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Tammy M Darby Aug 2013
Royalty
She dwells in the sea- green palace of her father
The mermaid swam alone on blustery days
The seed of the water god Neptune and a river nymph
Her beauty blind the sun and his morning rays

On days of boredom
She swam with the white dolphins
Riding high on heaving rolling waves
Other times with Omura's whales dive deep
Or play in a red coral reef bay
Tickling blue ***** that walked on the sandy bottom
Exploring the dark octopus caves

Floating often with the deadly jellyfish
Keeping her scaled tail very still
Or wiggling through the raging currents of the ocean
With the graceful ribbon eels

The day passed passed
She became weary
Came time to rest her head
Returned to the flowing green kelp palace
And did sleep on a starfish bed



All Rights Reserved @Tammy M Darby August 2013.
All Material Stored in Author Base
Steve Sep 2018
What made Walter falter at the alter?
Rumours heard, suspicions stirred
That on her hen night in Gibraltar
Nelly met a tall pole vaulter
And when he showed her his equipment
She forgot about her commitment
She scaled that pole
Like a water vole
But never bent the bar
Like a sports mad superstar
The bridesmaids couldn’t halt her
And that night they heard her down in Malta.

Walter by SE
New super improved version.
Bison Jun 2016
Splash through the puddle underneath that golden expanse
Our tea cup synchronicity belies our swimming decadence

Ride waves taught by the playful mantaray
Cruise through the ocean sky to the city of the Bay
Like a babe I crawl on the edge of the plane

We're all refugees on this backwater bathwater ocean
We look around and to our elders to make sense of the scaled schools motion
The gray herd moves as the vacuum looms over green Picasso notions

As travellers across great highways we can reach those distant cosmic creations
A speedboat horse race were confident we can win

Ski down pillowcases  of fresh powdered imagination
Great green looming through the dark starlight illumination
Barrel rolled into the canvas ink of knowledge on the mountain

We pay attention to the cashier of time
So we can swing life away as the world floats by
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this is rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
ryn Sep 2014
Creature of myth, you have to be real
I know you're there, I know you exist
Can't see nor touch but indeed I feel
That should suffice to say the least

No one I know has seen this mythical creature
I stand by my beliefs... I simply just do...
This being unknown to aged texts or ancient scriptures
Allow me to document, I'll keep it true

"A magnificent neck that tapers into a head
Much like a halo, wearing a luminescent crown
Azurite for eyes like many have said
A golden mane majestically cascading down

Almond shaped face, with cheeks slightly scaled
In the centre were dimple-like nostrils
From it's mouth, a voice; demure and frail
Speaks in verses from a time frozen still

Within the cage right under its chest
I know that calmly there lay beating
A huge, magnanimous heart does rest
Embedded deep within a physique so beguiling

Its spine is perfect, as if forged by a divine mould
Limbs are long, but with gait so light
Non terrestrial wings that into nothing they fold
Stretched around is smoothened skin milky white"


That is all I have got to offer so far
Matched the words to my mind's bewitching visage
No one has seen it; thus ensured that they cannot mar
In my head will forever be etched the image

Creature of myth... Please be real
Know that I am blinded, I just want to see
Not for the others, you don't reveal
I do believe... I just need to convince me...
Valsa George May 2016
When I look into the mirror
And stare at my own reflection
I see a stranger sneering at me
I see the patch of dark around my eyes
I see my hair going grey
I see the blotchy skin and wrinkles on my face
It all makes me think
How rapid is the flight of youth

Once I was a bubbly girl
Full of charm with dreamy eyes
The golden vistas cheered my heart
In my dreams I scaled to touch the skies
Love vibrated every nerve
But now a sad change has come over
It all makes me think
How rapid is the flight of time

Once I thought how bright and sweet was life
Agile were my movements, could walk miles
Fatigue I never knew, supple limbs never ached
Life was a roller coaster ride
Today when I look at the young
With wind in their skirts and sunbeams in their eyes
I see the stark change that years have brought
And wonder how rapid the onset of old age is

Though my beauty has burnt away
And my bones have a brittle grate
Still I would like to hold on stubbornly
Looking at each day for what next day brings
As I still have a hopeful heart
And wish to embrace life as it comes
To make it a sweet labor of love
So I ‘rage, rage against the dying of light’!
MisfitOfSociety Sep 2018
The bees don't care what you say,
The bees go their own way.
Don't be like a monkey,
Rather be like a bee,
You can't tell them what to do,
the bees just defy you.

You can hold down the seas,
but you can't hold down the bees,
Who are you to tell them what to do,
We are the many run by the few.

Newton is my god,
god is good,
god is great.
Forgive me father,
for I have sinned.
I am sorry,
for questioning thee.
Bless upon the fruit that fell and freed us!
Bless upon the monkeys that gave birth to us!
Bless upon the pictures that they painted for us!
Bless upon the cosmic scaled **** that made us!

You are my eyes,
my prophet,
my seer,
my revelator,
put thoughts in my head,
and I will repeat what you have said
Our thoughts are not our own,
We are not safe, even in our home.

Monkey see, monkey do,
we are the many run by the few.
Don't be like a monkey,
rather be like a bee,
don't do what they say,
forget what you have learnt and levitate away.
*** did I just write.
mariamme Aug 2018
conserve me
like the growing things
curling their tendrils
between our souls on this earth.

feed me your love
but let me pour back into you
wash the fear from my eyes
after every successive song
like shifting waves
off the ocean at your back;

my tears were salty on your tongue
but the wind dried them
as we scaled mountains
of love & dipped into valleys
of shadow & mystery.
Tammy M Darby Dec 2016
Her feathered cloak was threaded with gold of gold of the sun
To the queen of all celestial bodies did bow
She walks upon still reflections of a pale flaxen moon
Emerald 12-point crown resting upon innocent brow

So came the fire breathing scaled red dragon
Seven headed possessing seven bands of death
From which sprang 10 sharp bloodied horns
To devour the coming male child
Whose birth would be challenged by battle
Transcended from the legends of old

The jade eyed dragon of a human’s dream
Treacherous creature this serpent
  Brushed way innumerable points of light
The dragon’s flames were all consuming
The weapons of his strength and might

In fury and anger with bellowing sound
Sharp claws dripping with evil
Ripped through quivering walls of time
Igniting shimmering silver waves of reality
As a third of the heather stars fell down

The dragon’s breath laced with smoke and poison
Alas would avail him naught
Defeated, disgraced and overcome
Spread dark wings and from the queen took flight

The screaming male child born with iron hand to rule
Paused his breath to hear Gods cry
Ascended to the throne of he who created the world
Forever in the golden house to stand at his side.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Dec. 16, 2016
Caio Consoli Oct 2018
I'm on Urge;
Do not Judge;
I love Fudge;
With all my Grudge;
~
Like Such;
Wanted so Much;
But i was Clutch;
Ate on a Brunch;
~
On a Saturday;
Like in May;
Let me Say;
Was in Clay...;
~
It was Good;
Like my Mood;
That i Could;
Send a ****..;
~
And in Despair;
I had a Flair;
But to be Fair;
I didn't Care;

--------

I'm Lost;
What's the Cost?;
I got Exhaust;
By the Frost;
~
I've Failed;
Got Jailed;
It Scaled;
Blackmailed...;
~
They're Blind;
Can't Find;
And Bind;
Got no Mind;
~
Left a Mark;
In the Dark;
Like a Quark;
Instable as a Shark;
~
In this Blend;
I Attend;
She my Friend;
Brings the END.
Empty, just like my mind.
jane taylor May 2016
the end is now in sight
terror comes encroaching
don’t let the perilous dusk
douse the flame that leads you

the dream inside you burns
yet darkness wants to dim it
when you want to quit
hear the summit calling

and when’s the sky’s sunlit
and faith is at its brightest
the blackness strikes again
the apex is still higher

tho’ energy now spent
you vow to keep on going
just when the crest you’ve reached
you slip and fall now dangling

hanging by a nail
a famine then come robs you
feed on your inner will
to see your destination

you break free and go on
the wind strikes now the hardest
resist not but take flight
set sail to elevation

your spirit will not break
your eye’s upon the zenith
but next the snake will bite
let passion be your tonic

it burns right through your veins
your skin molting peels off you
metamorphosis has changed
the venom to elixir

then illness strikes quite fierce
you sink into a deep trench
reach down throw up your twine
towards the light you see it

no strength left yet still walk
you are not to be broken
stop gasp and catch your breath
you are at the top now

a phosphorescent light
envelops all around you
spin it into gold
throw rope to those still climbing

you who’ve scaled the mount
tho’ scarred have high ascended
fear’s an illusion here
love’s altitude has conquered

never give up hope
tho’ night is at its cruelest
hang on to see the sun
the pinnacle is magic

©2016janetaylor
#pinnacle #forbearance #hope #magic
Terry O'Leary Feb 2015
The Rulers wield their silver shields,
             wear golden coronets
while warders guard the prison yard,
             boast brazen bayonets
and unicorns flaunt ivory horns
             defending martinets.

While Bankers beam Their self-esteem
             (bailed out of broker's debts),
and Bureaucrats grow rich and fat
             in six-star luncheonettes,
the deep, devout and down and out
             survive as silhouettes.

The Press take pains to wash our brains,
             Their words have mesmerized.
So, mild and meek, we fear to speak
             in worlds They’ve polarized,
and rush to war, through Satan's door,
             watch cities vaporized.

The Lord of Lore tells tales of war,
             of victories far away,
where eyes stare stark within the dark
             and death is painted gray
on faces cold, some young, some old,
             in spectral disarray.

We're taught at school the Golden Rule
             for all to live in bliss,
but in the wars on foreign shores
             the only rule is this:
“Yo! You and I must fight and die
             inside the black abyss!”

But well alive, the Merchants thrive
            on sales of armaments
that Barons built (with pride, not guilt)
            to quell the dissidents,
while Partisans are posing plans
             to conquer continents.

And back at home, the rumors roam
             “Good times are soon to come,
despite the breeze on frozen seas
             in weathers wet and numb.”
When we’re in need, They’ll intercede
             with prayers if we succumb.

A Tabloid screams of phantom dreams
             to keep our minds at sea
and TV skews the evening news,
             ensures we all agree:
“With dynamite we fight for right
             and not for tyranny.”

The brain aborts when drugged with sports
               and fashions of the day,
and sevenfold, men think as told
              and so are led astray;
and like some sheep (unless asleep)
             they baa when they obey.  

In search of sense in sounds intense
             of droning drum tattoos
(the beat sustains the endless reigns
             which swamp the avenues)
souls, thin and worn, traipse by, forlorn,
             delayed by shackled shoes.

Ten thousand eyes belong to Spies
            who watch us day and night
to track our trails and read our mails
             and say They have the right
to know our thoughts and thwart our plots
             to cease Their oversight.

Behind the scenes, behind the screens,
             the rules are fixed, arranged
(contorted smiles conceal Their wiles -
             Their goals have never changed).
When upside-down, a grin is frown
             and common sense deranged.

Along the roads, the future bodes
             in legends made of dust,
and ashes gray the alleyway
             'neath lampposts scaled with rust.
While Divas dine with cakes and wine
             pale orphans share a crust.

Dead colonies of humble bees,
             a ravaged hornets' hive,
rain forests, dales and minke whales
             soon nothing left alive…        
a world laid waste is to Their taste,
             as long as They survive.

As sunlight wanes in winter rains
             and sullen shadows crawl,
the evening ebbs, and spider's webs
             seem tattooed on the wall.
Upon the night the Masters write
             The Final Protocol.
BJ Donovan Dec 2018
I sit in my metal chair that holds my metal heart
  safe from them wanting a piece of my fame and
  fortune. **** them! I'm Picasso! I'm a famous
  ancient scaled beast in cubes to be stored away.
Deborah Downes Sep 2016
Fever-flushed children and
Broken bodies
Litter hospital halls like so much
Human refuse
….Wondering why
their need for care is treated so tepidly by a
Society which worships
Profits
Power and
Prestige
….Waiting while
they wallow in anguish as
Privacy
Paperwork and
Payment are
Debated by bureaucrats in cubicles
….Wanting to be refreshed and
restored to some measure of usefulness
….But
Free to Pursue Life on their terms in exchange for  
Silence
Acceptance and
Despair

Huddling for warmth and in
Fear of discovery
they assemble in rag-tag formation
having scaled formidable fences
Seeking freedom from
Poverty and oppression
Searching for work of any sort
….No matter how
Humiliating or
Hard
….No matter the
Cost or
Conditions
Disparaged and despised they labor
in hope that their children will have a chance for success
instead of suffering a similar fate
…..But
Free to Pursue Liberty
in a land where their presence is
Ignored if not Denied

Unkempt in camouflage
One-legged and
Vacant-eyed
he rolls his rickety wheelchair along grassy median with muted effort
displaying cardboard sign
childishly scripted
in one weather-worn and gnarled hand
while clutching a decapitated jug in the other
Forgotten
Forlorn, and
Discarded veteran
Victimized far more by country than foe
….But
Free to Pursue Happiness while
Begging on street corners as
Upright citizens dispense
Unwelcome opinions or
Pocket change with equal
Self-righteousness


Life
Liberty and the
Pursuit of happiness….
Ideals that slowly incinerate on the
Altar of Capitalism
….Songs forever lost in the
Cacophony now
Played on the
Instrument of Politics
Arianna Nov 2018
You gleam Caribbean bright,
whispering melancholy in the watercolor essence
of your blue-green havens
diffused in unison
with the silver-scaled Ocean.

Sunlight and Water in fusion
i watch from the shore,
reflections dancing
along the rippling spine of your Oneness:

Elements

Light and Air
Shadow and Water
Green, Blue, and Yellow

merge Turquoise

as i venture closer into the waves.

Turquoise
satin cohesion
playing its tongue over the ivory of my skin,
coiling sun-warmed and serpentine 'round my limbs,
across hips and shoulders
nestled against your warm quintessence,
weaving between fingers.

Turquoise
filling my palm,
feeling its gold-glinting calm
seep cool into my veins ⸺
swirling
snaking
wine-dark harmonies
of Blue-Green Sunlight and blood ⸺
and i watch mesmerized
as the twinkling scales of your energy
scatter,
lapped up by healing tongues of tidal waves,

falling away

becoming Flesh.
For one with eyes as piercing as a reptile's, the gentle aura of a songbird, and a beautiful gift for seeing the world in color.
Ivan Brooks Sr Jul 2018
The kitten moved very slowly
She was a motherless lost kitten.
Again and again,she fumbled blindly,
Like everything was hidden.
She searched everywhere
And cried From dawn to dusk
But her mother was nowhere!
She dug into the earth's crust,
And tried to climb the olive tree,
She scaled the neighbor's wall
And wondered where could mom be.
So she began the desperate call;
"Mother,mother,where at thou?
Are you somewhere looking for me,
Are you trying but don't know how?
Mother,you I search but I can't see,
From me the world is hidden!
Why don't I see anything at all?
Mama,mama help for I haven't eaten!"

#IvanBrooksPoetry
7/22/2018
Trying out my imagination.
BJ Donovan Apr 5
When I was in youth's armor
  scared only of clowns at night
  I saved damsels in distress and
  scaled walls of greatest height
  I lived in the woods and creeks
  summer was endless 'til the end
  Back to school nuns tried to tame
  me by breaking me, make me bend.
I'm old now and wicked as hell
hiding inside some lovely shell
My fire is dying so ready the hole
to plant my body and free my soul.
melissa rose Jan 10
It is an anchor thickened with age
tiny fractures induced by love
do not lance its hardened core
scaled with the red rust of rage
it ensures I am uncared for

Infrangible are these chains
that have rendered me confined
interlocking coils I can’t seem to break
have inflicted immeasurable pain
and a lifetime of heartache

There are moments I believe I can soar
blinded by realistic illusions
I expand my wings and take flight
shocked disbelief as I crash once more
I lack sacred truth and simple insights

Do I give in and embody the tethers,
surrender to my self limitations and
buy the lies of this mortal mind?
Or stitch my brave heart back together
forever detached from the ties that bind?
1/10/19
Mark Oct 2018
I have presumed and wrote, that heaven's guard
would greet and welcome me, when age had won
but if that golden staff would wave me barred,
what fault had I, to just - my soul outdone?

Would my offense be matters scaled with love
for deep into the past's of May; love cried
when angels swept her past the clouds above,
and only Spring this year, had love retried.

Ah, could my newer flame have burned the seers;
for hearted vows, in death could still ordain,
if fallen whispers grieve in angel ears;
that promised - only she, in love would reign.

O' parted love, weep not, that heaven's bless!
Tho' love here changed, means not - our love is less.
There's a wound in my wish,
To be healed by you.
There's a clamour in my wish,
To be soothed by you.
There's a dilemma in my wish,
To be unwoven by you.
There's ahypnia in my wish,
To be lulled by you.
There's a monster in my wish,
To be killed by you.
There's dough of clay in my wish,
To be moulded by you.
There's a distance in my wish,
To be scaled by you.
There's a formless feeling in my wish,
To be shaped by you.
There's a wandering desire in my wish,
To be ceased by you.
There's a place in my wish,
To be explored by you.
There's a caged bird in my wish,
To be freed by you.
There's a book in my wish,
To be read by you.
There's a longing in my wish,
To be loved by you.
There's something excess in my wish,
To be curtailed by you.
Rich Hues Apr 8
He was a Swede called Sven
With an industrially scaled *******,
She was a pensioner from Hull
With an extensive *** toy collection.

They both shared an interest in cats
So they opened a chain of catteries,
Then Sven took care of her *****
And she saved a fortune in batteries.
#monday
Crow Nov 2018
A creature not of here or there
With parts that do not fit
Neither fish nor fowl, horse or bear
A bashed together kit

Too many heads, some with horns
Body furred and scaled
Eagles wings and spines like thorns
And as a peacock tailed

Some aspects might bring a smile
While others will repel
One small detail may beguile
Yet another breaks the spell

Each pack or flock it tries to join
Though they seemed akin
And in some facet quite adroit
Another portion can’t fit in

Every time it tries as best it may
To hide an offending section
Knowing that if seen in light of day
The result will be rejection

So the beast remains an alien
Cloaks what's best concealed
Strives to imitate the chameleon
That no misshape be revealed

All creatures hunger for a home
Chimera hungers too
But it wanders doomed to roam
A haven to pursue
All of us are Chimera to a degree. But some more than others.
patty m Mar 10
In the land of ghosts there lies a shimmer of light ethereal and sacred as an epiphany.  This hour I feel it and care not if it is sand or water, this destiny that liberates faith and soul.  Too long have I, Hassam prayed to God to help me in my quest to find the place called Rainzapour.  Here, I am a prisoner shackled in a dungeon I was besieged and tortured by hideous devils especially the man with the evil eye,   But now my hands are unshackled and I breathe the air of freedom.  Sometimes I stare into a void and gather my senses, yet in white shade there is still darkness.  I am strong as I whisper to fate, " take me to Rainzapour and the palace of the black hearted Caliph Rashidun enemy of the common people."  In the beginning I was wearied by travel having been besieged upon by demons and suicidal assaults and yet my love carried me forward to my destiny.
As a very young man I had collected haunted items, a moon chalice used in sacrificial ceremony, a sword taken from the hand of the dead on a battlefield, a mushroom turned to stone still purple with it's poison one bite away from whole.  Once I found a copper bottle with a heavy seal, this too I added to my collection. I was serious and scholarly but studied the art of combat and became skillful in mock battle and combative games. It was at such an event I caught the eye of Bahija, beautiful creature, my dream of womanly curves, my heart throbbed in my chest when she gave to me a flower and soon I gave her my heart.  She was air and nature and her soft voice danced like smoke in my mind.  All went well and one day as we met in a field of poppies a dark shadow descended upon us.  There on every side were stealthy warriors, soldiers of the dead, hooded devils who took me prisoner and stole Bahija away.  Many years later I learned she had been forced into the harem of the Caliph.. Hatred rose in me, hatred and love and it made me powerful.  Biting down ******* metal my manacles sprung open leaving my hands free.  Soon the guards so brutal yet unsuspecting succumbed to their fate, and I escaped.  I was free and still they incessantly dogged my heels like hounds from hell.  I returned to the field behind my home.  Unwilling to subject my family to the same fate as mine, I didn't enter the house but dug deep into the soft loam to retrieve the box which held a few belongings along with my collection.  The sword gleamed lethally in the light of the moon and a surge of power sang deep in its metal.  The moon chalice as well vibrated, as though it had a task to perform and couldn't wait, but it was the bottle that was most powerful of all throwing itself out of my hands until the seal broke and there before my eyes was a giant genie or jinn.  Broad chested and strong he appeared human but narrowed to fit inside the bottle.  Now I had heard of such as he, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see one.  He was of the line of Marid, considered the most powerful tribe of Jinn. When he spoke it was deep and booming and made me shiver inside my skin.  There were no wishes to be granted, he would help me obtain the most important thing in the world that I wanted and once it was mine he would be free of the bottle.  True to his word he taught me to bathe myself in mud fortified with basilisk oil and to bake in the crust of lava until my body hardened  to the strength of armor, and it was he who as my spirit guide drew up my magick sigil a Silver Sword and Chalice above a Star on a background of Ebony. When I was attacked while traveling he trapped himself in my body and we slew hundreds on hundreds of warriors.  Now as I stood outside the wall of Rainzapour, I knew that soon I would be losing this valiant protector for once I claimed my beloved he would be allowed his freedom.  One last battle condemning the Caliph and all his evildoers to die in their polluted blood, as I freed those innocents he forced himself upon.   So close and yet so far I could detect the flickering of a mind heavy hearted and needful of solace. " Bahilja," I whispered, "Can you sense that I'm here for you?"

Tonight the moon will eclipse and the Jinn once more will become part of me as we scaled the high imposing wall cloaked in darkness.  There were soldiers everywhere, we moved  ghost-like, landing lightly in the courtyard. with only seconds to spare, as the Jinn performed his task.  Twenty men downed and now we swap out our clothes for the theirs, donning hooded face covering and weapons to spare.  Soon we're climbing to the halls of the palace lighted by tall torches and golden candlesticks.  I longed to search for the harem and Bahilja, but silent warriors were everywhere guarding halls and doors.  Some raised their hands in welcome as we passed and I nodded in pretense of recognition.  Before us lay a court room and there the Caliph beckoned us to join him in a meal.  No hummus or taboule, but complex stews with spices and herbs their foreign  scents causing a sickness to rise in my throat.  He invited us to pull forth a cushion as though waiting to crush a dove in his hand.  Things were out of control. I could feel that he recognized me for what I really was, a man inhabited by a jinn and yet his eyes were hypnotizing and I felt unable to resist his hospitality, though I knew this was a sorcerer and a man of blackest evil.  Women entered carrying platters of bread and as the light moved I saw her sitting comfortably on a cushion.  A harder version of the young Bahilja, assured and in control as though she had attained great status.  My heart crashed as I saw the child beside her, five or six years old and the image of the Caliph.   She must be his first wife and mother of the heir, no abused innocent, but a woman of status.  There would be no saving her now. She'd hate me for the child clearly was her love and life.   The caliph played me like a snake, his evil eye delving into my soul and the jinn too was confused and perplexed and prey for evil promptings.  Summoning intense concentration I rose up, making ready to leave.  Then the battle began, there would be no easy exit for the air became putrid and all ran away. It was just the jinn and I and the Caliph whose appearance had changed into a huge black jinn with a bejeweled turban.  Suddenly it all became clear, and I saw this is where I belonged. My mind alert now, I pulled myself up to my full stature returning stare for stare and then the battle began.  Abdul my Jinn surfaced from his previous oblivion.  We bowed and the heaven fell down and darkness turned everything bleak.  I felt jabs and pain erupting  though my soul, this was good and evil battling with all their might.  Abdul fought courageously downing the evil one again and again.  But my body was his prison and each bolt rent yet another hole and each hole seeped blood sapping Abdul as I floundered on the ground. .  I was the bottle that enslaved him and he couldn't cut me loose.  And yet as I became a shadow, Abdul reached for my sword, the mushroom and the chalice and the earth stood still, as rumbling vibrations spawned my rebirth..  One slice of the sword sent the black Jinn's head flying and evil shrank to bitter root leaving the Caliph in the shape of a man.  In the chalice Abdul combined wine and root and mushroom, the final swallow and the Caliph was turned to smokeless fire scorching earth .  We drew a circle and ringed it with salt and his spirit was banished to the cave of horrors.  

What of Abdul and me and the widow and child?  My body couldn't contain Abdul so I set him free.  Free to do as he chose and he chose to be the new Caliph. for only he could contain the evil passed down to child who would someday rule.   Bahilja chose to stay with her child becoming the wife of Abdul and I was welcome to stay as well but chose not too.  Somewhere a new life waits for me.  Strong again and free at last with no demons breathing down my neck I ventured out taking with me some riches bestowed upon me by my benevolent hosts. .Perhaps I would find another trove of ancient  relics, or create magic, or maybe I'll find love.  For now I'll return to my family and relate the tale of Rainzapour.  .
Tark Wain Oct 2018
People only like you when it's convenient,
true
People only like you when it's convenient
to.
Not your family,
true
but only them because they have
to.
Don't laugh at this you know it's
true
They're not with you when you need them
to.
When you're dark and cold and stormy,
true
They cheer for the islands they're whisked away
to.

Even you,
true
The one I was there for, when you needed me
to.
Even when I didn't want to be,
true
I would have scaled a thousand mountains
to
Get to you.
True.
I guess it never mattered
to
you.
True.
You say you'll be there for me, but I don't trust you
to.
We feel war-torn inside where we are torn by war inside, where our
slimy guts are kept hot before we're scaled, scalded, shaved, flayed,
splayed, de-nutted, *****, froze, cored, portioned, tanned & gutted.
girl diffused Feb 19
when you sing,
you want it to bloom out of the garden
in your bones and out of your heart,
and you want it to be like
you were thirteen again and you had blooming
sunshine in your face

you scaled trees, climbed rocks
skinned your knees
wild and as brazen as the first kiss you
stole from some girl
spattered freckles on her face
you counted with your lips
(you got to 14)

erected a monument
out of your garden but it was bare
your bones,
dried husks

who can pull you out of that water?
i can't...
neither can she...
a/n: an older piece that i performed some minor surgery on. i originally composed it two years ago on this day. it's not about me. this is about anyone struggling to love who doesn't adequately know how to. this is a plea. a question. a silent wondering. it's been a while. <3

enjoy
xoxo
Matthew Roe Aug 2018
I saw a gigantic tree.
Uprooted and on its side.
The great roots forming a mane for the snarling ringed face on the stump.
But the fallen beast is taken, it’s husk a Home.
A vibrancy of weevils, ladybugs, frog hoppers, Cockchaffers that’s skittering, scattered like a smashed ant farm.


Around its base were prehistoric ferns,
Curled and scaled like sand lizards’ tales.
Reminiscing the demise of the tyrannosaur.
When dust clouds darkened the sun which warmed their claws.
The skittering skinks, slow worms and other small lizards, who need far less to survive, then feasted upon the monsters’ flesh and found a home in its bone structured palace.

As whale sinks,
Distorted into a globster of its former self,
It hits the sea bed hard in oil-Black darkness.
The hagfish burrow, starved for millennia.
Brutally tearing at the befallen banquet.
Mouths used to scraps choking on steak.
Getting their guts knitted as they squirm over each other to grasp some sashimi.
Dripping saliva as if we’re sweat in the ruckus.

Yeti crab pinch, as do isopods
But get only mucus insulting their jaws.
And they thought they helped to cut up the portions.

Soon all that is left is a skeleton.
Hanging in a museum for future generations to see.

Once again, dust gathers, from bombed out sand.
Erupting in the air as giants hit the ground.
We may soon again see darkness fall.
As the rayiys is skinned.

But no tears are shed.
We all cheer none the less.
About the current (2010s) conflict in Syria, referring to how all hint brutes will fall (tree, T-Rex, Whale) and how those who were below them (Beetle, Lizard, Hagfish) will thrive now that they are gone.

extra-
'Globster'=a carcass washed up on a beach that can't be identified, often mentioned in cryptozoology.
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