Naked is how I love you
like an autonomous grain of sand
skin against skin
and your furtive passions
composed nerve-cells
lavish with mellifluous vibrations
that wash away all signs of negative energy

Naked is how I crave you
that simple lithe figure
faded muscles and tufts of hair
a dimple with a non-existent twin
palliate a thriving surge

Naked, just as you lie
underneath the satin sheets,
and aquiline just as the same
succumbed to unremitting sparks
you are the motif of my every piece
*and you are that act of symbiosis
between the canvas
and the paint

Endlessly onward winds the road
Dimmed by amazing mist o' grey;
Blindly I struggle 'neath my load
Yearning for some radiant day.

What terrors lurk beyond the bend,—
Horrors enough to break my heart?
And yet may I some peace impart,—
We shall n'er pass this way again.

Because for thee so great my love
Let me thy heavy sorrows bear
And palliate each strife and care;
My sacrifice a token prove.


~Hilda~

562

Conjecturing a Climate
Of unsuspended Suns—
Adds poignancy to Winter—
The Shivering Fancy turns

To a fictitious Country
To palliate a Cold—
Not obviated of Degree—
Nor erased—of Latitude—

text= Jay/Sonic Philtre * Text = Mr Sandman
TYRANT
=======


I was born Temujin. It means blacksmith.
I entered the world with a blood clot gripped in my fist.
A sign. Destined to rule. More than mortal man.
I'll unite the tribes as Genghis Khan.
Nomadic tribes. Erratic fractured divides.
Now ride aligned at my side.
The Mongol Horde pours onward.
Behold. The flail of God. All fall. Conquered.  
Homicidal persuasions. Genocidal invasions.
I'm destroyin the nations. All brought to heel.
Crushed. At my will.
Millions killed under hoof and bow and steel.  
Now feel the wrath of Khan. And bend knee.
My name echoes.....Through the centuries.
Infamy preceding me. History remembers me.

Cos I'm a tyrant.

Not born to the throne,I was borne to the Throne,
uncle claimed me as his own,thus my dynasty was born,
a ruthless cut throat,poisonous child,raised in glory,til I ran wild,
my Legions spread round the world like lesions,
my Army needs Levies,**** the rest take the young sons,
join my centuries, echo through the centuries,
Demonic on the Throne,of course they'll remember me!
Praetorian Guard stand hard at my side,
as I flaunt the power of an empire spread wide,
Crushed Britanicus force beneath my sandalled heel,
never before, or since has such power been wielded,
by a frenzied Madman,don't kiss my seal,
it's a ring of death,I giggle at your last breath,
love my horses more than you fools and I'll prove it!,
bread and circuses to palliate the masses,
burn christ lovers alive-now hide your Masses!

My own mother crossed me-I kissed her dead lips,
who's next to die,Throne room is an Apocaplypse!,
spinning out of control,Watched Rome burn,and laughed,
didn't fiddle I was wrappin hot griddles round the lower class,
smell of burning flesh my favourite aphrodisiac,
Bound Aphrodite in human form and ripped flesh from her back,
24and I married my own sister Drusilla,and then killed her,
sinking deeper in insanity Depravity my filter ,
my own advisers avoid my eyes,
knowing that a single twitch could mean they're next to die,
meanwhile I conquer more of earth,am I truly born of earth?,
I think not,Godhood will be my next re-birth,
these filthy savages believe in totems,let them eat dirt,
when I unleash hell from catapults of fire that wreak grim work,
Roma Victor is the cry as they die in a hellish death dance,
The Legacy that will live forever after me the Godhood Tyrant.

Foraging and burrowing for solace  as I hear my beckoning cat singing its hymn of luck...
An electric shock as she left a Hubristic phenomena that impelled itself into an energy disk
using its persona to become a mask
Leaving the host
Exploiting secrets, extorting the waves,
Leaving the host (alone)
in "whys" and "why nots"
creating parallels and contamination
in its solace, an energy box,
as aggression followed
to palliate the breeze
while space blazed and swirled creating new baby miracles everyday;

I’m worried about you.
You seem like you’re aching,
Like your heart hurts.
And even though I try,
I cannot pick all the pieces
every time you fall apart.
It’s like putting together
all the pieces of the Big Bang.

You don’t talk much lately, not really.
You talk about your experiences, not how you feel.
You try to ignore that aspect of your life,
As if expressing them is worse than keeping them in.

Talk to me about you, not about what happened.
Talk about how you feel, how you really feel.
Let it all out, keep nothing inside you.

You know I’m here, always and forever,
Whatever you need, don’t hesitate.
Because while other people abandon you,
I keep by your side, like a masochistic dog.

Yes, masochistic. Because it hurts when you’re hurt.
And even though I try to palliate the impending outcome,
It always gets to you, raw, rough,
Slaps you in the face, sinks you in the river,
Drowns you in this petty thing we call life.

surprising misdirections
      palliate these
      inadequacies.

floral hearts, echoic,

             right in the
                          unspoiled

                           ­                          middle.

My intellect has served me only a level of awareness of the fragility
Of our world... bonded pieces tethered together
By the bubblegum and handshakes, and gentleman's agreements of
Violent, un-gentle men
Lost in time to a group-think long rumored to be extinct
Rumors whose purpose serve only to palliate the weariness of consumers
To keep the market machine spinning
But whose ideals every decade or so resurfaces to strike bold into each generation that our history is not as clean as
The books, and songs of the "good ol days" mislead us to believe
And to raise the rancor of the awakened shouting into choruses of their own voices carrying the same message of resist
And whose fervor is cartooned as extremist
It is said the entitlement of the peaceful to sleep sound at night
Is owed to the will of brave men who stand ready to deliver violence
On their behalf
But whose iron sights and guided bombs increasingly shift focus to the not-entirely-innocent
Whose guilt by association signed in iron pen their death warrants by foreign manipulators claiming liberation
They know what's best, after all
My intellect has served only to deliver this life of anxiety, in the pursuit of happiness.

The profane nature of my heart’s desire
Does not merit prayers
that a purer path may present itself-
My impious thoughts burn through me
Like a prairie brush fire that
paints the night sky red
And all the verses culled from the
holy texts meant to palliate my appetites
Cannot quiet
how I ache for you
my longing striking a sustained chord,
atonement slipping through my fingers.

Every time we touch, you leave a mark