When Christmas shopping is finally done,
wrapped gifts lie ‘neith a tree
that sparkles bright with tinsel and light
for everyone to see.

Each gift has been selected
with thoughtfulness and care.
Toys and such will mean so much
like all the gifts we bear.

But let us keep within our heart
the much greater gift than these.
One from above, with God’s great love
should bring us to our knees.

A gift of birth to all on Earth.
A gift that’s far from small.
To everyone, He gave His Son…
The greatest gift of all.

I could see all neith the flowing dress she wore,
though the moon played its tricks on my eyes that night.
Curled red hair flowing like waves upon the shore,
yet could not hide her fairie wings from my sight.
All night I lay with her on the woodland floor.
We laughed and loved, though she was gone come daylight.
And each night since I've gone to the wood to find,
naught but a fairie ring did she leave behind.



*Ottava Rima:  Italian stanza form composed of eight 11-syllable lines, rhyming abababcc. It originated in the late 13th and early 14th centuries and was developed by Tuscan poets for religious verse and drama and in troubadour songs.

memory
and the city lights fading behind me
the wheels turning in the night
the tears called upon to save you have decayed
faded into the cake of makeup
stretched on your parody smile
put a candle on that babe and celebrate another year

twenty miles outa town
stopped my buick
'neith the highway sing
and in the cool desert moon
made love to another woman
just to have another falling star to chase
shes a little cracked but she can smile
yes she can
and that's a ray of pure sunshine to this broken heart
that's a glass of gladness in the chambers of sour

i owe a thousand apologies
but none of them east of the mississippi
so i head to sunny florida
spend all my time in the rain
writing letters home to the mountains of the moon
serenity is just another girl after all
isnt that what she would say
a fun pile of hot packed in skintight jeans
but just a girl

tried to find a narrow path in the thorns
attempted to get round the snags
but milkmaids and **** kings
are all too sure that id fail someday
and they wait with bated breath for me to be
on my knees
but im making a new lifetime outa the dust
im carving a new hope outa the curses laid on me
ill make it because im resolved like iron ink
but im rusting like rainwater
and there is nobody i can hope not to offend

i had thought to find your hand to hold
and standing here in the rain
wish itd work its way out
im so weary of the futile chase
but you left on a train headed north to go find my enemies
to deal out some measure of justice

im resolved like iron ink
rusting in the american sun
nobody's treasure
born to wait
come home someday

As the wizard traps his fairy in his enchanting
crystal ball
The wolf draws back to serenity neith the
luminous waterfall
The magic unicorn cuddles with the forbidden
persian cat
And the majestic lion gambles with the savage
loyal rat
I listen to the harps peaceful melody of the sky
Played on her pastel rainbow as she swiftly
flys on by
The mighty tigers watchful eyes
Glare at the lightnings slow demise
The dolphins play with the bubbles of the sea
This mystical place of harmony, found inside of me!


© Crystal Erickson

the road was a dusty grey
in the early morning light
shadowed by a thick fog
quiet with late summer breeze
his footloose wandering had brought him
through all the long years
and all the long miles
to this strange place

the old wood fence
broken down in places was
all that separated from the woods
cool and rich with the scents of summer
and it looked like a wonderful place
to take his rest from midday sun

so sat neith a tall oak
has his supper and did fall fast asleep
lulled by the warm summer day
and he dreamed

a dream of all the worlds wonders
dream of loving warm things that give the heart ease

he woke well after the sun had fled
to a forest strangely silent
to a foreboding to chill to the soul
he cast about seeking the source of ill-ease
but nothing there was so it seemed

deep in distance he began to perceive
the small sound of a woman's voice singing soft an sweet
drawing near
and he could see distant light moving through
the trees
drawing near
and he did marvel at the ideal of sweet maiden
coming to ease him
so sweet was the sounds of her approach
he had only thought of beauty
only had thought of lusts
but narrow is the edge of reality we perceive
and swift is reality's vengeance for the unguarded heart

and then he saw her
and swore within his heart that he was in love
so fair was her face
so enticing was her form
so he was ensnared
so he was doomed
she is a siren of the dark wood
her fair face hides the sharp teeth of her viper heart
her fair figure hides her dark nature
she fell upon him
and murdered poor traveler without even a thought
left his bare bones to dry in the morning sun

the dark wood
contains many things to chill the soul
but none so gruesome
as the fair maiden

dustbunny's lonly heart
lay neith the chair
her fine hair flowin
her grey dress as beautiful as can be
she sat the quiet summer day
waiting for a passing breeze
knew he would come for her
someday
once she was the beauty queen
all the other bunnys
crowed round
admiring her fine fine looks
but as they passed this chair
she got caught in a crevice
and watched as the rest of the
bunnys swept along on the breeze
laughing and playing
living the bunny dream
she has waited here
for the breeze man to pick her up
and take her back to her friends
but little did she know
that the people who owned the house
had fixed the broken window
and breeze man couldnt come to rescue her
instead a terrible fate awaited her
vacuum cleaner girl
was gonna find her
and eat her
breeze man beat upon the window
trying to find her
but vacuum girl really *****
and in the end
she found
dustbunny

SS
A tortured writer once there was
who toiled into the night
Locked in his lofty chamber
where stories could take flight.

'Twas a dark October evening
a moonless night and dreary
Tho ink was filled
no words would spill
He soon became quite weary.

The writer threw his quill away
and muttered with a sigh,
"No more midnight oil for me
the end of the wick is nigh."

Frustration with the flow of ink
had almost made him weep
Tho *** was full
His wits were dull
And so he went to sleep.

When next he woke
he found himself
Upon a stormy sea
'Twas black as pitch
The likes of which
He ne'er before had seen!

The sky was red and purple
There was a hellish wail!
A ghostly gleam
Glanced from the beam
And gibbered in the sails.

What is this apperition?
He cried unto the wind
Where am I sent?
I must repent!
My sins you must recind!

Ah, NO! Thus spake
The loathsome ghoul,
It is too late for you!
You know full well
That you're in hell
Your options are now few!

Her words sliced through
the lashing gale
And chilled him to the bone
For gazing 'round the
Phantom ship
He found he was alone.

TSP
Forsooth! bellowed
the tortured bard
For now I know your scheme!
Here's the switch
You foul old witch
This is but a dream!

You see this sand
Within my hand,
Which through my fingers creeps?
This is but illusion
And I am just asleep!

The banshee shrieked
And squeeled with glee!
She danced upon the deck!
That is true, but now for you
This is a shipwreck!

She spread her arms and chanted
The seas began to boil!
Double double
Cauldron bubble
Trouble for your toil!

SS
The red wind howled
Like a pack of wolves
O'r an ocean black as tar
His heart froze
As waters rose
'Neith a sky which had no stars.

TSP
Against this sea of troubles now
There's nothing I can do,
But in this dream
Perhaps is seen
An end to what flesh is heir to.

SS
The witch regarded him with hate
Let me assist! She roared
And swooping down
In devil's gown
She pushed him overboard!

He flailed about as he did drop
And couldn't even think!
She crowed with glee
For he could not see!
The ocean was of INK!!!

As he sank, his fear was rank,
Within those oily waves.
His voice was caught
But then he thought
This will not be my grave!

He asked for hell or heaven
To rescue him away
He escaped death
With his last breath
He began to PRAY,

Then sweet arms
wrapped 'round him
'Twas an angel! She did cry,
Hold on tight, and do not fight,
For we are going to FLY!!!

Out of the mirey ocean
She lifted him on high
The furious witch
Howled and pitched
Herself into the sky!

For a while she followed
Spouting curses as she flew,
But the angel's wings
Did soar and sing
There was naught
the ghoul could do.

And so the thankful writer
Got a brand new start
And so he plucked a feather
From the angel wing's soft heart.

Thus ends the epic ballad
Of POE. One Edgar A.
His legendary writing
Admired to this day.

Now at his will an angel's quill
To inspire him to write
For though he wrote of darkness
From ink as black as night.

He was an inspiration
For who could truly tell?
Annabel's love.
From heav'n above?
Or from the pits of HELL

she mostly laughs when she dances
you can see the delight
in her eye as we get to the concert hall
that her feet are singing along already
that shes just bouncin in her sandles
ready for the band to to start up
ready for the song to take her places she oh so loves to go
she laughs as she dances
and she got nothin on 'neith that dress
so she can move easy
and feel free
oh man what a turn on
and so is that pretty laugh of hers
always makes me smile too
love to watch her dance
love to love her
my dready babycakes
my night passion
my day love affair
take my arm baby
lets go see who's playin down at the club
maybe
we can get a giggle or two
maybe i can get 'cha dancin
just for me

the hour speaks its tune and the world dances to it
in perpetual movement hand in hand to the eye
through the nameless ages of silent symphony
i wait for its rapid step to pass
on the way through the halls of time

a fool and his mothers milk of
answers for all occasions from the most fashionable of sources
like the distant days enlightenment from a bubble gum wrapper
time slows to a walk as it dawns upon the teacher that all who learn
have not the same measure of thought to consequence

my only thought as this caravan of the soulless passes
is of the eyes peering from 'neith the ragged tarp
the filthy lenses of their vision
carpets my senses with the intensity of the truly mad
not a shed tear blemishes their near perfect in unison laughter
what manner of beast birthed this nightmare of the perverse
what corner of rough madhouse could
be the home to such

the old hour limps through to its finality
and its tune is renewed with the freshly birthed hour
the old hour is buried in the ashes of the new hours burning desires
as seen in her now awake eye
she reaches for me
and pulls me slowly down into her viper kiss
i willing surrender to its poison tastes
for she is young
and willing

the fool having exhausted his mothers milk
of quick fix answers
lays down his defences
and is overrun
weeping the whole time
for his lost paradise
for his lost chance to be the star of his one man show

Undersold circular vow, encrypted against ingrown shards - the seedless mother Neith from which gore split her superiority to low frequencies devouring their black spinel printed offspring, denied not her abnegation in self-preserving - thy wing span crowded inside my *****, a cross bathed in salt and dried seaweed, siren to my purity.