White fairies, glide and sparkle.
Shimmering in beaming street lights, dismembered by howling wind.

i say awe

                            and i say wonder

      i say whole mountains

o' fairies and clouds

  i say magic sprouting
between fingers splayed
o'er hot skin sweating
beads of sweating
little snaking streams of sweating

i sweet and kiss them
i tousle and drink them
i drink day and night
i drink fire and dirt
i'm their body

so darling dear
(dear darling so
sweating dear)
let me sprinkle you
beauty (i'll grow
a forest o' lips on
your *******)with
glitter and health

i'll stoke you purr gently
stroking dear i'll **** you
with me i'll just make y o   u,
                                              '
                                                    ,

                                        .

your words muddle together like a horribley woven web of broken promises.
but I know the power of words, I am a poet.
Your colloquy is irregular and nonsensical.
your mind can not put together one and two since the cancer knocked him out.
but that does not give you the golden pass to be a trainwreck, with your moods like a train.
stand up for yourself and get your head out of that deep rabbit hole you've stupidly been digging for too long.
help me love life and look foward to my future, instead of stating what is best for me.
strangers walking by have given me more hope in a single conversation than you have.
maybe me wanting to be a hostess is my literal way of flying from the nest, but i'm not afraid to jump.
I'm eager to blindly jump, possibly fall, scrape my hands and keep on going.
I look foward to the day that my flight lands and I will be in a foreign hotel room all by myself.
The true problem I believe is that I am okay with being alone, sometimes all the time.
Never have I found that one person where I would truely be sad to be away from all the long day and night.
There is my true problem.
I do not get close to people in fear that I will become attached and then it will make me crazy when they are not near.
I harden my heart and hurt myself instead of others.
I know how it feels to get slashed down by the saber of rejection or desertion, so why would I ever force that upon another?
I am alone in this world and I am content.
Not happy about it nor am I sad, simply content with what is always going to be.
Do not get me wrong, I do feel emotions, I am not a robot.
I have times varying from complete happiness to absolute blubbering depression.
But other than that I am in a neutral zone of numbness.
both mind and body, completely numb.
My body goes into a sort of hibernation of its own.
where my mind is speeding up but the functions of my body start to slow and fade away.
My life is stuck and often constipated, like I'm am at then end of my road.
I stay in this same motion because I am comfortable and too afraid to leave that isolation blanket that has kept me warm for so long.
There are blips in my life where I feel I found someone worth anything.
Our eyes will meet at a social gethering, we get to talking and then when he leaves, the look he gives is like no other.
His eyebrows furrow, wrinkles lay besides his eyes, his smile makes me feel wanted for once in a long time.
what's bad is that i'm already obligated to another, so why do I want to spend time with this new brown haired boy?
I guess he gives me something my own does not give to me now.
what he gives me is hope. A new light of guidence that carries me on through the current prison in which I am entrapped.
Where I am right now, I still don't know.
I curl up like a baby on my cold bed and sob, wondering what I am doing with my life.
I listen to the music of sugar plum fairies and tin men dancing to calm me down.
I realize that what I want most of all is a dream.
Dreams get you through the rough patches in life.
But that is when it hits me, what I don't have is a dream. I've never been blessed with that gift.
I am okay with that now. Because now I don't have to spend so much time on my dreams.
I get the chance to watch others live their dreams, and that makes me happier than anything.
To watch anothers face light up because of pure bliss, that is my happiness.
I've learned to live through others, and I am content.
I'll be okay.

The bell rings as I open the door.
Red carpet covers the floor,
Mr Jones smiles, and sits in his nook
So many books
Do not know where to look.
Sections for writers and poets.
Shelves full of biographies and quotes.
Paper or hard backs, what a choice.
Writers like Tolkien and James Joyce.
Fact or fiction, epics and short stories.
Dragons and fairies, and books from the forties.
Mr Jones takes my money, and passes me my book.
Now rushing home to have a look.
Comfy chair, and a hot chocolate.
Ready to delve into the world of the Hobbit.

Do you cut your birthday cake?
Do you know your birthday is fake?
Don't continue to make the mistake
It's time for you to now awake!

Ask your mother when you were born
You were kicking weeks before and this went on and on
You were alive long back, she knows
And even science has pictures as the embryo grows

Nine months before your so-called date of birth
That is when you actually came to earth
Then you didn't have blood, bone, and skin
You were just a Power, the spark within

But because you believed in the birthday lie
You believed that there were ghosts and fairies in the sky!
Every year you continue to cut your birthday cake
You don't realize the truth, just believe what is fake!

When will you, to the truth, awake?
When will you stop baking your birthday cake?
When you realize that nine months earlier you were born
Then to stop cutting the cake, will you undertake?

Although you know that it is not your date of birth
You came forty weeks before as the zygote on earth
But you just choose to follow the herd
You don't investigate, don't fly like a bird

You don't ask the question, 'Who am I?'
If the body came later, then, 'I am the body,' is a lie
I was that Energy Spark that first came to earth
Not on my so-called birthday is my real birth

In what way will this news make us awake?
Why this big fuss about the birthday cake?
When we realize we are not the body or the mind
Then, Self-Realization we will find

If you are not the body that developed on earth
You realize you are that spark, that's your real worth!
That spark is Energy, that spark is the Soul
To realize this is our life’s ultimate goal

After the spark, starts as a little zygote
Our body is created, be it man or goat
We are not the bodies that we seem to wear
The bodies will live and die and tear

One day, every ‘body’ must die
The one who was alive will depart into the sky
The body that is made of skin and bone
Returns to ashes, as people mourn

We are not that body that died, were we?
People say, 'He passed away', and we are free
They are so sure in the body we no more live
To the flames or to the coffin, our body they give!

If we are not the body that will one day surely die
If we were not born on our birthday, that is a lie!
If we are that spark conceived nine months before birth
Then who is it that on death leaves the earth?

The Soul, the Divine Spirit, the Atman is that spark
To give us life from birth to death is its task
It arrives at conception and departs at death
We are that Power that gives us breath

When you do a simple thing like stop cutting a cake
When you investigate and realize that your birthday is fake
You realize you are the Soul, you are no more vague
To the ultimate truth, you will awake

This Realization is the real beginning of the journey called life
It will liberate us from all misery and strife
When we realize we are not body, ego, and mind
Eternal Happiness and Peace, we will find

Just because we were taught many things that were lies
We believe that God lives in the skies
The birthday cake will make us realize
We will live as the Soul, we will be wise

So, from now don't cut your birthday cake
Don't continue to be ignorant for God's sake
Realize that your birthday is fake
You are the Divine Soul, to this truth awake

He stands on a tiny stool
To reach toys off the shelf
He is only three inches tall
This cute little busy elf.

He is here, there and everywhere
fetching and carrying all of his day
With a smile, and then a whistle
and all this for one penny per day.

But he buys buttercup tea and a mint leaf
knocks it back in one big swoop
Chews the mint leaf to flavour his breath
Doesn't want his reputation to droop.

Got to attract the fairies, make them admire
This perfect little elf that he has become
He is a gentleman through and through
Rich in buttercups and very handsome.

With his curly red hair framing his green hat
His violet eyes, plus a little twinkle
His peachy cheeks and rich rosy lips
and not one sign of old age or wrinkle.

For one hundred and three, this elf is knocking on
The little fairies all have a soft spot for this elf
But most of all the elf has enormous standing
and for that he is most proud of himself.

Between the golden summer days
And winters gloomy sign
The gleaming autumn fairies shine
Floats down the colored ways

She loves to bake us pumpkin pies
And tells us all good night
And while we all are sleeping tight
Back in the glowing woods she flies

She wears a dress of silver silk
That matches by that view
The sparkles of the morning dew
She drinks like honeyed milk

While swinging down to summers end
She laughs and giggles spawned
And waves her little magic wand
To make us autumns friend

you loved me, i loved you,
    and then i didn't.

2. crushed me with words and
    eyes that could see everything.

3. fickle-minded fairies should not
    be trusted; that was your mistake.

4. i was your manic pixie dream--
    time to wake up.

5. you aren't worth ten words.

The fresh savannas of the Sangamon
Here rise in gentle swells, and the long grass
Is mixed with rustling hazels. Scarlet tufts
Are glowing in the green, like flakes of fire;
The wanderers of the prairie know them well,
And call that brilliant flower the Painted Cup.

  Now, if thou art a poet, tell me not
That these bright chalices were tinted thus
To hold the dew for fairies, when they meet
On moonlight evenings in the hazel bowers,
And dance till they are thirsty. Call not up,
Amid this fresh and ****** solitude,
The faded fancies of an elder world;
But leave these scarlet cups to spotted moths
Of June, and glistening flies, and humming-birds,
To drink from, when on all these boundless lawns
The morning sun looks hot. Or let the wind
O'erturn in sport their ruddy brims, and pour
A sudden shower upon the strawberry plant,
To swell the reddening fruit that even now
Breathes a slight fragrance from the sunny *****.

  But thou art of a gayer fancy. Well--
Let then the gentle Manitou of flowers,
Lingering amid the bloomy waste he loves,
Though all his swarthy worshippers are gone--
Slender and small, his rounded cheek all brown
And ruddy with the sunshine; let him come
On summer mornings, when the blossoms wake,
And part with little hands the spiky grass;
And touching, with his cherry lips, the edge
Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew.

While I was asleep last night
Someone's painted the whole world white
They've turned the raindrops into ice
Like pretty jewels they look so nice

Pretty patterns on my windowpane
Perhaps the fairies have been again
Icy flowers and ferns are there
Fairy foliage everywhere

The dormant garden sprang to life
A pretty picture overnight
See the trees and bushes all
Decked as for a fairy ball

Daddy says it isn't so
Fairies disappeared years ago
If they were ever here at all
It's just the harsh winter weather, that's all

Mummy says “They may have been”
But I shouldn't delve into things unseen
I'll be watching out for them all right
They may return in dead of night

Keith Wilson

You are my pink skies with candy floss clouds

My open fields flooded far and wide with cherry blossoms

and green feathered sparrows singing tunes of your favourite songs that sound kinda-something-sorta like your voice,

The walls in my castle populated perfectly with portraits of you

and you already know portraits are my favourite.

Somehow my imagination bound beautifully with my reality such that I could tell no difference.

You are my Utopia.

But utopia is subject to interpretation.

You like candy floss occasionally, pink is not your favourite colour and I do not even know what your favourite flower is

Without forgetting to mention, you prefer beaches.

You like puns, peaches, foxes and fairies but my world has none of that, I want to accept those but you will not have it any other way.

I want our worlds to collide but in a more subtle way, but when that kinda thing happens it is almost always apocalyptic

So, what is yours will never be mine and what is mine you do not even want at all.

My utopia sounds like it belongs in a book, but we all know how long that lasts.




*Be sure to check out Utopian Dystopia Pt. 2!

Venomous trail
Of an idolised Holy Grail
Peaceful ways to ******
The shivers of a happiness,
The neverending loneliness,
Near a cold wall with deep holes
Filled with skies and dampness,
Printed signs of ailing mold
Signs of peace, signs of hurt.

Throw me away...
The black rage within,
Shower with white paint
The old, dusted spirit.
A saint
With no grace to pray
Erase with black ink
Twisted words sink and sink...
In ordinary blank pages  
Long forgotten in time's cages.

The mind needs
These black needs.
A strange place
Of silence and waste,
Dreams on needles
Angst in cradles...

Why do they all come to me?
Why do I have to see
These truths disguised as lies
These fairies turn into spies
Of my deep thoughts
Torture every little crock
Of my own self?

My mind is tired.
I cannot fly anymore.
Give me a reason to allure
The sparks of a fake moon -
Do you feel them too?
The whiskers of a new born sun
Caressing my hair in an air so dun,
I will sleep again, someday... soon.

Looking at the rainbow
The colours envelope your mind
Rubies, ambers and turquioise
Peach skins and orange rind.
Strawberries and lemons in the sky
with apricots inbetween.
A strip of violets in the cloud
Like tea from Devon with cream.
A kind gentle soul emerges
with roses in abundance.
Petals scatter on her path
and fairies lead in dance.
She is wonderful, she is graceful
words without end.
She is a light shining on my dull day
She is Sally, my new friend.

A breath clouds up the air
as I remember the time of the fairies
and back to when the fire of melting candles
was too bright for my fragile eyes

I always envied her eyes
I wonder if melancholy
chose me as its vessel long ago
this frail body has been hollowing itself out for years,
as the ultimate dwelling to rot in,

the chaos is comforting,
all silence stands for is
my complete obliteration
and the endless illusion
of what we once were.

A Strange Land



dropping like a feather from a building,
down down down we go.
softly fluttering like an angels wing
down down down we go
through the mystical garden,
down to the fairies we go.

a short thud with everything looking,
big eyes, small eyes, tall and low.
too and fro looming and jeering,
one with a cruel eye, another a green toe,
staring at us, as our courage hardens
‘til finally one of us goes out to meet our suspected foe

The cruel-eyed beast looks on gazing,
through us, above us, like we were aglow,
we gazed on, half worried, but not cowering.
we crept on a few steps, but ducking down low,
we stepped through the passage, into a garden
with tiny little objects frittering under toe

I saw them through my looking glass writhing,
I saw to the vegetation of twisted brush, high and low,
though in the midst of a labyrinth a tower lay looming.
but it lay on its side, as tho it were dropped to below.
the mice talked and walked together in their own jargon,
I watched them go away and down the tiny road

Winding through the labyrinth following the mice intriguingly,
they knew their way well, we can see by the way they go,
then, simply, they disappear among the vine, leaving us gazing,
with our machetes we cut through the vine,
but the mice are nowhere to be found,
oh what a predicament we are in. the maze is vast and flowing

we look up to see the tower, now upright and *****,
as if a chess piece, it looms,
we make our way through the maze by cutting,
but the vine grows back thicker behind us.
we reach the gate of the tower, no turning back,
A gargoyle stands at the foot of the gate.

He glares but, knows we mean no harm,
we walk through the gate to find a winding staircase.
At the top, a vast kingdom of sand and coal,
pierce our our eyes with wisdom.
I look to peers and cannot help but to weep,
the intricacy of the life below, smothered by the bland view from above.

It is a strange land we come across.
nothing is exactly what it seems,
the cruel are the beloved,
the castles so tall above,
the the small beings below,
everything is beautifully grotesque

Little shadows, little shadows
Dancing on the chamber wall,
While I sit beside the hearthstone
Where the red flames rise and fall.
Caps and nightgowns, caps and nightgowns,
My three antic shadows wear;
And no sound they make in playing,
For the six small feet are bare.

Dancing gayly, dancing gayly,
To and fro all together,
Like a family of daisies
Blown about in windy weather;
Nimble fairies, nimble fairies,
Playing pranks in the warm glow,
While I sing the nursery ditties
Childish phantoms love and know.

Now what happens, now what happens?
One small shadow's tumbled down:
I can see it on the carpet
Softly rubbing its hurt crown.
No one whimpers, no one whimpers;
A brave-hearted sprite is this:
See! the others offer comfort
In a silent, shadowy kiss.

Hush! they're creeping; hush! they're creeping,
Up about my rocking-chair:
I can feel their loving fingers
Clasp my neck and touch my hair.
Little shadows, little shadows,
Take me captive, hold me tight,
As they climb and cling and whisper,
"Mother dear, good night! good night!"

Ophelia I wish you'd come home
I wish you'd stop those wonders through the woods
Ophelia please step back from the river bank
You can't swim

Oh Ophelia they said it was so tragic
They thought you were so beautifully morose
Your hair flowing from under you
Like the pond **** dragged downstream

Oh Ophelia they thought you looked so lovely
Skin as pale and cold as the petals on those lily pads
Glittering like treasure on a bed of rocks in the freezing blue
Pale, still and passive

Oh Ophelia they said it was so poetic
That like the lady of the lake you would be preserved,
Mythical in their minds, decomposing in form
As the river dragged you further from home

Oh Ophelia they called me down at midday
The funeral was planned they said
A mythical theme they said
The colour scheme blue and green

Oh Ophelia they enjoyed the ceremony
There were girls dressed as mermaids singing siren songs
As they drank tea and pink lemonade
A party for Poseidon

Oh Ophelia I wish you'd come home
They turned your voice from truth to sugar
They turned your mind from pure to perfume
They're turning my life from reality to nightmare

Oh Ophelia I wish you'd said goodbye
I miss our talks in the moonlight under the gaze of a million stars
You saw the world so raw, so true
And they forced your mind away

Oh Ophelia I'm so sorry
I let them whisk you away from reality
I let you dance with the fairies
Even though you didn't belong in their dream

Oh Ophelia how I miss you
And wish that you could come home
I kept your books in a box in my closet
When if I'd wanted to help you I'd have buried that corset instead

Do you get that itch under your skin
That makes you twist and twitch?
In the bedroom the fairies play tricks on our
Heads and then we become bewitched

Did it take you long enough
To rip off the tissue,
The skin over bone,
The body I call home?

Does it take your breath away
The way I write about you to this day,
The frame I made to cover your play,
The way you said "I'll stimulate your brain"?

I am lying
Below this tree
On my back with the bats
I see it rising like a mushroom cloud
Bellowing upwards to cover me
Glowing in the moonlight; moonlit
A river flows beside it

While tufts of grass reach
Over its banks
Like peasants at golden gates
With arms outreached
Pleading
To satisfy their thirst
In the stream of life
Unaware of the soft dew
Upon them

In the dark
The solitary streetlight
Reflects upon the water
Under
The blackout skies
A horde of medieval torches
Dances
Like dragonflies
Like fairies in little ships
Their ceremony
Continues

As our time draws to a close,
Cherished times from my memory flows,
From p.e with Mrs. to religion class,
"My- how the time did pass!"

For years I'd called this place home,
With the greatest family ever known,
Who're with me through and thin,
To thank you- I can't begin.

Right now I would like to recall,
Those times when we were small,
Fr. McDonald remember pointing a sword at me
Yelling 'you' as the snow you'd seen?

To those who are no longer here,
I'd like to make this clear,
Even though you no longer see
I still consider you as family.

So much has changed with much time,
In this blessed place of mine,
When we were fairies in 7th grade,
To daughters, who-for crimes paid.

So I'll thank you once again,
As our time must now end,
From here into the world we'll go,
"From your teachings we must grow!"

We'll never forget what we received here,
For had the thought not appeared,
To this day we'd of never arrived,
Nowhere else could we of thrived!

what/====/what  ==
  what./==what.///=what.//==/what.
  here, it is a tar pit  the yellowed trees all that eyes  see cherry blossoms through &through cherry blossoms  cherry blossoms through and through and through  cherry blossoms through
   it soothes- -it becomes ..it blooms -it becomes ..it blooms ---it becomes ..it blooms ---recantations  reconsecration
so many many ages ago,  “probabilities man probabilities”
that’s about itt, man, it seems“similarly“,,,,, noww nowwthe drudge  magenta!noww, man-about time
as i knoww itt” well for once “ once  so pretty  ” she-says -cohorts
justt a dayy more we are closer-hippyhippy-hopp
the  best off linens the blue coats the finest frivolities all that  is pristine pristine-here/Jesuits
a sea of happiness in here everything
a well laid dining table a desk to write read eat a tree outside the never ending vanity fair “that  the magic will live  never will die
cause it’s automatic for people”says-Scot  it is really  automatic-now

“ patterns  emerge   as my prime whiter s,man”----tells,Joe
    

cups of tea-  chamomile- tells Jon/ mayb  “as much as you will like to mingle/&dangle-&mingle /double dribble/triple./Onegin //all the  wriggling the  implausible imposing    ,, nibbles ,,all the book keeping
“the classic anecdote” iff i mayy ... we are all  only supercilious  there’s more here to come”----Jim,, retorts tells
“to which i may”,tells jill    a sheep is _, its all gloom and  kingdom comes
   reasons /and acuity/  th more the merrierer   my bliss/slits
/ & the black space everywhere in
   them the/many minds   all the more   \><citadel.come and go touch of gold   see to believe  
             &&&&&
  <    deep blue lakes &blue that  never end their rune and it  returns  a ship on her chest a ship on her chest,on her chest-that i will reach places un dreamt of
\   will   returnn  > there. everyplace tea<>>>>\
   stays afloat,    dispels /beaten /scowls  scary ,tea<>>>>\all-of jiggling/ bouncying   ><weeds out / >minuscules
ripes/renders jesica>>>>jamboree  come face me.
     the grandest / all  the oddities   one magic invention i was missing all this time transgression/ kindda may be timid /  
  my jive / rruby/mouthing a last supper if you will .something akin
   timid all this time
  wt i was endless immeasurable the - wild/beckons/ ribbons and knots
door to door tropic  day/&night; /beckons// ribbons and knots
\i  was i would  on my side Ausual-revival Arendition again  again
and  lifee-like -ride  and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers
rose swells . fine  our grasslands,you know, stilts frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving in smoke  -reels/incapabl,,indecicve
one more dayy nd through h moors
are off ,,,, raspberry,Jiving,Jiving Jiving
discontent  / neatt/  mother  fuggazii ,Jiving,Jiving Jiving ,a week goes ayb a month a long intention, itt- sooths./all the more oegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat to,, through ,,moved,moved,,moved

, a-blue,, a-temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane 16-1-5-1, miniature lamps,,blizzards6-1-5-1,
all that can in a man/rigour all that hula hoop
possibly a merry christmass,, dayys spent ,,,  full
you  are all that is sire a \ all the pleasures off a small room
full off all the kool tools an art decoo sire by now you know it
all thecrystal fairies in blue crystall *****
pretty slick,,,runs ,piping hott ,, undone  &the; buddha, the-rider,, the- boxes,,,layaway the glistering the beaming, all  the book keeping
a philistine, if i mayy impeccable, and  free
glitters all  the hourrs,a\ repliccaa just a beguiling  taste ,\
,sire,,little empty purposely,, masterfully done,,,sire
beefy ,,sire,and, plenty-full surelyy
the nectar bequeaths

projected .mediocre , mister faires in ferries  shimmering  dearest of stories  / wings/reminising _faires
drool  an artt decoo sire,,,a purple tea *** in which we drink our tea,,,mirrors,,, the very best in the pristine
the mannequins,,all the more-buddha,the-rider,, the- boxes,,
,,sire iff only i may all that   hula hoop.dope-slopes -keystrokes -rabbi=ed folks we traversed   alone
among the ******* faires shining.and whineing
tee -hometown alleys too,the innate shufling,  neat //pique
   from,treetops,bellhops,  all  those-pitstops
   chit chats-flips flops flat-crapp
lemonade/the charade the bee all the hives-all
handmade kind of  dreams /transpicuous
**** you would knoow you would knoow-that anyway blinking/ slits . //slithers
leaping/ reaping/ leaving all blue //eyes bulls eye

archic // mine  !all blue //eyes----  eye leaping/ rearing/
leaping/ reaping/leaping/ rearing/leaping/ reaping/leaping/ rearing/

  
and now the mother  a finale-  ( )   grand //tiers ;piping ;deep-dives................
-clean-off beat -best kept thatt  allures us //still gilding  top -down.  infairies   delusions/- 2rapid 2rabid distracted
comes easy free /  -******
a cup of tea/honey -man i know  with it  /// batteries  jazz like   *******
time and time againn pronto sire
wired tried intake-uptake /cup cakes/hatted  /// orbs many many many kinds justt soo many soo many  many
  any takers in no hurry
/Orphic
left /blending/mended melting too which she says enough off all this shenanigans i want //if this is
her

Tonight all the spirits come out and dance
Tonight all the beasts jump around and prance
Tonight we join that ancient Celtic trance
From Japan to America to Johannesburg to France

The spirits and fairies walk the earth tonight
As we watch and tell stories to induce fright
As werewolves and zombies come out into the light
And all of the witches shall do as they might

So happy Hallows eve, wherever you are
Be it in a haunted hedge or a ship in the stars
From the days of the first druids to those of flying cars
Let us all, human or not, come out to laugh, sing, and roar