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Ryan Holden May 2017
As she breaks and burns,
Through this narrowing night,
Her ointment of prowess
Takes over the duty,
A fraction of lumens,
Yet just as bright
To those glaring eyes.

As she howls over this hill,
She echoes through trees,
Snapping twigs as she goes,
Turning us to stone,
As we stare
At medusa of the night.
A poem about the moon!
Stone Fox Apr 2017
These ****** intentions
seem to **** more than those so-called "reported" serial *******.

To say,
      -off the record-
that you give me both...
feels very disturbingly corrupt

yet thats not why you see me blushing.


can this burning betrayal flesh be helped or better prevented? probably not

my fight or flight instinct is to be the only suicidal bunny wet with desire, pressed up against the starving fox
wanting you to give me it all.

this is to be the root of my eternal damnation.

have all these urges
      -that even you have yourself-
really be tainting the fragile lining of my soul using only my sinful secrets like a parasite?

or is the questioning of my own morality while you **** me religiously the real sin?

How dare my mind even wonder while you posses me from the inside.

if i am to be ****** for finding what you only long for then so be it,
mark me ****** and chisel me into the future's mythology.

and on that day,
the divine powers from above decide to strike me down,
        when they smight me,

plaguing me with some eternal curse
I will welcome all fates with a smile.

I found a love so powerful it made destiny insecure

resulting as my name serving as some cautionary tail of knowing ones place
forever blazing in the stories with danger and warning.

but even if the sight of me were to turn you to stone, making me your demise,

i will deliver your marble tomb each and every time.

I will always choose to make you hard-always.
my take on the mythology of Medusa
annanotherthing Apr 2017
I’m Medusa, yes Medusa
Not long life that was Methuselah
Vile violent visage I am the muse for
Gorgon legend is my future

I’m abused and an abuser
I am used and I’m a user
Magnet to so many suitors
Once a beauty now a bruiser

Myth: Just deserts for killer cougar
Truth: ***** then accused as a seducer
Athene was my disapprover
Sisterhood is just a rumour

Hair curled tight it can’t get smoother
Locks they’re snakes crawled from a sewer
Lovers now they’re getting fewer
Call me mad it’s only lunar

Perseus my persecutor
In slaying Titans he’d been tutored
He is blessed, I’m outmanoeuvred
My death births Pegasus the wing’d hoofer

Seem to have lost my sense of humour
Need more than a troubleshooter
Temperature has just got cooler
Turn to stone you’re such a loser

anna jones ©2017
MP Martinez Mar 2017
born ugly and wick
a monster and a beast
but what's behind
the story of yours?
hidden beneath those eyes of gold
you wear scales as your skin
but is it impenetrable of pain?

In the eyes of gods
you were wronged
but it was them
who made the fault
always be remembered
etched in the pages
of history untold
a merciless and vicious fiend
not a young maiden
who desired to be loved
but was taken before she could have
her story which never been told.  Medusa
In your Sillouette,
Painted Gold, against Magic Curtain.
This Oz Stage, Hiding our bodies.
I am lingering.

You are gilded beautiful
Bare ******* pointed at Chandeliers
****** Capstones sealing perfect Arches
I am a foot protruding from your sculpture
In mustard.
I am that blot behind your Hip Bone

Cold Draft from the window
Opened Opposite the Magic curtain
A breath of ocean waves
Our bodies casting illusions
In ripples of Moonlit fabric
Dancing around our sillouette.

Black Moss collects in the shape of your tattoos
Silk screen thighs,
Underbust Corset

where the breeze whispered

where my fingertips wrapped your hipbones.
growing where we Calloused
In our Roughs
In our trenches
Rubbing Leather against Silk

You invested in our common interest.
A mirror, Fastened to the Ceiling.
Reflecting Our Two Loudest Vices.
Ownership,
And your body.

I love the Chips in your paint.
I hate the man who painted you.

infected by Tunnel vision Voyeurism
Sick with a Spiderweb brain
Spinning from your imperfections.
You are so, perfect.

Artists come from all over
To watch the magic curtain.

Your Golden arching Back.
My Mustard Toes.

we all look at you,
even you look at you.
we do not Blink.
Just stare, position ourselves.
behind this curtain.

Our callouses grow like the black moss
bodies marble under ocean pressure
erode from the chill winds
Your archaic exhibitionism
Carved From Counting Gazes
Mustard eternally pondering
why our sillouettes, different colors
Drawn by the same moon,
Casted on the same cloth.
AmyKatrinaSmith Jan 2017
I look up to the sky to seek comfort from the star’s
There light glistening in my cold dead eyes
My body used, but unloved
My Vows abused, and the temple tainted.
I am forever alone, until my undoing.
Those who seek from me what was cursed upon me,
so painfully, wrongfully and unjust.
First was the sharp pain of the cracking of my face,
And the bloating of my tongue.
Next came the brutal hardening of my eyes,
and the elongation of my teeth.
It felt like eternity,
the never-ending screams that would bellow out of me.
And when I thought it was over,
the agonizing snakes pierced from my skull in a ****** mess of flesh and teeth.
The serpents upon my head grant me no company,
for they hiss and they shake and they fight.
When I lay my head at night it’s as if I have a front row seat to an unending feud.
My tears are lost dreams for no man to drink
My lady has forsaken me, ****** me, Exiled me with an ungodly face.
Many have come to gaze upon me, to laugh, to point, to be cruel.
My only defense is a gaze so cold it turns any onlooker to stone
My garden grows, of stone figures
The unwise, and the foolish.
Monster they call me.
They have no idea of the cruelty I have endured.
The loneliness, the pain, the suffering.
I sit alone and scream, I sit alone a snake.
I sit alone in this unforgiving place.
I see a place of Beauty where children’s laughter fills the air.
I see poppies and streams and pink skies.
But when I awake I realize it was all but a dream
And I sink back into my hole of misery and despair.
Snowflakes glisten as I hold them in my hands
but shortly fade away as like my hopes and dreams.
I am forever tormented by the things I can never have.
Locked away was my virtue, now locked away is my joy.
My womb tainted by momentary pleasures
A disease growing inside of me planted there without consent.
Hello, again star’s, my only friends.
Your silver shine is the only glow that warms my heart.
I lay beneath your dazzling gaze,
I am yours and I pray we never part.
“a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.”
Ira Desmond Jan 2017
Avert your eyes
from looking directly
at the monster.

Look only through
that reflective shield,
that glowing rectangle

that parades a
distorted vision of
the objective self,

that which in
dark moments may
suddenly shut off,

revealing one’s face:
inverted, expressionless, petrified—
like when the

mirror of Perseus
at last revealed
Medusa’s horrifying visage.
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