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She said those words
'Let's be friends'
If I never hear
those ******* words again
I swear to God
it would be too soon
Comical words
invoking cartoon
characters that are
kooky and dumb
Because that's where
these filthy words are from

You must take me for a wide-eyed naive
Or an escapee of the mentally insane
ward of a prison or "hospital"
or whatever politically correct term it's called

You can take your friendship
and shove it up your ***
I know,
I'm sorry
Such a statement has no class
It's crass
But I don't give a ****
I'm angry right now
For a moment
I had hope
You got back in somehow

I built such sturdy walls
grand and tall
Made you stand outside
Press that intercom button to call
Kept you at a distance
But time turns scar tissue dull
You smiled and you waited
Baited me into a lull

We'd hang and talk
You'd smile and laugh
Hours upon hours
the time would pass
So comfortable; So easy
Something others don't have
Thoughts and dreams start again
But Nope,
Sorry! Too bad!

A forgotten feeling
Also an ember burning deep
High hopes birth expectations
That you did not want to meet
'It's just complicated right now'
Some ******* that you say
Oh! Okay! That makes everything better now
Hip-hip-hooray!

You were just being honest
Saying how you felt
It was me with the problem
A hand of cards that were self dealt
All the work I had done
The counseling and the meds
Heart-to-heart talks
Many books I have read
Feeling so confident
but overconfident I was
Unaware of the noise
A teeth shattering buzz
Blindly I stood
with the answers there for me
Head in the sand
Look away; don't want to see

'Only fools love'
you said to me once
Thought I knew what you meant
Had an inkling or a hunch
But not a ******* clue
is the sad, sad truth
Your forked-tongue spit it's venom
Words used to sooth

Mask after mask
you pulled from your face
Never the truth
Confused in a daze
You grasped with tentacles
Ensnared with your web
Lies are your candy
I was endlessly fed

My mind a toy
Not anything more
My heart for your consumption
***** kept in a drawer
Rip me apart
Please tear me down
Your never-ending heartache
I'll choke in and drown

Under your foot
Under your thumb
An insect; A maggot
Piece of dirt; Lowly ****
What am I now?
What have I become?
What was I to begin with?
A child on the run
Running with fear
You made my heart run
Mouth running had your ear
My torture was your fun

Should I call you a '*****'?
Smear your name? Shout out '*****!'
Would that equal out the playing field?
Somehow even the score?
Playing games, put on pause
Maybe save for later
But there's no saving this time
Tend each need; I am your waiter
Forever I'll wait
so endlessly I am waiting
Madly love you
Yet for me, I am hating

Thunderous booms
The sky streaked with light in veins
War is raging all around us
and in the balance we remain
Here I remain
even though there's no balance
Must be insane
Have me committed to this mess

You are a jigsaw puzzle
with half completed pieces in my mind
The rest of it a jumble
The other pieces I can't find
The nervous dog who is confused
I follow your commands
Unfulfilled, I'm simply used
Didn't go the way I planned

Now to me you speak
as you tell me so much more
of the textbook cliche nonsense
Told a million times before
You feign heartfelt sincerity,
interest and concern
Who you care for is a short list
It's as if I'll never learn

There was a version that before
was living at one time I think
But nothing in this life is free
As rain pours down, in mud we sink
So proudly I strut and adorn
my stunning hand-made concrete shoes
The complimentary attire
fitting all the bad I choose

Now frozen here
as I am kept
unkempt in this very dark place
Place marker for my maker
Marks
Without a mark
An unmarked
grave
Written: March 8, 2018

All rights reserved
r Sep 2013
Poetry is my inscapee
My outscapee
My escapee
All three

r
3 sept 13
Inspired by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844 - 1889. Victorian poet extraordinaire).   Not sure which is best for me, but he understood the concept of inscape well.
Chelle Quezon Oct 2014
Mirror, mirror on the wall.
Who'll catch me when I fall?

Mirror, mirror I knew this man,
I hear his voice and I feel like ****!

Mirror, mirror everytime he laughs
I just can't explain how he give me crafts.

Mirror, mirror whenever he speaks
I feel like I'm on clouds at its peak.

Mirror, mirror he gives me butterflies
He keeps me happy and never let me cries.

Mirror, mirror he send me shivers
Its overflowing just like other rivers.

Mirror, mirror this is something new
I hope this won't fade and forever please be true.

Mirror, mirror he said he loves me
He'll never hurt me he guarantee.

Mirror, mirror he said I'm all his
With those three words I feel bliss.

Mirror, mirror on his bended knee
He hold my heart and there's no escapee.

Mirror, mirror forever is for fantasy
So that means lifetime is for reality.

Mirror, mirror my heart beats,
If this ain't forever please delete.

Mirror, mirror remove my doubt and my fear
With this man that's gentle and truly sincere.

Mirror, mirror give me my happily ever after
Let me write my own love story and be the master.
Captured in the psych ward part 20


You see Robert stone has been driving the whole HDU crazy with his noise, he is cursing little jingles like
Let me out now let me our now
Let me out ya fucken *****
I wanna ***** my wife and kids
You see the screws have got me hey have got me they have got me all wrong you see I am going to pretend to behave so I can do that again and
While that was going on, Ron was at home reading up all the juicy details about Robert Stone on the Internet and what he found out was not good
You see the information that Robert gave him besides his name was false
You apparently Robert Stone was a prison escapee from goulburn gaol
And he was in there for 20 years serving a 26 year sentence for killing his two sons right in the head to make his wife suffer for having an affair and for Ron? This looks very interesting he said and then Ron picked up the phone and rang goulburn gaol and then said as the prison governor answers the phone and Ron said, do you have a prison escapee by the name of Robert stone who is in there for murdeting his boys, my name is Ron cooper the psychologist of the royal Melbourne and I think I have your prisoner in our HDU, and the governor said, well yeah we did have that patient but we thought he had died, so we called off the search, and Ron said, well I am sure this is The Robert stone you are looking for
Mainly because he was threatening the kids in the children's ward and then he said he was Robert stone. I know sometimes the mentally I'll pretend to be people their not but
It's weird that that he does look like this guy, would you like to come and ID the man? Cause I have got a 16 year old here and the others might have problems with him, cause we can't keep him in solitary forever and the governor said, I will send an officer right away to bring him back, but it does sound like our man cause
He wasn't mentally ill and Ron told him he had schotzpgrenia but the officer said it is a load of crap, he is just saying that so he can be let off the hook but by law, before we get there you give him a mental health assessment but I am sure he will be
Passed as negative and then they said goodbye and Ron went for his usual at fran and dan's cafe and said, you know that man that went to the HDU yesterday well he could be a very dangerous psychopath who served a 26 year sentence at goulburn gaol and dan said well well well, aren't you the busy bee, and fran said to Ron you notice that Barry isn't here. Appsrentky he went over to New York apparently Barry Allan was a stock broker in New York
And was holidaying here in Melbourne and he gave you this card thanking you for being a terrific friend to him while he was here and Ron had his breakfast and then went to the hospital and as soon as he arrived there the nurses said you got a call from the Goilburn gaol.  Saying
They are sending a police car for Robert stone and Ron said thanks, yeah, apparently he is a prison escapee from there and no matter how much help I can give him, it still is hard to fight the law and then Ron
Went into the HDU and said to Bill, just get your things and I will be there in a minute and then went in and bought Robert his breakfast and he opened the door and Robert asked Ron Are you trying to help today, I have written down some things that I want to do and how I can rebuild my life, and Ron gave Robert his breakfast and said, no mate keep that for your probation officer in goulburn gaol, I know about you now, and it ain't pretty nice it ain't pretty at all Robert stone
Child killer and this made Robert stone yell out ****, I thought you see my way. No I don't see the way of someone who kills kids to make women suffer mate, sorry, and then Ron locked his door and then took Bill to TAFE and then went fran and dans to have a milkshake and vanilla ice and he said today I told Robert stone that he had been found out
By us and the police car is on the way and then a man named Patrick Enright is sitting in the back slurping his drink saying this drink is wonderful and then Ron said I think that so many dangerous criminals are falling through the cracks and people like is are ssving them and then we know only what fhey tell us and Patrick said, no, really we should not worry about that, in General speaking people should be given a fair go, the prison system in Australia is stupid and everyone in there is wanting to escape, yeah you saved the street from him but for how long and what about all those mentally ill people they have at the HDU, where are they going to go and dan says Ron is the doctor there
And Patrick said of sorry, and Ron said I am going and went back to the TAFE to pick up bill and take him back to the HDU and then 1 hour after they got back the police have Arrived to take Robert away back goulburn gaol and Ron brought around the nightly medications and then clocked off and then bought fish and and chips and a two litre bottle of coke and as he went into his apartment he saw Patrick and he said what are you doing here, and Patrick said I am the new maintenance guy here and I am better than bob from Becker and then Ron went inside and fell asleep in front  of the television for the next day


Sent from my iPhone
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Being cared for
Here's the  adored door

Inside playing he pours the hearts

So like him the ricochet
Deeply love so cultured
My pearl crochet

Deeply cared about I got you
under my skin
I win your love ticket

The spool of
wool hit the floor
To the extreme
The sensitive mind

  And his feeling like the escapee finding
the higher
religion keeping that in mind
The everlasting  to be cared for or
not to be never lasting like someone
lost its hunger fasting

Waking up deeply recharged or
reproducing to
her neverending fairytale

Much deeper than 69 eye love shades
Deeply cared for beyond his loving
It comes and fades
Like Monopoly  "Godly Sun-Seeker" keeps
passing us
The game of life charades
Like Persian babies their
button nose deeply cared for to cuddle
The warmest meows hug and save

Like flour to sparkle, it deepens
like our mix, a love needs
to be worked on 
 do you really
care to fix?

But sending all the details
the lines soften pale pink rose
I felt your red fire putting
out the coldness fire and ice
To be saved on time
Like the fire chief,  
Acted like a French chef what
a love roue of the hose

Like silk my millennium  milk,
He held my finger but not
to sulk he said buckle up
What firmness and tightness
arm to arm wrestler such
bulk

Never to swear but a little lie 
  Wouldnt hurt my delicate
pinky finger
In her loop with her fur
deeply
Stepped into her mink

He's the frontman
Fresh cut lemon
Yellow sunshine
happy medium

I was wearing my hair middle parted
The picture slide the made man
Tied back my hair was deeply
Smooth talker well conditioned
With what conditions all recollections
But three strikes when you care for
someone you  don't fall out of love

  This world loves to be pampered
Cared about not scouted
All hole marks in the road badly routed
 With tons of work with the question mark?
The sign stayed with her
Deeply care about?

Like a play date let's pretend
You're both a handful
Like beer malt lips
Engraved love in the barrels
To feel deeply loved  he acted
Like the riddler

The beach her eyes were waiting to be reached
Sunset playing the fool marionette overly preached

So I  Bette
Beneath her wings
In the middle of their wed to be isles
The Green Gables emerald rings

Miss spinster-Sara Lee cake
His jeep was all she could take
How it ended up
In Greenwich Village then shipped
To Mystic Seaport Connecticut
The movie cut Cape Cod Massachusetts
The four letters in his pocket
Deeply 1 care 2 about 3 love 4

Needed a jump kickstart
Her breakfast  start of the day
 deeply cared for his way
He stumped over her honey
bunches of oats lips

The website
Go, Daddy acting love silly
The hot fun in the
International city
The UK that's OK
Mr. Bo Jangles spoiled deeply
*** in the City single
Deeply getting hurt
The Sin City

Did he see her progress
All over Twitter
He was so suited but lost
his tie twinkle tweets
Do I really live my life to dare
or deeply care?
I am ****** British give me
my English breakfast teas
for keeps
The King ain't got that swing
She acts too much like the Queen

The Royalty of love sanity
The heaping fine grain sugar spoon

(Duke of Earl gray) Deeply love Thee
But always came way too soon
She is the domestic cat going frantic

Great discoveries, and that's that
  Internships tug-cash or the hogwash
our colleagues  
The deep end "Crazy Eights
On the tenth physio natural
phenomena convent

All the Kingman no swords holding her
wrench
and knight horses unfortunate events
One day creation camel ride for miles
Reaching higher levels of toxins
and morons
Or teaching MLM  you asked for it
"The millionaire lost minds"

Were human TLC tender loving care
Like some playdough to the rooftop
Of Mentors, did they care
Who we deeply care about family
But more concerned
about the rise of money inventors
Even if life really *****
Oh! Fiddlesticks

The Moaning of life
Bring the Idiots aboard
The ***** of the night

He kinda ducks by the end of
your ***-light
Flex-body deeply cared for
Rumors and all philosophies
The shower like you was slashed
Left you bone dry without the cash
The thrill is gone your lovesick

She-devil  coffin red nails split Twilight zone

  The stars were in your corner
He deeply cared for you he was
your health kit
The Botanical Gardens

Like a figment of your imagination
Se demure you needed a
Florence Nightingale flower cure
To lift your depression to smile
You thought someone cared but all
misinterpretations

All misconceptions and misdemeanors
She takes so long putting on her
French lip glide Chanel liner
What could be ever cared for finer
Deeply digging holes like a miner

The solar rhythmic pointed finger
to the stars

So systematically
making a wish
just like everyone else
To plan your game
the game makes the plan
You deeply cared for delivery
Was I the care package

You weren't someone
just anybody like
A city dump garbage

Deeply wanting and waiting
So merely or rarely was it coming

Deeply seeing the next generation
The spectacular sunrise
White wicker twin set swing
Your heart pulls back but it was
so close to swinging forward
Moving towards your
accomplishments
The mess was all ****

"You have the exceptional mind like the beautiful mind"

People, you came across friends
Also, contributors  not the enemies
The country and the continents
Deeply cared for landmarks
The monuments how you love
her birthmark taking her hand

The Godly land such will command
moonwalker deeply cared for
All watered deep soul of lovers
The world of hands and
words became
such an impact

You felt like the creature so extinct
Things we deeply care about or no one doesn't understand our feeling we move or fly in all directions just to get the right affection
Left Foot Poet Mar 2017
She, my cutter,
my body, her cutting,
with tongue and finger nail,
any handy human implement,
she sculpts me to
her eye's configuring delight

she, grabs my wrist,
and my face
by her hands embraced,
unblemished once
now becomes scarred tissued,
no guise, no lies, no bearded mask,
no disguise -
all forsaken
hidden hardened skin,
speckled red/white translucent,
she kisses with adoration her
heart designed
objet d'art

no better blade than she,
with every cut,
transformed, she becomes
my devotee,
I, her escapee,
I am her, she is me,
inseparable, my every command,
she obeys


for our love cuts both ways
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
Twelve twelve Friday morn.
Soon bay breathe, hallelujah .
Nookery rebirthed..
Woke up on couch.
Haiku in my mouth. Uh oh.
Now to bed I go.


Thinking...Haiku escapes. Soon, I escape.
Elena Feb 2019
My eyes are slits
As my reflection is not familiar
— with her
But she has my attention
She is smoking from her ears
Her voice trembles
Her lips are thin lines in dry chaps
And her tone is well—
Seriously monotone

Like nails on a chalky stone
It sent violent shivers of discomfort
Up my spine
down again
This body
A zombie

I snapped back to my face of wasted time
She is an escapee from her own death
Her tone crosses me
Like a knife on my bone
In solemn droning
To the girl with bloodshot eyes
Though not from tears
But from bursting inside.
Hannah A May 2016
Take me out on a non realistic trip
detach me from my  inner self
when they threw me out on the island
I didn't miss my land
I didn't miss my people
I gazed on the freezing moon
I watched the boat coming and going
but I did not beg them to
take me back to the city
where the look in everyone's eyes
is just speaking of hatred
when you look into their eyes
and all you feel is hate from a person
maybe they aren't real
maybe I am not just what I think I am
if this isn't real then I'm just an idea
in someone else's brain
you don't get the feeling when you're trapped
you burn like fire in the deserts of Egypt
you crawl on your feet
crumble and fall like a stone
but you're nothing like a rolling stone
let the sun touch you until you sweat
let the forest's parasites live inside your hair
a meteor was crossing the sky
I looked into your eyes
and I saw the sparkles in your eyes
how it dilates slowly with the breeze.
Jessica Bennett Oct 2013
When I was three
And my mother brushed my hair
She parted it carefully
And braided it equally.
Two fat plaits
Hung as even as my stare.

When I was nine
And the hairbrush was my foe
Wild curls entwined
Personality defined.
Hair tangling
Faster than it could grow.

When I was fifteen
And hair hit the salon floor
I just wanted to be seen
So dyed it pink, blue and green.
Hair chopped short
Little girl no more.

Now I'm twenty-three
No longer in the nest
My parting is messy
And my braids escapee.
A hairy reminder
That mother knows best.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
Cusp

Once I wrote these words:

Place your ****** hands upon thy chest.
Let them melt thru and come to rest,
Inside, the battle ongoing, under thy breast.
Watch, eyes open, knowing, fearful.
Swiftly, with no hesitation, from within,
Rip open your body, exhaling the best,
And the worst of what you got.

The cool air rushes in,
Stirring the inside stew of:
Infected grime, shameful desires,
Secrets that should not have been exposed,
The ***** stuff of about your life
that you alone know exists.

Contact with the atmosphere makes
Self-pity dies, blue blood turn red,
The TNT tightness explodes,
Ashamed, you have only one escape hatch.

Now, you are ready to write.

(http://hellopoetry.com/poem/now-you-are-ready-to-write/)

so here I am, hands on my chest,
so unready, incapable of writing,

the battle site changed,
sledding to the top of my head,
moved northwards, mush, mush.

just don't have what's required
to melt that mush open,
just don't have the anymore
to finish this Iditarod race
called my Idiot life.

nobody knows the silences
kept in my treasure box.
nobody knows the nail-beds
slept, bloodied, by this
mthrfking depression,
unexpectedly returned to sender,
unable now,
to write, free and clear.

suffused, this words reappears,
you don't get it, the twilight twinkies
below laughing, twinkling,
middle ******* me,
so not suffused,
nah nah nah nah
you don't got it,
you got nothing.

the words supply, torn and  tired
reappears, now escapee prisoners
before flatlining, crashing
as I am currently 20,000 feet over
somewhere above the Eastern Seaboard;

we may land smooth,
but not in any groove
that fits me anymore.

Here's the sorest, sorriest laugh,
what you are about to read
was eons ago born, and today
birthed.

Happy M.F'ing  Birthday #0
don't even, can't complain fresh,
reusing unused words that never got
devoured, so now, used up too,
like me.

cut by thicket's branches
(that in their defense, maim only to self-protect)
calluses of experience
not enough to survive
what is now needed,
new chapters required.

choruses of repetitive choirs fresh,
inspire but land on surfaces
heart-hardened by fear contagion.

who will know and
who will care and who
will make them all go away,
but me...

so touch my self,  
reminder to self is emailed,
beat the odds so man-many times,
one more time, what's the big deal?


fresh differences,
maybe,

words that are new
not in my vocabulary,
maybe.

Struggle, long lived,
is the status quo,
** **, don't you know,
nobody tole ya?

world's axis is tilted
you can fall off
a familiar horse,
get off course,
so east easy
a gravitational force so subtle,
clueless you're drowning
till the riptide
has liberated your
pockets possessions,
pathetic borrowings
of unoriginal thoughts
you thought you actually owned!
now you realize
new inspirational how to books
keep getting writ,
published for experienced suckers
like you.

so here at the pointed cusp
a crescent shaped tangent,
lines crossed, intersection of a curveball
turning inwards, retracing prior paths,
familiar but tho the forecasts predict
being on the cusp of something,
crystal ball reveals nothing at all.

I fold the little have learned
into a handkerchief
folded three times over,
tied cusp to cusp
with a trefoil knot,
which while
mathematically correct,  
is too easy as my hanky is almost empty
and hobo heart journey scary is thinking
done.
Cusp:

point, apex: as
a :  a point of transition (as from one historical period to the next) :  
turning point; also :  edge, verge
b :  either horn of a crescent moon
c :  a fixed point on a mathematical curve at which a point tracing the curve would exactly reverse its direction of motion
d :  an ornamental pointed projection formed by or arising from the intersection of two arcs or foils
e (1) :  a point on the grinding surface of a tooth (2) :  a fold or flap of a cardiac valve
Becka Traite Feb 2010
running jumping
mewing occasionally

always begging for attention
always begging for a treat

a furry ball of cuteness
warm and playful
my handsome little man

my baby

sleeping on your back
snoring and twitching

my amusement
my love

fetching your favorite toy like a dog
chirping like a bird

an attention-grabbing-kitty-**** when guests arrive
an attempted escapee when then leave

poofy tail
expressive as always

I know you want me to play with you now.
There’s no escape,
from my pain, trouble and sorrows;
yet I’m not concerned about them,
for You Lord, await me in tomorrow.

There’s no escape,
for You my Lord, are everywhere,
knowing Your omnipresent trait;
with You, my life, I gladly share.

There’s no escape,
for You have searched the depths
of my being, soul, existence
and my inward, spiritual breadth.

There’s no escape,
for You can see me in the darkness,
as though I was in sunny daylight;
keep me far from evil wickedness.

There’s no escape
and I have no desire to flee;
wherever I go, You’re there;
so I could never be… an escapee.
.
.
.
Author Note

Inspired by:
Psa 139

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
chimaera Nov 2014
I take my pencil
and draw two lines,
two points of escape
into the horizon line.

I draw a road
to walk through
the white blindness
of time.

I picture myself
on the road,
two points of leakage
behind, to drain the void.

Happily I get lost,
in the round bend of the road,
and become a hobo
in a new found equator.
5.11.2014
Samuel Apr 2013
dreams as validation for smooth
     rhythmic notions cascading like
              fingers, waterfalls slipped from
          tongues laced with crisp sheets
  
  (the ivory ladders fallen sideways and
    forgotten in the wake of racing hearts)

            slow down, reconvene behind mirrored
          aspiration, compose stars that pulse with each
             ache for your company, flicker to the pace of
                   water running, an escapee from the space of
                 world around you conformed, blanketed
                        sleep like a waterwheel
minds crazy
again confusing

love

for broken bones,
all night we ask

for help, who
comes?  you

sway to bird
and saxaphone

rejoice at
near-miss

rescue

escapee, we
tried to give you

baskets
of reasons

not to love us unconditionally
but you love us unconditionally

so we sleep
in the hand
of the sky
she sprints through the grass,
where the blades won't harass,

the gentle wheat crops against her skin
running fast, they tickle her shin.

galloping, chasing, like a gazelle,
rays of sun caress, enchanting dark skin with spell.

curvaceous body with no care,
lovely lady, as free as her hair.

she grabs at the violets, press to her face,
indestructible woman, found her place.

jiggling, wobbling, dancing with joy,
this here woman, life is her toy.

she moulds it and holds it as she changes to sprint,
the sadness in here bares no hint.

curly hair, heritage rich,
this bird here, unpicked every stitch.

she stops, she stops, at the edge,
scrambles scrambles stopping before ledge.

jiggling juggling, in the ****,
she dances around, no want to intrude.

escapee, escapee, that's what she's become,
and oh now, she feels like the only one.

boundless beauty, encased with dark lattice scars,
her body contains a bounty of stars.

no shape can hold her,
no one can tame, encase,
no hands can hold her,
more valuable than lace.
Annie Feb 2017
Once upon a thyme
In an herbed house
Their lived a witch
Whose ripe rampion
Was so overpowering
That the neighbors
Left bottles of febreeze
On her doorstep.

The witch didn’t care
- But
In the flat-ironed town
Of Lunch time lipo
Where you were defined
By your eating disorder
She looked like
An Omish escapee
With hips that wriggled
And ******* that jiggled

So her cell phone number
Wasn’t in anyone’s top five
-Except
For one confused neighbor
Who never made it to college
And got to experiment
Like a true Gemini.

Now imagine the witch’s surprise
When this neighbor confides
That she would love to eat
Her ripe rampion.
- Naturally
The witch agreed.
It was nice to have something
That somebody else wanted
Though it was exhausting
For the neighbor
Who munched day and night.

And if one surprise
Wasn’t enough
The witch discovered that her
Neighbor was pregnant.
Now the witch had many powers
But that wasn’t one of them.
It appeared that her neighbor
Found her husbands
Carrot patch to
Quite esculent also.

And the witch
Being a picky Virgo
With a jealous Scorpion moon
Thought that her neighbor
Should not
Have spun around the vegetable
Color wheel quite so fast
And so in a fit of temper
She stole her baby
And locked her away
In an ivory tower.

Initially everything worked out
Until the oil crisis
And then the witch couldn’t
Visit Rapunzel quite as often
As she would have liked
Not with gasoline
Being so expensive
And so Rapunzel became bored
And started chatting to
Prince charming
On her face-book wall.

The witch took all the hopeful Trojans
That the prince had left
On previous visits
And tied them together
To form a rubbery step ladder
And when she heard him shout
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel…let down your hair!"
She threw this at him…angling it
With just a little thread of hate.

Prince charming grew all shivery
And put on his worst
Austin powers "Oh behave" accent
Thinking of the delights
That awaited him

However, his shivery-ness
Soon became a full body tremor
When the witch met him
On the top rung
And he knew quick enough
This wasn’t a
Ménage à trois.

The prince spent many months
In traction
Recuperating from his fall.
Rapunzel was sent off
To boarding school.
And as for the witch…
She dropped twenty pounds
And got her own reality show
*Housewives of Salem county.
Xan Abyss Apr 2017
Panasoffkee, Florida
Dressed in green and gold
Strangled with a 36 belt
Her corpse a whole month old

Rotting beneath the water
Nobody knew her body
Paul John Knowles
Was out on parole,
Could he be the killer at fault here?

Who was Miss Panasoffkee?
What happened to Constantina?
Found submerged in a river
Nameless and missing forever

Could she be an escapee, a runaway from Greece?
Fleeing her cruel husband as a romantic refugee?
Perhaps the world will never know
Perhaps we'll never see
Who the real identity may be
of Miss Lake Panasoffkee
Based on a 40+ year old cold case.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
If you asked if I would skinny dip
You would have hit it on the nose.
But that was back when I was still
Rather attractive without clothes.
Now I don’t go around naked
As long as it is in my power.
I’ve gotten so fat and wrinkly
I wear ****** even in the shower.

I’m not kidding around a bit
When I talk about this aging stuff.
I not only don’t look so ****
When I walk around in the buff,
There are certain types of clothes
I do much better to avoid wearing;
Me in sweat pants or leggings
Is not a sight I enjoy sharing.

I’ve begun to look a bit like
Laundry that is not quite dry.
I’m not much surprised by this
Because I understand why.
I have been around a long time
And have enjoyed my ice cream
But it makes one into a pudding
And makes other people scream.

It’s just not a good idea these days
To show of what time has done.
There are such things as hotties
But I know for sure I am not one.
You know those Botox babies
You see on the Hallmark Channel?
Notice how they don’t look like
Their faces are made of flannel?

Well, I’m not into all that stuff,
That reconstructive surgery.
I don’t expect to look today
Like an escapee from a nursery.
I just make wardrobe choices well
Bearing my current self in mind.
I look upon some of it as wise
And some of it as me being kind.
JK Cabresos Oct 2011
I am in penury; exhausted from these burdens of life,
Forever a loser? For I have never won yet a price.
I will not wrangle, I let them stoop at me so low
And I accept this discernment, for I have nothing to lose.

I do not have buoyancy to stay afloat in waters,
Scarcity of respect? Well, I am just nobody from nowhere
And I do not have puissance to climb any highest peak,
Also, pity words for them, for this tongue to be a speech.

Years were gone, still I cannot be an escapee for this maze,
Always in the midst of dimness since I have seen my face,
But I dream for that flare which will illuminate the pains,
With this persistence I own, I will search for it again.

I am nobody, and I am from nowhere, but I am me;
Being a stoic may not heal the wounds but can cool the flame.
If someday, people will glance at me standing on the top,
Hope to find not only that richness, but also that peace and love.
© 2011
prim' Nov 14
Demons fight in the wilderness wide
They attack you from behind
And I loved to fool myself
About sparring with them

Truth lies with the moss
Covering the sword that never saw a fight
After I fled to hide behind the field
Where far further I yield

There sits rocks that plays the part of walls
protecting and sheltering me
My back down on a callous mattress
My eyes up on a clouded night

This is where I lie
About not fighting it's demon
There’s no point in going to bed
Or closing the shutters on my eyes
Because I believe that sleep is for the dead
And rest I don’t prioritize

There is no American noise
When everyone else is quietly slumbering
One of my favorite parts about three AM
Is peace and tranquil wondering

My brain is like a pair of eyes
And the optometrist is changing the lens
Conjectures and notions are out of focus
Here and there and back again

My mind is an untuned radio
Thoughts, an endless garble of static
I’m swimming in between the airwaves
And my body functions are automatic

Languor sometimes hits me
Like a wave crashing on a shore
But soon enough it has dissipated
As if it was never there before

Count the circles ‘round my eyes
Like the rings on an ancient tree
How many sleepless nights am I at now?
Because melatonin is an escapee.

My spirit is miles and miles away
Wandering where it wants to
If only someone would bring it back
Since sleep is long past overdue.
I wrote this to perform in a poetry cafe, and it focuses on my insomniac tendencies. It's partly inspired by the Insomniac Green Day album. See if you can spot my references! :)
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
<•>

Preface
___

early Sunday morning her head, half pillowed, half my-chested, in the shady, darkened room with just enough entering daylight to clarify the assortment of miscellanea you are mind visualizing, ordering...it's the exact time when the disguised passing thoughts traverse mixed in with the ordinary of the day ahead, the day passed, your passionate emails, that require complete, non-hasty, contemplative answering, the onerous chores, the pretend-someday-additions to the reading list, the running time for the my little pony movie (wasn't awful), the chances we will be a football team with an 0-5 record (we are) at the end of the day when god ******, well lit,
it sly sneaks in,

I write for women

auditioning as a possible poem title
and just to be sure, it performs a singing audition, we hear it loud and clear, as it snaps fingers and makes Pandora play:
"Your love keeps lifting me higher
Than I ever been lifted before,
So give me love, Which is my desire"

caught, exposed, *******, brain chiming, nails chewing, cylinders firing, pas de choix, and it's now my fingers turn, not to snap,
but to obediently tap
the truth about me, man

10/9-17 8:29am

<•>

I write for women (give yourself away)

alternating currents, one electrical impulse sparkling sparking
to prove I am among the living, and that the engine, yet revving, the beating, the heart toe-tapping, and the next,
is an explication explosion for each and everyone, for you, just, you,
why, I write, for women, for to give myself away

please say your name out loud
right now, right here, don't process, proceed, if you can't...
then
répète après moi,
"he writes for me and no one else"

it is not sorrowful but it could be,
it is simple words but not simple in the slightest,
for constantly falling is a ******* the soulfulness,
hard, too, is in the re-collecting the absences, the aloneness,
even as hard as the opposite, the constant awrying of the daily plan when so much bountiful beautiful
makes an ordinary crazy extravagant delightful,
so so necessary, so **** elemental - it is true oxygen of sustaining,
so necessary to be beyond

to write that every moment is a possession (yours) would be an
understatement, even wrong...for I am a molecular composite of your mystique mystery, each time i am writing-returning  
one bone chip excised as an accounting, the untainted marrow where-the-will-from-where-I-came from, which is from you,
one birth mother,
but so many names many origins all one cell subdivided

each livre is an escapee, a de-lightening runaway, of me,
and in the emptying is my creating
a happy self conception
a Benjamin Button reversal, as was intended

this is the hardest poem I have written in my abbreviating
years, but if not now, when?
I hand-wring cause
I cannot successfully explain well enough the
why

easy understood, why and try rhyme so naturally

I will once more walk the city streets, each espied
a dream mind-see to connect,
distributor to each of an odd shaped token,
a failed self-explanatory thank you for existing,
no whys or wherefores,be given-out  
regardless of creed, color and age,
but not ***, for absolutely this is all about ***,
repaying the grieving and the believing.
the obligation
the happy diminishment
Dark Delusion Aug 2016
You with the sweet smile.
Looking anywhere but at me.
Wanting to meet your eyes just for a while.
Your eyes is always the escapee.

Your words are cutting deep in my flesh.
Your voice is surrounding me.
My tears of pure blood is fresh.
I didn’t want to see your reality.

You with the cruel smile.
Looking directly at me.
I never want to look in your eyes of hostile.
Your emotionless eyes makes me flee.

Looking deep into my soul.
Telling all the lies.
I no longer have control.
Of those cold eyes.
Little Ghost Mar 2014
i just realized that i will be doing this for years
this cycle makes me sick and i can't escapee
there are countless more days to sit through
countless more days exactly like this one
and what will i do once i've lived through them all?
and what will i go on to do?
there is the potential to get caught in another trap
at first i'll want it in the same way that i wanted this
but then i'll find that it's the same thing all over again
it could be just another misery
just another whirlpool
and i'm not sure i want to go on to find out
but there is the possibility of an adventure
which is what is keeping me going at this point
i am gambling and the odds are against me
but i still insist on playing this endless game
i wrote in physics class. i got scared.
Jordan A Duncan May 2015
The Strid, at ground level, seems
A calm stream. A peaceful bath.
None foresee being swept into
My roaring depths, trapped under current and crag

I want to merit photographs, but
I am midday with overcast skies
The light isn’t quite right, the
Scenery you see seems trashed

I picture myself behind the wheel of
The steel frame of a 1967 Chevy Impala. Black and
Worn down from its time in domesticity
Its escapee driving fast, kicking up dust, so
He can never look back
Praying the engine doesn’t clunk or thrash

My heart is the library of Alexandria
Endless tomes taken from open trade
Open to few, elites within not knowing they’re kindling
An empire of knowledge gone to waste in
A night of passion and fire

My mind lives in Constantinople
Unbroken walls build in fear of failure
I am the fire in that city, uncontrolled
I consume myself from within, and
My walls crumble
Prized relics of pride swiftly settle
Kicking up dust at the bottom of the river
The bosun yells “man overboard!”
Too late; they’re trapped
Under current and crag.
This was me trying to be surreal. Instructor told me to describe myself without abstractions as an exercise.
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
just today, i was walking past a house, where someone was
trying to "encourage" an "alcatraz" escapee
back into the home & abode...
      but as i walked past, and turned around...
its pupils were glaring back at me... yellow...
    seeing without a camera lens.

anyway, i remember times, maybe before the digital
way of encoding photographs,
   that on a rare occasion, in a photograph,
your pupils would turn red...
      
                   perhaps due to dilation, and the idea
of the dark room being morbid omni-red...
                              you can't encourage cats to do what
you want them to do... you might put a collar on a cat,
but you can't exactly attach a leash to that collar...
               it would be like telling a gorilla:
grow some testicles on your head!

                       but yeah... yellow pupils of a cat without
taking a photograph, and the once upon a time
red pupils of peoples' eyes in photographs...
   cat's yellow pupils in the night.

   right now? this is a digression by the way...
     i'm thinking of innovating egg-fried rice...
cook the rice... fry an egg... jumble the two together,
and add some bits & bobs to the mixture...
   soya sauce.... and sweet chili sauce...
                       i'm scheming up a recipe for a mongol...

        i'd love to see a cat with an american spy in
a soviet museum... sleep deprived...
                 just a "thought" experiment...
                     it would probably equate to seeing idiotic
people making cats ingest l.s.d. tabs in america
    that were once available online...
      ubran myths these days, i'm afraid...
                          well, you know... people have their kicks
and pleasures...
                         the only people i have respect for
are the people i'd sit down and eat some food with.
respect and people i'd drink with?
            i'm a lone wolf in that respect...
                     i prefer my own company when drinking
a liter of ***, and trying to think up some bonkers recipe on the sly.
              oh... the wolfish hunger recipe?
   add 3 pieces of rye bread with some butter, just before falling asleep...
   next day?
                          a **** that comes out of your ***
                             like a knife cutting through butter.
Keith J Collard Aug 2012
If I ever devote my love,
to a fellow devotee,
will be my escape of Forest,
where I was her escapee.
Matt Jun 2015
Dave,
My husband and I were traveling from Louisiana to Dallas, TX.  Saturday. on Interstate 20 westbound.  We passed a convoy of military vehicles on the Interstate headed towards Dallas.  Also,  in an area in which traffic had come to almost a complete stop because of road construction, over to the south of I-20, my husband and I spotted 3 white helicopters hovering in a triangular formation over an open field for over 10 minutes.  Traffic was barely moving for a long time and the helicopters never moved, just hovered.  Also,  someone on Facebook traveling on I-20 in Louisiana today posted a video of UN ambulances being transported in which the UN logo had been taped over on all the vehicles but, on one door the covering had blown loose and you could clearly see the UN logo.  I am praying for the people of Texas and Louisiana to wake up to what is going on especially with these false flag events like prisoner escapee and house to house searches in Texas to gather data about what is in the homes more than likely.  Texas is under attack and now, ironically, the tropical storm system in the Gulf which was originally predicted to head our way in Louisiana at the gulf, has turned and is now going straight through the heart of Texas where they have already had major flooding going on.  Please pray for our nation!!

Ronelle Ford
Shreveport/Bossier Louisiana
tc Jan 2017
it's a melancholy sadness and it grips hold of my joints with steel chains and i am bolted
bound to internal torment like a sadist playing sadist tricks oh i am bemused
wrap me in cotton wool and sing to me
nursery rhymes or tragic blackened symphonies
melancholy melodies / mad and misused
play the piano on my ribcage and sing your sadist tunes
this little rib went crack crack crack
everything in the room faded to black, black, black
what a bitter hymn oh and there is nothing holy about this
beetroot is red because you beat the root of me dead so tell me
where is your god?
i think i set him on fire with the acid in my chest
my blood is scathing / possessed
i drew a cross on his forehead with what i had left
monsters are manufactured; a product, you see
a deformed social escapee
non-conformist unmoral idiosyncrasies

laboratory rats

setting the world on fire with gasoline and dynamite
study the ill mind of a structureless parasite
understand that monsters are manufactured,
and they were once
just like you
THEY'RE EVERYWHERE
Anais Vionet Jun 2021
Oh, you swamp me with charm - get out of my head.
There’s something about you - a warmth - like the comfort of home - that pulls at me.

I study your landscape of attractive surfaces like a star chart - logging my weaknesses - to strengthen my emotional firewall. I WANT you but my “wants” just seem untrustworthy after recent deprivations.

To be honest - I can’t afford you - not now. You’re a delicious pastry - with strings - and I need to cut all my strings.

You’re something younger me would have wanted - before the pandemic, when scandalous thinking was uncomplicated and freedoms taken for granted.

Last year simplified my reality.

Over time, boredom melted me like wax but a new me crossed some threshold of certainty - that to flourish - no, just to survive - I must become more than I am, or find I’m less than I hoped.

In 2019 goals seemed way, way someday things - far off reference points to seek out - like an inchworm. Social details occupied me like an unfocused dementia - there was an unacceptable level of childish thinking.

But now I’m an escapee on the run who won’t be taken back alive. Old attachments must be stripped down and the old world made disposable - if I’m to achieve escape velocity.
2021 - my year for post-pandemic escape  =]
Mark Lecuona Jul 2012
One day I’m going to do it
I’m going to be truly free
I may be too old to even know
But in my mind I will see
I will see everything I ever believed
And I wonder if I will laugh or cry
Because I will be what I never was
And I will know how it is to not know why
I like to flash forward and over-expose my dream
I want to see what a distorted world it might be
In each frame the truth and the fiction alternate
As it speeds up you’ll not know if it’s you or if it’s me
I can think of every mass I ever attended
And how my Father made me stand straight
Or I can think about how stupid I was
When I told someone about their coming fate
But an old man who embarrasses his children
Is not something to aspire to become
But how can I avenge myself against those who I slaved for
If I don’t grow a beard and drink too much ***?
I want a statue on the shore of every eroded dream
I want one facing the north, the west and to the east
But ne’er the south for that is which way the wind came
A freeman must point to that which he knows least
Oh what exaggeration could I tell as the film snaps in my mind?
What words other than these in my hand could shock and awe?
How telling to desire the odd look of bemused judgment from another
For to not care of anyone or anything is the mark of freedom’s call
Yes freedom… and yet how many cannot accept a free man?
How many wish to tell me exactly what I should say, do or wear?
Can a man imprisoned in his own mind lock the door to mine?
Can an escapee be held by someone armed with mere prayer?
In what natural state of light flickered by God’s whims must I seek?
For the reel to reel that comes to my dreams can only be spliced by hope
And even if tomorrow which is all I live for never arrives
I already know what I want to be is what I am as I remove society’s rope
robert schlanker was an 11 year boy who was a bit different from the other kids

you see he was a nice kid and he was very clean-cut, most of the kids who wanted

to be his friend said he was shy, because they didn’t want him to meet mr long stocking

who wanted to tie robert up with his stocking and treat him like an animal in a cage, a very rusty cage

and one of long stockings mtes harry burns stole his wallet from his pocket and stole all his money

and lead him feeling like an animal, but meanwhile robert was playing with his friends and the kids

were trying to protect him from this turning kids into animals game, well they didn’t turn them into animals as such

they just were attempting to tie thm up and lock them in a cage, and the first step, was the attempt to make robert

feel that nobody wants to do him harm, until one day there will be a s showdown where they grab all his best friends

and tie them to the light pole, days and days went by when robert was mucking around with his mate pete, and

they camped out in the backyard together as well as go to football games together and even joined the local football team

where robert fit in very well and the crowd had a cheer they gave robert when he scored his many tries, it goes like this

rob rob our boy named rob

it’s great that this footy team is your job

minutes go quick between each try

you see rober you are our hero

and that’s no lie

and once or twice robert would jump over the fence and cheer with these people saying,

yeah mate yeah mate yeah mate yeah

i am in a side called the bears

i can give a piece of my luck to you, if you can spare

yeah mate yeah mate yeah mate yeah

and robert felt protected in with his mates and he and his mates were having fun, yeah fun, what you have when you are having a good time

and then noel harrison a prison escapee from the prison, locked away for luring kids into his home where he plans to treat them like animals and

noel sat in the shopping mall watching robert happily playing as well as teasing him and yelling at hi not letting slip what he is doing, you see he was

a friend of roberts family when robert was 8 and according to them noel can do no wrong and yes noel was really helping robert find his mojo

like arranging a whole lot of fun events to very slowly squeeze the fun loving sports loving family guy out of him without making him feel he was doing that

and noel visited roberts family quite a few times just to make sure robert wasn’t trying to be a family person, and robert and noel had small fights, where noel

got his beer and said funny little kid funny little kid funny little kid, you are a burning hot kid, and i want your blood, robert said what does that mean dude

and noel said how about we change the subject and robert ran to his room in a huff and noel said yeh, sweeeeet  he is a hooligan anyway and roberts parents

were unaware of what noel was doing, and each day they went about meeting noel going to work and dropping robert at his friends houses and sports events

and years and years went by, with robert and his parents socialising with roberts parents till one day at the very moment whe robert turned 18, noel knew that

robert liked the choirboys, so yeah he did get the choirboys to actually come, but what robert does;t know, noel will be there to lure robert away from his friends but

noel has to work quick, first he has to actually meet robert and his mates and offer to drive robert, just robert home and then the torture will begin, but robert’s dad

said, i will give you a lift there and home, so you will be safe, and robert said fine, unaware of noel’s plan, and on the night of the choir boys robert’s dad brought

robert there and said, text me, when it’s over and when robert went into the bar he saw his mates and headed over to them and they danced to run to paradse

and boys will be boys and struggle town and robert was having so much fun getting really drunk on beer and then robert felt like another beer and that’s where

he bumped into noel, who said, i will buy you a drink and without robert knowing about it, noel dissolved 3 tablets of ice into robert’s drink, so noel can get what

he wants tonight, and robert took his drink back to his mates and partied like ****** crazy and while noel was watching the band he text roberts father saying

he is at the concert and will take robert home but at the end of the concert, robert said goodbye to his mates and went over to the cab area to ring hid dad but

the ICE made robert walked right into noel, noel bashed robert over the head when robert awoke he was chained up in a rabbit’s cage, with a very strong padlock

and the first few days was humanly but after 6 weeks, robert was starting to act like an animal, because of the ICE, jumping up one side of the cage and then

the other side and he was fed chicken bones and dog food, and robert had to eat or he will be whipped by the black hooded noel, robert was unaware that he was noel

and weeks and weeks and years and years went by where robert was jumping up in his cage and robert’s parents called the police and even did mercy dashes to

try and catch robert’s abductor and in about 3 weeks, noel decided to ring robert’s parents saying, robert was an animal at the choir boys concert so i said don’t text

your daddy, just walk home and then i saw robert passed out in the drain, and i rushed him to the hospital and he didn’t make it and then noel hung up on robert’s parents

and went outside to reveal himself and robert wasn’t sure who noel was as he was made to look like an animal, and noel said you are with me now robert

and i told your parents your dead, cause robert, i planned your life, i plannec those kids cheering you on and i planned the concert too, i planned you meeting

up with mates camping in your parents backyard and now, i am planning that you will be ab animal till the day you die, and robert, uncle noel will **** you at midnight

and then robert’s friends after being at a fake memorial were very distraught about robert’s kidnapping ****** and decided to piece this puzzle and the first thing they

did was go to the hospital and say, do you remember a boy dying from lying in a ditch and they said, that breaks doctor patient confidentiality but after a few weeks the

nurse who said that to the youngsters said, according our files robert is still alive, so whatever the reason why you had a memorial for him, i don’t have a clue and

robert’s friends went back to roberts parents and said robert is still alive according to the hospital and who told you he was dead and robert’s father said just a friend and decided

to piece together the map to find out what really happened to his son, as robert was eating chicken bones and dog food and then robert got very angry every time he saw noel

and said LET ME OUT, YOU FUCKEN ****, but in a whiny dull voice and noel was getting his way with the schlanker family and then mr schlanker rang noel up and something felt

weird about noel’s voice and robert’s father said, IF YOU HAVE ROBERT, GIVE YOURSELF UP, OK and noel said no way buddy and hung up the phone grabbed the animal like robert

and took off to the sea, where robert would be thrown to the sharks but the police caught up with noel and robert was rescued and noel was put back in prison and the robert and

his parents really were upset for what noel did to their family and robert went to the hospital and after 4 hours died in their care while robert’s parents went back to their home and

cleaned out robert’s bedroom and after hearing robert passing away on the radio, noel said, my work here is done heh heh heh and noel was given life inprisonment and robert’s parents

were very sad that their only child is dead but they have to move on, in 5 years robert’s parents got a divorce, and went their separate ways and robert’s farher was a lonely old man living in adelaide

while robert’s mother married brian allan, the famous internet writer and he had 3 girls, and lived as happy as she can be after her terrible ordeal with losing robert.

the end
Wanderer Mar 2012
He was always a little strange
Starstruck by his inability to interact with the majority
Blank walls became a canvas
Endless sand dunes
Soaring mountain tops
Became his paradise
An escapee from a pesticide reality
They don't exist out here
Saturating the night with lyrical cursive
A sirens song to those lost at sea
Far removed himself from corporate greed
Even though what an amazing lawyer, under the devil's wing
He could have been
Not all those that wander
Find their way home
Reaching out to brush fingertips over the softness of memory
His thoughts fade into the vast night of oblivion
Seeking refuge and inspiration
Rhianecdote Apr 2015
I'm Lost amongst the Lost
Surrounded by the dumbfounded
Asking for direction but no one knows the way
Trying to focus in an intoxicated state
Scrambling through the crowds
To find a way out instead of through
Drifting further and further away
from the truth
Growing aloof and resentful
Sticking with the stuck
At a standstill
I choose to stand still
STOP
And stare at these people all over the place
These all over the place people
Going 100 miles per hour
But heading nowhere fast
Close eyes
And realise that this way of life ain't for me
Trapped in a vat of social distraction
Too long stuck on repeat
Tired by the tedium
I harbour some eMotion
Sidestep the commotion
But unlike so many
I'm no Escapee...

**I just aim to Break Free
So I can get back to being Me
I hope one day soon to find the balance between being sociable and focused. I think it really depends on the people you surround yourself with and if the company you keep help you to grow and progress. I'm surrounded by a lot of loveable yet apathetic and lost people at this moment in time that I'm sure are destined for better things if only they'd get started (me included lol) sometimes you just gotta break off and do your own thang rather than get caught up in it all. I reached that point quite some time ago now, procrastination just isn't an option anymore.
Arjun Tyagi Aug 2015
Legs entwined break free,
As Sol beckoned over Korik Hill.
Their stomachs still warm,
With last night's ****.

Dusty flecks played like,
A million shards of garnet.
Watching over her head,
In beams of light, russet.

Unwilling to break
Meek, fleeting dreams,
He closed all space, between
Them were no seams.

Ruefully she moved,
Even in slumber.
One cannot erase,
The skin of a lover.

'Agaroth'
Whispered moan, from bit lips.
'Namna', his head on
Her ***** is where happiness is.

'We should go'
Said she, as Solara rose.
The sky warm with both,
Under two suns, they awoke.

--

A scraggy shore,
Rocks, lichen and moss.
Lake of silence,
No sound would cross

Twas her kingdom,
Her Majesty a thousandfold.
Within walls of green,
Ochre, yellow and gold.

She stood waist deep,
Soft back to him, a statue.
As she overlooked the fishes
Passing by in a hundred hues.

Bathing in rainbows,
Her form bare, open.
A liquid pearl glowing,
In an endless ocean.

Soon she emerged,
Onto the heavy bank.
His arms covering her modesty,
His honour in her hands.

--

Solum now emerged,
The wind cool on bent figures.
Harvest of their fruit,
This year was bigger.

Mud stained bodies,
In sound of labor.
As both pulled fruit and flower,
Of ethereal flavors.

He plucked one,
A plump pompous citric.
Tasted the fruit slowly,
It's effect electric.

An offer made to her,
Politely subdued.
Held his hands,
Expression bemused.

'Come here' beckoned Namna,
Agaroth obeyed.
The fruit she tasted,
Was from his mouth that day.

Violet stained her neck,
Godly juice.
He tasted just enough,
Skin and fruit suffused.

--

Solara began her descent,
The sky, blood on topaz.
Cool though it happened to be,
The wind was sad.

Under the shadow of
The siblings, Solum and Sol,
Sat a fire now hungry,
Devouring mushrooms and stalk.

Warm, Namna spoke of home,
To him, a child before her.
Eyes wide, he waited,
For her words, to devour.

'It was beautiful', she told him,
Of the lands and seas and crests.
Of Men, Machine and
Many Deaths.

--

Her voice was nectar,
Soon he drifted in a haze.
Sweet, soft and dear,
Lying still in her gaze.

He dreamed of that night,
Invaded by the SkyFolk.
The night of her arrival,
Amidst a sea of iron and smoke.

Thirty and two times
The Sun siblings had since,
Risen and fallen with them,
As they shared their sins.

He had discovered,
She spoke, a delight.
But not his tongue,
To his surprise.

She was built as him,
But he could see.
The difference twixt;
The Man and Goddess clearly.

Sole inhabitant of a far
Cosmic reduce unwanted.
A wish he never thought of,
Here, before him, granted.

He came to, and,
Looked at her firelit face.
Spoke of love in his tongue,
As he watched her drift into space.

--

Lunox presently hung,
Suspended, a pyramid.
And before it reached its peak,
The world was silverlit.

A glorious change,
To the world, this light.
Somber companionship,
Would last through the night.

Gentle nudges brought,
Namna to him.
He signaled at the moon,
Which was now moving.

Faceted at impossible
Edges, Lunox spat color.
Iridescent, layered,
Their world in a fervor.

Her eyes studied him
A gem in nocturnal light.
Ruby, emerald, sapphire,
Blazing dark and bright.

Star painted, they
Walked home together.
Her hand in his own,
Light as a feather.

--

Deep, internal hum,
Escaped from her, loud
As he kissed her lips,
The ones not on her mouth.

His hair clutched,
Tangled in her fingers.
Pulling him inwards,
Many feelings triggered.

Rose over the valley,
Of shy legs.
His head beside hers,
Their waists connect.

All of Agaroth
Pulsing, yearning.
Inside Namna,
Inside her fire, burning.

Warmer than the Suns,
Cooler than the lake.
Sweet, ignorant and in peace
Love they did make.

Furs sprawled,
The sheets in a mess.
The other's skin was their
Only dress.

--

On a small bed,
In a small room.
They talked of life,
Of despair and doom.

Each simply speaking,
Not mindful of comprehension.
When touch is louder than voice,
No bar rests on communication.

Much comfort there was,
In time they discovered.
In sharing a life,
Over the galaxy, scattered.

Escapee from,
a dying Earth.
Inhabitant of,
A deceased world.

A longing for what is,
Now gone past.
Traces of two souls,
Here in Xalta shall last.

Of all cosmic variables,
The most improbable.
Yet brought together,
In an interstellar fable.

--

— The End —