it wasn’t love
rather lust
a gentle hand
a breach of trust
a quickened breath
an easy lie
a dance with death
a hard goodbye.

Atlas makes me wonder sometimes about what true struggle is. A never ending hell, carrying the world and the sky apart, so two ancient lovers never again experience the joy of a child who could be their advocate. They bore thousands just to shed their blight upon this world and purge all the divergent paths. Should I release  Atlas from his ******* and tell the two ancient lovers to love again so that the paths between us never again diverge? Or are you terrified in the idea of a path that converges like I am? I know Atlas would be more that joyful to be relieved, but what catastrophe would come from Gaia and Uranus giving birth to their next harbinger of death? This fear is so dumbfounding  and beyond my reasoning. I suppose, my love, that it's because we have no idea where our paths lead. But in the end, words are like the paths we take, ever flowing from the distance we make them out to be. So let's see where these paths lead so we will one day be able to converge at last without the fears of a lonely man. Atlas, begone! We've made our decision. Good day! And goodmorning my love. Let's now have the greatest talk about nothing at all ever and make those paths larger than ever thought to be.

Only seven years old
And I was no longer a beautiful rose.

Wilted, dying, deflowered.

But like a tree falling in the woods,
Do I even make a sound at all?

Too young to understand,
I never said anything.

But as I grew,
I felt... bad.
*****,
Unworthy,
Unlovable.

I felt that there must not be a single person on earth
Who could ever take me as I am,
Broken.

When I began to understand, I still said nothing.
And when it happened again,
This time by someone closer,
I knew what it was.

I felt betrayed.
I felt sick.
Like I had just done the worst thing any human being could have possibly done.
Like I was a failure,
I felt terrible.

Months passed, and eventually I got better, but not without my family
Taking note of that short period when I wasn't okay.
They never knew.
They still don't know.

That when I was seven,
I was ruined.
That, as I turn sixteen,
I fear the life ahead of me because of what they did.
That, when I see him, one of them,
And I hear him coughing and out of breath,
Alzheimer's taking him, slowly, not fast enough,
I wish for him to die.

That I fear every male I come into contact with.

That I lived with my tormentor.

That they took my innocence,

That it wasn't just one,
It was two,
And I remember every detail even though I may lie about it.

I might say "I don't know."
"I don't remember."
But every last second, colour, texture, feeling, breath, detail,
Is forever etched into my mind.

We've heard of seven deadly sins,
Where do seven graces begin?
One is a smile on every face,
Then kindness to all is a grace,
Humility is to bless,
Sharing is great, no less,
Peace in daily life,
Walk away from strife,
Understanding is for free,
Compassion for all he's and she's,
Share these among all races,
Should bring a smile to their faces,
That's seven heavenly graces.......

why look upon the stars
when your eyes hold the same light?
i sail along glistening seas
until i'm lost, out of sight
look for the seventh wonder
through the day and through the night

years pass; i grow weak.

why listen to the sea
when i can hear you speak?
without warning, waves grow violent
shattering me, a deafening shriek

why try to brave the storm
when my heart's been tossed asunder?
it was only when you gazed at her
that i found the seventh wonder.

Envy
When you see me with him
And you wish
I was yours.

Lust
In your eyes as you take my head
In your hands
And kiss me like you've wanted to

Greed
I am in your hands,
And only yours.
But you want more

Gluttony
You take what is yours
And I give willingly
I keep on giving, and you keep taking

Sloth
As we lay,
Tired
Exhausted from the work we've done

Pride
When you show me off to your friends at the bar
And you have a few drinks,
Leaving sloppy kisses on my cheeks while they laugh

Wrath
When we are home, and I am too tired to give
Your hands gripping my hair as you yell,
And you finally set free the demon within

I.  AVARICE

Gregory loved money
Compare him to a toad.
A solid golden palace
Was his high abode.

He had many servants
To wait upon his needs.
He paid them in pennies
Such was his great greed.

He accounted his vast wealth
All throughout the day
When it came time to bill you
You had better *pay.

Greg had gold, but he grew old
Arthritic and halt
When he was laid, at last, in state,

They did so in a *vault.


II.  ENVY

Ella was quite beautiful
Compare her to a snake.
She sipped upon the finest wines
But her thirst was never slaked.

There was a little servant girl
Younger and more fair,
Ella hated this young lass
Put her in despair.

She showed a vile temperament
Acted like a cur.
Ella hated everyone
Who had more than her.

Her envy made her very ill,
And she finally passed.
She was buried with her mirror

And rots before her glass.


III.  WRATH

Arthur was an angry man,
Compare him to a lion.
He roared around his castle
And had a will of iron.

He was always virulent
In both word and pen,
Would beat his wife and servants
Time and time again.

He waged many futile wars
With kingdoms all around.
Many grieved, for he laid siege,
And burned them to the ground.

He captured the women,
And so he had a pride,
But he lived by iron sword,

So by the sword he died.


IV.  SLOTH

Lackadaisical Lucy
Compare her to a snail.
She scarce emerged from her soft bed,
Laziness prevailed.

She wouldn't lift a finger
To dust or do a dish,
She lived on an inheritance,
To sleep her only wish.

The housework just did not get done,
She wouldn't even cook.
She'd order out from Domino's
And had an unkempt look.

She finally died in her own bed,
Her sands of time were gone,
She exhaled her last breath

With an enormous yawn.


V.  GLUTTONY

Gerald was a glutton.
Compare him to a pig.
He'd consume most anything,
And didn't care a fig!

When he ate a stack of pancakes,
Now, I tell no lie,
It was so tall, to see them all,
You'd have to view the sky!

Gerry was enormous,
As big as a barn.
He had so many folds & rolls
He was the Michelin man!

He just couldn't get enough!
The pancakes just a teaser!
And when they finally buried him

They did so in a freezer!


VI.  LUST

Louis was so lustful
We'll compare him to a goat.
A female weasel is a ****,
The male is a stoat.

He was a musician,
And, man, that boy would *rock!
He had an *******
Almost 'round the clock!

No problems getting women
They never gave him grief!
He had so many groupies
He was known as the Kalif!

But one of his liasons
Didn't go as planned
He lost his life due to the wife

Of a jealous man!


VII.  PRIDE

Percy was quite prideful,
Like a peacock rare.
He had the finest clothing,
Bright beyond compare!

He was given everything,
He had things in hand.
His tailors were acknowledged
As the finest in the land!

His enemies planed out a coup
When a good time arose.
They had Percy fitted
For the Emperor's new clothes.

The townspeople were furious!
Gave Percy the boot!
So he was buried in a ditch

In his birthday suit!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/17/2017

Chaotic cabinet of curios,
obsessive dreams unlocked her secret drawers.
Who was Sylvia, a poetic
slave to an idealized dead father?

Her suurogate father figure Ted
would never do. Her seven year
itch at last unstuck her glue, sent
her back to hom she hardly knew.

There isn't much left.
That's the way it is sometimes.
You plan and plan
for the day
when there won't be any,
and yet you're still surprised
when there isn't much left
in the end.

My days are not like seven fat cows
or seven skinny ones.
My days are like veal.
They're slaughtered young,
and at night I feast upon them.

Some nights I can sleep contentedly afterwards..
And others,
I lay awake unable to dream at all.

Guilt keeps me awake.
I've become a kosher butcher of time!
Often my own.

That's the way it is sometimes.
There isn't much left.
So I plan and plan
trying to postpone the day
when there won't be any.