Out of a **** he made Great Art
It was no ordinary **** no!
It was straight from the heart, that
   ****
It had lain too long in the dark
Now was it's time to start
To make its bid for freedom... and for stardom.

It flew like a dart that **** from the
   heart
Like an arrow strung from Cupids
   bow
Little did it know how luminous it'd
   glow
Becoming one of the Greats in the
   Farting Canon.

It was probably the greatest **** poem
   ever written
In my own humble opinion
It was very daring and it smelt of
   onion
It was certainly the fairest fartiest
   poem I ever seen
If it was one of the three Musketeers
It would have to have been
   D'artagoine.

It inflated like a balloon, blew up like
   a great glass bubble
Then it popped and headed off
   toward England
Flying further afield than any ****
   had ever flown
It touched people's hearts, bewitched
   every nation
Resounded around the world
Yea! was heard in every Kingdom.

It flew long, it rounded the Horn
Like a Lark, that ****, it soared and
   sung
It was no boring old ****
It was far fartier and fruiter than that
It was a King of Farts
Way above the fartiest of farters and
   all the farting Arthurs
It was the real King Arthur
The King Arthur of all farts and
   Farters.

A real Belter was that **** that came
   from the heart
That had all the Angels singing in
   their cloisters,
A real work of Art just like Mozart
Or remember... remember your
   Shakespeare
"Hark! A ****, a ****! Whereforth art ?
    Thou ****"
It played its part, that ****, yea! it
   wielded its Excalibur.

O! there's nothing I'd rather do than lie here blowing sweet bubbles next
   to you
You! on your little flutey flute flute and
   Me! on my big Bass Trombone.

Essence of the dragon's breath
into the harbor creeps.
Gray, silent, with the chill of death
blankets the meadow while sunbeams sleep.

Wandering, lost within its drifting folds,
isolated from the world.
Cries of fears untold,
echo through its depths unfurl.

Distorted visions of illusions cast
tremor through the air.
Soulless victims on retributions task
beckon to their hidden snare.

Close your eyes, feel its cold fingers caress,
howls of anguish, to late,
your body shudders in distress,
bemoaning your impending fate.

ALesiach © 02/26/2015

She cleared her throat and told me,
What she thought you must now know.
Her voice was silenced, but her mind was still running,
And she's fearful that it may soon blow.

She chased down every government body,
She travelled the world and witnessed pain.
She caused a ruckus in a crowded place,
And then got thrown outside in the rain.

She asked me "who do we talk to, if not our superiors?
Who can help us, if not them?"
She found the answers, now she wants you to hear.
She said "here goes nothing, ahem.."

"No one can help us. No ones out there,
We're simply just stuck inside.
We can stand up and speak out, if you want to,
Or we can just keep silent and hide."

"This does not change with time," she continued,
"We must face our fears at some stage."
She hid away for so long now,
She has just filled herself up with rage.

She said she spoke to you for a long time,
And, instead of helping, you just sat still and observed.
She appreciated the attention you gave her,
But she thinks that's a little less than she deserved.

She needed your help, and you know that,
And now her rage is directed toward you.
She can't pretend she's not disappointed,
Because you were the one person she's ever known to be true.

Your heart was warm and loving,
Your exterior conveyed it well.
You're probably still the same person you were then,
But, for some reason, she can no longer tell.

And when the skies displayed it's colours,
And the air held so many voices,
She looked at her surroundings,
And she was fooled, just as others are, to think she had many choices.

She had none, she was trying to tell you!
She had no idea how to fix the world.
She tried her best and she wants you to know that,
But she's just one little girl.

For that reason, she completely gave up on hope,
And, all around her, the whole world turned grey.
From the outside, it was easier to see though,
The world looked different on display.

She said the world is crumbling all around us,
And she doesn't understand why no one gives a ****.
She has wondered ever since she found the answer,
If you've known all along, and that's how you're so calm?

She sees the world in a completely new light now.
No blend of colours stretch across her skies.
The air is silent, the voices have left her.
But she suddenly remembers the colour of your eyes.

She recalls the hazel she once got lost in,
And all of those days in the Autumn air.
She doesn't know how she lost contact of them,
But she constantly wishes she could go back there.

And she has been frantic when she talks about
The reason she left you behind,
She was a dreamer, who was foolish
To think there was so many better things out there to find.

Because all she found were contradictions.
The world is just a massive kingdom of pain.
It broke her heart when she tried to fix it,
And now she's left with heartache she cannot contain.

The answer was sorer than the lies we are taught.
The grey and the silence have left her cold.
She sees no point in going ahead now.
I'm just telling you what I was told.

You gave her strength when she was weak.
You gave her reasons to dream.
You made her innately happy.
You fixed her fabrics when they tore at the seam.

You taught her love in a damaged world.
You picked her up when she fell down.
You are the person who made her who she is.
Now all that's missing is her crown.

She has sat you on the top of the world.
She looks up to you on your height.
You were the reason she got out of bed in the morning,
And the last thing she thought about at night.

The beautiful butterflies that once danced inside her belly,
Have become moths, eating away at the fabrics of her soul.
She wanted so much to hold on to you forever,
But then the springtime came, and the world took back control.

Will you bring the colour back into her world,
And show her proof that she is wrong?
The world may try to defeat us, but we are our only superiors!
And you have known it all along.

-
I wake
    A thirst
        A terrible thirst
            Rouses me from dreamless sleep
                So down to the kitchen
                    To douse and slake
                         With book in hand...
-
Aurthur
    A hero?
        This King of golden,
            Olden tales
                More like David
                    Than I previously knew!
-
A boatload of infants
    Four weeks old and unattended
        Born around May Day
            And a good man's wife
                Plays wet nurse
                    to King Aurthur's undoing
-
Elsewhere on my bookshelf,
    Apollo strips
        Marsyas of his outer finery
            After winning the battle
                ...Of the bands
-
Flayings a-plenty on canvases  
    In my image search results
      ...With "happy little trees"
            And the Faun
                 Skinned to his knees
-

Soothing voice of Bob Ross plays
    on loop in my head

Some of the only peace that has come
    Of late

-
Happy-little-flayings
    Happy-little-monstrosities
-

The sky is darkened, the sun is hiding
    his face in skies over 'round the
        eastern edge...and the moon is
            refusing to shine her light.

-

I open my throat and try to
    say...anything
        
           To YOU
.
.
.
And back toward my bedroom I climb

The legends won't tell
of Arthur when he fell in love
when he swooned for the arm that held Excalibur
extended out to him
how he did a double take
and stuttered and gawked
at the simple beauty of her flawless freckled skin.

And in this moment
I behold the Lady of the Lake
her divine completeness:
holy and whole.
Elegant sloping shoulders
a regal neckline pleading to be united
with loving lips
in an everlasting caress.
Water droplets dripping from her form--
reluctant,
wishing they could reverse the laws of nature
fall up from the surface
to bead and cling to skin again--
desiring to be as close as we
as she entrances me with emerald eyes
rivers of red hair
enchanting lips that know no equal.

She's won me over
and she drags me under
below the water
beneath the lapping waves.
The ripples on the surface
echo my farewell to the world.

Alone she weaves her tangled web
Twisting, tying, all amiss
and she sees not the darkened threads
that twine about her wrists.

A single light in a darkened room
one window one mirror, little sight
to the world outside her bower wall
Blurred separation between day and night.

Her head swirls with tangled threads
forgotten thoughts and anguish low
the monotony of a thousand days
left to weave and wind and sew

Sighs escape now from her lips
those ruby lips, once known by kings
now known to only lament and sobs
for what she lost in love-lorn pining.

"Faithless have I been, O father."
she breathes at morning prayers
as pearl beads slip through milk white hands
and dust hangs about the air.

When all is done, and mass is sung
she retires to her cell
once again to sew and weave
her rich and long, sad, tale.

First she finds the pale while thread
and then she finds the blue
And quickly, with her shaking hands
weaves the face she once knew.

She weaves the gown of green she wore
on the fated wedding day
and adds the flaxen hair he praised
When laced with the flowers of May.

At last she finds the golden thread,
but pauses, silent, the room a mess
she lays the golden spool aside
and kneels before the long locked chest.

With trembling hands, and gleaming eyes
she lifts the lid, on the life she once had
A rush of air and dust and mould
and feeling, at once, joyful and sad.

First she takes the bright blue gown
and then she takes the green,
finds the jewels her mother wore
it's all where it should have been.

Within the dusty corner dark,
the twilight fading, sun going down
she sees the gleam of gold once more
and takes from the depths her golden crown.

In the flickers of the candlelight
the jewels they sparkle once again,
And all the memories come rushing back
From childhood days to the kingdom's end.

Tears are falling from her eyes
when again she takes the golden thread
and reverently she weaves the crown
upon the figure's head.

At last she's cut the final string
and takes a step back from the frame
she sees her life before her eyes,
and feels the tears come again.

There Arthur stands, in kingly garb
His soft eyes staring back at her
and in his arms, her younger self,
she remembers, how happy they once were.

To her left stands Lancelot
his shining armor gleaming bright
his pleading gaze finds her again
with the love that turned to blight.

Between these two men she still stands
Two heros, once in brotherhood bound
She chose the Knight above absent King
and three hearts were trampled into the ground.

Memories swirl about her head
as she takes the knife flashing flint,
and drives the blade into the silk
Till every thread once whole, lies rent.