,
so innocent, so pure.

and when she looked at the camera,
it was as though we locked eyes.

I could date a weather babe.
she would have the ability to look into the future.
she could predict my sunny days, my gloomy days,
and my rainy days.
and I would love her even when she is wrong.

if it didn’t work out with the weather babe,
I could date the traffic babe.
she would be there for me
whenever I’m in a jam.
I have this fantasy
of
us
sitting on the
couch
drinking
smoking
talking

then at dusk
we
sit outside
and
we
drink and
smoke and
talk
some more

you
telling
me
what’s on
your
mind
and
me
telling
you
what’s on
my
mind

not that
I
ever really
have much on
my
mind
or
at least
anything
worth
talking about

you
do most
of the
talking
and
I
just
listen
to
your
voice:
the most
beautiful
voice
given to
the most
beautiful
woman
ever
created

then after
we
finish
our
drink and
our
smoke
we
make
love
and
we
lie naked
feeling each other’s
heartbeat
and
hearing each other’s
breathing

and
in the morning
I look at
you
as
you
sleep and
I
admire
you
and
appreciate
you

and after a
good morning kiss
we
get up and
do it all
again
Rafał 18h
How low can we go down the rabbit hole?
I’ll take you to a place where the time never flows
The stars always glow, the sky is always blue
The grass is always green, and it’s all for you
But there’s a certain madness to this fantasy
So follow me as I measure every step carefully
You see this perfect planet is a theatre play
Either way, all we are is a bunch of NPCs

There’s a melody coming from the other side
As we stroll along the beach, by the ocean tide
And I show you smiles hidden in the crimson skies
Every perfect tale doesn’t show you the demise
But I made this world for you, you don’t have to deal with it
When you feel down, you can come and sink in it
Like a blanket on a winter evening, protect your heat
When the inside of your head gets too bleak
And when all you desire is a bit of sleep
So let your legs run, turn your head to stand by
And we’ll play the spectacle until you get by.
AS 1d
She woke up in her dreams,

A home,

Familiarity in the lands in which she

stands.

No longer surrounded by mankind,

Surrounded by the unknown.

A different world to behold,

One in which could be moulded.

No longer carried on each shoulder,

A balance struck.

Unbelieving in her luck,

No longer a pebble in humanity.

In a place of her own,

With only land before.

Behind a gate,

Radiating at a shimmering rate.

The shimmers a rainbow glaze,

Seeping energy of the world she'd

known.

Surrounded by castle stone,

Wrapped in green and golden ivy.

A door in which only she could

activate,

A gift she only owned.

In this moment she wasn't alone,

As from behind a cloaked figure

subsided.

Now in wake,

Walked over placing his hand for a

shake.

"At last you've arrived,

you took your sweet time" said the

man with Eagle eyes.

A Knight lost in time.

"I can't believe it's been ten years,

since we last spoke,

Oh how you've grown", as he bowed.

Her eyes widen,

Her mouth drops,

It is like her speech has stopped.

Memories subsiding from the electric

shocks,

To a world only she can unlock.


© 2018

Abigail Sheard
A glimmer, an idea which has laid within me for a least 11 years. One day I'll earn the discipline to write this book.

Writing here there, when my inspiration does not ware.

A story close to my heart!
Above the dragons and
Below the kraken lies
A much deeper sapphire
Than the deep blue abyss,
Hiding more jewels than
The humble clam can confess.

Wildfire and wyrm squander
Aimlessly for this kingdom,
Night, day, flame and fire,
But ashes form ambitious graves
And kings killed from neck to nave
In search of this treasure.

History has been a true heretic
To the truth of the matter,
For no such bounty is bought,
Naught a man to be sought,
As she is glorious beauty, grace
And will bash you with a mace.
Oh, Gwendoline.
in another life
i wear clay beneath my fingernails
and linen pants around my hips
fastened with a braided leather belt
rescued from my mother’s closet
one she wore in the eighties
when she met my father on the seaside of france
i carry flowers from the corner
down a gum-stained sidewalk
past the park i fell asleep in during one
slow sunday afternoon
there are cherry red stains on my pillow
some from my lips, some not
i’ve never been in love
but i’ve never felt alone
my nose is slender
and my collarbones flaunt themselves
beneath tanned skin
i am someone who drinks vodka and
orange juice while watering my plants
a longhaired cat licks its paws
in the windowsill
as i lie naked in the sunlight
reading tolstoy and kerouac
and obscure poetry introduced
by the neighbor in 4F
none of it matters
i am just like a cloud
like a creaking step
i share myself only through
spearmint breath and coffee dates
here are my sweaty palms
here are my uneven bangs
you will never know me
i wrote out a daydream
Darkly 3d
The faces in the water, they sleep  

  for eternity, their tears

    frozen

                in
                    the



                 ­          deep.

The Frozen Lake of Souls
A palace built with brittle bones;
so easily fractured. Yet in time
souls will walk upon the ash
under Pluto's careful watch.
Death will rise from its slumber
and surrender to the will
of the living no more.

No—

A vault of riven dreams will open
and from within
the cry of corpses
will be heard.
born from a love of fantasy, i thought about what would happen if a necromancer could no longer control the dead he has summoned.
On an old windowsill of a crooked windowpane in a beaten house
Lies a window-moth on a dirty window cloth.
drained, defeated, and done
Time and again,
It tattered its wings and shattered its face,
plunged at the glass, losing its grace.
She's drawn to a dim light
spilled through a cracked window
into the darkness of the room.
Like a waking terror of the night,
With one half there and the other out of sight.
Hallucinating a pathway through fantasy
  Seeking clarity in rays of insanity
Contained by a glass and wooden frame.
painfully numb,
with an urge to move forward
A consuming obsession,
to make it to the Moon.
That lambent orb in the skies
A brilliant ball full of lies
Ignorant to the impenetrable mass,
or the number of miles between the moon and glass.
No matter how much it desires,
No matter how much it tires,
No matter how large the power of will,
The glass is unbreakable,
the goal unattainable,
The truth unbearable.
The Godforsaken feeling,
of seeing, and believing,
yet never achieving.
inspired by night terrors, where one is conscious in sleep and can do almost nothing to get away. Reminds me of a moth chasing a light, unaware of the glass window keeping it there
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