#diana
There she laid down her wearied head
To rest one final time under the shade
‘O the wiry willow
Beneath, her thoughts spun webs of distant times past
Where honeysuckle wrapped tendrils round
The rugged walnut
Smells of various mountain flowers after a fresh rain
Accompanied the familiar tune of birds singing
An ode to the swaying oaks
A soft breeze warmed the chill of biting winter's cold
Sending shivers down her frail frame
Skeletal like the barren birch
She blinked in time to barking angry squirrels
Displeased with the lack of fruit
Left by the poor pawpaw
Vision, already blurred by cataract, began to fade
As the mountain consumed the setting sun
The light filtered by forlorn firs
It was time.
Long had she waited to join those that had gone before
Patient to be reunited with her love long lost
During the spring of blooming dogwood
Distant, she could see him, strong and proud
With effort she reached out to her beloved
A mighty hickory
Exhaling, she breathed her last.
After her life, Diana, goddess of the forest
Let grow a grove of various mountain trees
Surrounding a single rhododendron
Her life, a monument to the nature she loved.
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 2:07 PM UTC
Pagtulog na lang ang pahinga
Pag gising, ikaw ang laman ng isip, ngunit
Pagkapikit ng mga mata
Pag-ibig mo pa rin ang hanap sa panaginip.
Sa gabi'y isang bangungot;
Sa araw'y malabong imahinasyon
Samantalang ang pinakamasalimuot—
Sabik akong magkatotoo lahat ng 'yon.
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 2:48 PM UTC
The darkness of oxblood naugahyde booths barely steeped
in feeble candle light
Cocktails upon cocktails and cigarettes until we realize,
my companion and I,
That we have been completely blocked in
No chance of escape
Not even to ***
So we’re basically sliding out to nowhere.
In time the tabletop becomes covered
with the rings of dripping condensation
from Guinness cans.
Wet ring upon ring sparkle and
At times aluminum is slammed down upon the table,
And not at all casually.
You see, we were being marked
as theirs
A mighty squadron of faux suede heads
blocking access so
that no **** Yank may approach
(and this is Hollywood)
They might as well have hung a Union Jack)
These two birds
We were territories to be given
To Her Majesty.
I’m Hope and She’s Glory.
Or is it.....
They keep announcing to us that
“Diana is dead.”
And we keeping replying “yes, we know,
the tv is on,” pointing behind us.
Earlier that night
we sat on the floor
At the coffee table
Snorting narrow lines of *******
with CNN on in the background
They announce twice as we lean back and wipe our nostrils that
Diana, Princess of Wales
has been in a motor crash
and has broken her wrist.
Well that *****
A broken wrist in Paris.
We returned our focus back
to the coffee table
and the announcer comes back
this time with a completely different tone
Sombre
Really sombre
He states
Diana, Princess of Wales
Is Dead.
Dead?
We announced to each other
with jinx simultaneity and incredulity.
It was just her wrist?
Once at the bar we made cracks
About off-shore bank accounts
receiving wire transfers from the Queen.
That previous summer in the first food aisle of
Rock and Roll Ralph’s
I turned towards the sunlight and
saw her image on an American tabloid
Displayed in the point of sale racks
At checkout
There were two rather fuzzy photos
Shining golden hair on a turned feminine head
A blue maillot
A diving board off a yacht
Arms wrapped in the Sea
And I thought softly to myself
“Oh no.”
But I can’t even tell you why.
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 2:12 PM UTC
#*But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild,
Else of our *** why feigned they those nine
And poesy made Calliope’s own child*? Anne Bradstreet
Huntress, fill my pleading glass !
Let this marksman’s blood be merry.
Whether we shoot hind or ***
Hail our wet preliminary.
Having brought to birth such brave quadruplets,
Let us toast the midwife with our couplets.
Sweet Diana pours her rounds:
Tawny Port and Shooting Sherry.
Hares now flee the baying hounds
For their country sanctuary.
Thine the night, oh bright and savage huntress;
Lead us to the quarry, chaste Artemis.
Conejito, hide yourself
From the charging adversary
Who would change your pelt for pelf;
(All close shaves are cautionary).
Forgive our clanging gong and sounding brass;
They serve to drive the quarry from the grass.
Healing balm: such sporting frolic,
Dares us to stay sedentary;
Banishing our melancholic
State, her bright apothecary!
Wild huntress, let us know you as the Greeks
And quiver as our heart your arrow seeks.
Toast we now the careless hunt;
Spoonerists wax luminary.
Visions of the hairless ****
Make my lay discretionary.
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 10:19 AM UTC
Out of the dark forest I stumbled
onto the pebbles of a moonlit lake
my languid eyes bumbled
swallowing down philter mistakes
a pale goddess in the flesh
how my stupefied eyes stared
at the beauty of her nakedness
something in me flared
flared and turned and burned
my flesh no longer mine
stag in form standing taciturn
she calls out for my canines
I run and try to yell
nothing escapes my lungs
pattering of legs hungry to quell
come to rip flesh with teeth and tongues
stumbling and tripping over
stones, limbs, roots and mud
left to a new life a stag rover
I hear the ******* and the studs
faster and faster I try to move
from this typhoon wave of carnivorous hounds
but curse these feeble hooves
the claws and teeth came crashing around
flesh stabbed with a thousand teeth
a pack of mouths tear and pull
a stag corpse I bequeath
to the hunger of my own wolves
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
I feel the old gods in me breathe.
Subtle hands, contracting intercostals,
feminine fingers that scream and wail when I let men with ill intent come near me -
feminine fingers that announce themselves as Athena, Diana.
Do you have a legacy?
I feel Nefertiti, Osiris, Iris, clench their fists in my gut when I cry in my sleep and wake up angry -
Hecate spits and twitches her paws when my undulating heart lacks the oil that flourished during her reign.
Wings over me, the contorted body of Nike. Protective but irate.
A shout, and a burst blood vessel in the corner of my eye -
by the aging moon this tumult of Dido's wild ichor inside me grows...
Have you ever used your voice?
Athena's words in my head telling me to scream -
Roar of the old gods telling me to run -
Their tongues in the sand and in the grass blades.
Child of flesh and hard times.
An unknown voice from the mouth of my mother commands me - 'take firm grasp of the magic within you'
Perhaps I am too afraid to reply.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
Diana of the woods and
Wild animals, as swift as winds
That rustle leaves, her muscles are as
Mighty as the brown bear, her legs are as
Steady and strong as the wolf dog that yips
At her swiveling hips, her motion as graceful
As the rushing rivers, yet as fierce as a tornado’s
Spiral, pouncing, bounding, she cuts the air as sharp
As the arrow that springs from her bow, eyes transfixed
On her target—
Diana, goddess of the woods and
Wild animals, captured in black bronze
And displayed atop marble like a prize won.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 1:00 PM UTC
I blame Diana, the hunt, the game.
He was a fool for her wily ways.
I blame the girl, the victor of the tale.
She gets the spoils, I only fail.
He says he needs time.
But time doesn't wait.
Sep 20, 2017
Sep 20, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC
Princess Diana came back last week
She wore all her pretty clothes
And looked stunning in her hats
She went about her ways as best she could
But there was no hiding all the sorrow in her eyes.
The luckiest girl in all the world
Chosen to one day be the Queen
And then demoted to a brood mare
By a Prince who was secretly a ****
Her fairy tale had not even got it’s start
When she found out how it would end,
And she was trapped by tea towels
With her face imprinted on them.
She delivered all that was required of her
And even though the song was ended
Managed to write a second verse
Which the conductor wasn’t keen to play.
Yet the music gave her legs to stand on
And the tune grew to a symphony
As she performed it for the World
Who found the melody delicious
And her solos so profound.
Lady Di is back again,
That simple girl who saved herself
To become the lamb for royal slaughter
By a horde of calculating courtesans
Who knew she didn’t matter from the start.
Left to slumber peacefully,
On her private island
Lo these twenty years,
Safe from flashing cameras
And the machinations of the Crown
Diana may be dead but her legend is alive.
ljm
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC
~~<《》>~~
goddess rides the moon
glowing amorphous, with stars
sparking from her tail
HAIKU
SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/13/2017
Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 2:35 AM UTC
AFTER 20 YEARS DIANA'S STORY
NOW WILL BE TOLD
HERE ON AUSTRALIAN TELEVISION HER
LIFE AND LOVES WILL UNFOLD
I HOPE THEY REPORT THE
TRUE PRINCESS THAT SHE WAS
HER LEGACY AND DEDICATION
WILL LIVE ON BECAUSE
SHE WAS A PRINCESS THAT
LIVED LIFE FROM HER HEART
AND HER LEGACY AND DYNASTY
IN HER CHILDREN WILL NEVER PART
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 10:58 PM UTC
Sustenance for friends and clients;
state your case – come one, come all.
The matron arms of Social Service
will not let you fall.
Food stamps make our nation stronger,
licked, then stuck on the public roll.
Social programs last much longer
adding recipients on the dole…
Like the Ephesian Diana
many are my benefits!
Mine the matriarchal manna;
latch and suckle at my teats.
Yours the client’s right to nurture.
Mother will supply your need;
Child, you must not fear the future –
feed, my baby, feed.
Call me nanny, call me Lord
just make sure you’re calling on me.
Mine are the gifts you can afford
they’re taxpayer-funded, worry-free!
Once you are latched I’ll keep it flowing
like an intravenous habit.
Keep that ****** situated
where your will can never grab it
Let it never cross your mind
that there’s an end to all lactation.
Cloward-Piven have refined
this titillation.
Love me. Need me. I’m the State.
Your well-being is my affair.
With your consent I’ll dominate,
because I care.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
Lips dusted with *******
Every kiss has you addicted
Sniffing out all this pain
To make it through the life im living
Selling my soul for pocket change
Hoping to see the end of the day
Slits on my wrists
Looking like a checklist
Internal bruises
And burnt cigarette lips
Sleepless nights
Staring at the city lights
Inhalation and contemplation
Oh, how devastating the decisions im making
I used to be this rose growing from the concrete
Now I'm just a penny lying on the street
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC