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What a rush, a terrible rush
At my own expense
Running blind like always
My sordid adventures
But I'll be back soon

I don't know how to drown
In your tall trees yet
And I envy them a little
Embraced at their necks
By loving ghosts

Please hold me, too?
Find me when I'm lost?
Perhaps I'll kiss you with my eyes closed
Pull you under me
Wade more gently

I'll cool you down
Leave you just long enough
To shiver in my absence
Or taste the salt
I left on your lips
It is the oldest story we know.

They all lost their innocence.

Rib-cages became prisons,
the daisies plaited and knotted into hair wilted.
Hihi lovely
As a little kid, I loved bed time stories, it felt very safe and I felt rather invincible.
Do you like bed time stories?
x
An armor of cloth
is all I have to offer.
                                                 resonate like tiger lilies
     A shield of granite
splinters like glass
                                                  extend further than orchids
         A sword of ink
spun from the backbones
of poets awaits you
                                                   bleed thicker than roses
This is the art
of flirting with
death and
having a one night
stand
with life.
.
She loves me, she loves me not....

© Copywrite Skaidrum
.
What a tragedy.
Her love was her Forte on sheets of bronze,
Symphonies to sway all the right colors---
And his his eyes were foreign
to the music.
No way to read her passion existed.

Simple misunderstandings can destroy us....just like that.
.
For Belle.

© Copywrite Skaidrum
A fixation of light
A point in the sky, frozen at will.
Steel clashing, gold splinterimg.
Dust off some humility.
Time has bent what cannot snap,
And trust me I've had my fair share
of traitors.
Injecting betrayal.
Rusted love on
Platinum shoulders.
The world is leaning because my right shoulder can't hold it up.
I will seize the planets and tuck them along my sleeve.
The waxing dawn,
And waning dusk.
I'm not worth my weight in silver.
I'm collecting my friends 'neath the willow tree.
Will it be the only one weeping when I'm gone?
....anyone?

© Copywrite Skaidrum
I've got some promises to keep


There's a degree of difficulty
In dealing with me
From my haunted past
Comes a daunting task
A midnight escape is stuck in my mind
There's not an open window I can find
Staring at the wall
Forgetting it all
I'll guard your heart and forget my own
To make up for the happiness you've shown
Whispering to him absently
I'm trying to prevent another tragedy
Wilting bones and herbal fear
Are all at once crystal clear
These fevered dreams
Bringing terror screams
What is running through your veins?
A blood that cause pain
I've drained your life that night
Alone with the dark sight
The fires set ablaze
Not even phased
When the smoke does pass
I'll rise from the ash
And show you a burning Phoenix free
But what if I can't be all that you need me to be?

Another night without sleep
Ahkira.
"The past is a bucket of ashes."

            1

THE WOMAN named To-morrow
sits with a hairpin in her teeth
and takes her time
and does her hair the way she wants it
and fastens at last the last braid and coil
and puts the hairpin where it belongs
and turns and drawls: Well, what of it?
My grandmother, Yesterday, is gone.
What of it? Let the dead be dead.
  
            2

The doors were cedar
and the panels strips of gold
and the girls were golden girls
and the panels read and the girls chanted:
  We are the greatest city,
  the greatest nation:
  nothing like us ever was.
  
The doors are twisted on broken hinges.
Sheets of rain swish through on the wind
  where the golden girls ran and the panels read:
  We are the greatest city,
  the greatest nation,
  nothing like us ever was.
  
            3

It has happened before.
Strong men put up a city and got
  a nation together,
And paid singers to sing and women
  to warble: We are the greatest city,
    the greatest nation,
    nothing like us ever was.
  
And while the singers sang
and the strong men listened
and paid the singers well
and felt good about it all,
  there were rats and lizards who listened
  ... and the only listeners left now
  ... are ... the rats ... and the lizards.
  
And there are black crows
crying, "Caw, caw,"
bringing mud and sticks
building a nest
over the words carved
on the doors where the panels were cedar
and the strips on the panels were gold
and the golden girls came singing:
  We are the greatest city,
  the greatest nation:
  nothing like us ever was.
  
The only singers now are crows crying, "Caw, caw,"
And the sheets of rain whine in the wind and doorways.
And the only listeners now are ... the rats ... and the lizards.
  
            4

The feet of the rats
scribble on the door sills;
the hieroglyphs of the rat footprints
chatter the pedigrees of the rats
and babble of the blood
and gabble of the breed
of the grandfathers and the great-grandfathers
of the rats.
  
And the wind shifts
and the dust on a door sill shifts
and even the writing of the rat footprints
tells us nothing, nothing at all
about the greatest city, the greatest nation
where the strong men listened
and the women warbled: Nothing like us ever was.
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