I love your eyes,
Your eyes,
Your eyes like butterflies,
Like butterflies when we kiss,
We kiss,
We kiss like smouldering coals,
Like your eyes,
Smouldering coals,
Coals hot with passion,
Hot with passion raging,
Passion raging in loves glory,
In loves glory like fire,
Fire burning,
Fire burning in the forest,
Like forest fires,
The forest burns,
The forest burns for you,
Like a never ending story.

Lured by the siren voices of human aggrandizement,
The hedonistic, headlong pursuit of material satisfaction.
By the few who seek wealth and power
On a scale undreamed of
By the Caesars and Pharaohs
Or even by the lofty, pampered Imperialists
Of the heady nineteenth century.

Ignored, are the vast stinking, majority,
The teeming poor who sink deeper
Into the morass of hunger and wretchedness.
In circumstances of inescapable horror
Which breed hopelessness
And the smouldering hatred
Of lasting resentment and fear

A world of vast inequality.
Marshaled by the incorrigibly rich
In order to sate their selfish and aggressive
Lust for more.
An ideological evil
Which grips the lost and deprived
With the extinction of hope
And the rage to exact…a retribution.

Then there is the deterioration
Of international leadership,
The willingness or inability
Of world powers to control
Excess or anarchy within or without
Their borders…
Even whilst circling each other
With monstrous weaponry
And an engulfing, growing,
Antagonism of distrust.

America is in retreat to it’s fortress shores.
Europe is leaderless, timid and uncontactable.
Russia, near bankrupt, snarling aggression
And clawing back a buffer of unwilling former satellites.
Eurasia and the Middle East seething
With religious and racial warfare.
Africa in the throes of losing control
Of a world threatening Ebola pandemic.
China clawing it’s way forward
To global economic and military dominance.

A world without referees or rules
Where antagonistic giants force
The un-powerful to adopt
An  ultimatum of “either them or us”.
Where the threat of terrorism transcends borders every day,
Where genocidal practices and weapons of mass destruction,
Computer global anarchy and environmental depredation
Illustrate the growing volatility
Of a deteriorating world order.

There is a Paralysis of Will in mankind.
Anthropology, psychology and physiology
Recognise only one single human species.
But that species is impossibly fractionated….
By an entrenched pattern of conflict,
An inability to compromise,
A refusal to disperse wealth for the common good,
Global racial and religious disharmony and animosity
And a fundamental refusal to communicate
Proactively …at all.

The consequences of tolerating
And furthering this Paralysis of Will,
Shall lead mankind to an apocalypse.
The consequences of which,
Are just too terrible to contemplate.

Somehow we should, as one,
Engender… a common aspiration,
With a level of universal commitment,
To induce an attitude, a consciousness
Of great and abiding…
World Citizenship.

Realistic? …No!
Likely? …No!
Do you give it a snowballs chance in Hell? …Not this week!

Why?... The frailty of Human Nature!

M.
From just about as far away from everything as you can, thankfully, possibly get….
NEW ZEALAND.
20 September 2014

// she falls in love the same way that she falls apart; quickly and all at once.

tumbling into his outstretched palms with a startling intensity, his fists clench and she cries.

she wants him to hurt her, leave smouldering bruises around her neck. Force your fingers down her throat and make her beg. maybe this love; choking sounds and blood.

it’s almost funny, the fact that she still hasn’t learned yet; make him your everything and you will be left with nothing.

and it feels like hell, almost romantic.

her lips part in the dimly lit room, gasping for air.

that’s the thing, there is nothing he could do to her that she wouldn’t do to herself. hold a knife to her neck and watch her soul drip from her mouth

one rib at a time you snapped them all like twigs and complained that she made too much noise. too much,

too loud.

lungs swimming in fluid yet she breathes out flowers, because that’s what pretty girls do; that’s what you wanted isn’t it babe? beauty. perfection.

don’t let him inside your head, keep him between your thighs or else everything around you will become white noise; fading into the background.

go on, romanticise it. i dare you.

force its unwilling bones into a metaphor or a simile.

pretend that we fall apart into beautiful, tragic spectacles and simply glue the broken fragments back together

she sat in the dark with a cup of tea between her shaking hands, resisting the urge to split her veins over the white walls and string her organs from the ceiling like fairy lights.

wanting to die in the most violent of ways is a lot less convenient than it seems; an unholy addiction of the rawest degree.

darling, i’m sorry he made you feel like you are hard to love,

because loving you is the easiest thing in the world //

The first leaf born from the forests seeding. Birthing
What flourished, grew here today. Each woodland had
A keeper, a life born from seed to the fruit of souls.

Animals nourished this new born, language of each
Taught, spoken winds told her of what happened
Near and far the woodland was a majestic place.

Upon a staff the first leaf flourished free floating
Energies of the forest flowed, emanated from its aura.
The winds spoke and she listened staff  held in hand.

A light birthed from the sky had found ground and
Trees set ablaze in it anger, their cries heard felt, pain
As life was slowly turned to lifeless ash, she cried.

As her staff called upon elements, ground, water, air.
Each apart to platy as the stream did rise upon the
Banks water did touch her feet and the staff came down.

The vines did drop entwined in circular stance and water
Fed and rained out, quenching diluting flames anger.
The pain felt as smouldering now floating ash.

Her hand felt the orchard of blackened bark, some lost.
But in time new life would flourish where it fell, consumed
To ash before. A seed she settled where new birth given form.

She bowed to the forest for it guidance. A droplet feel from
The first leaf, a tear of sorrow for what was lost, nourishing,
Healing those not fallen bark did scar, reminders of before.

She walks among the trees, the winds talk too her, she laughs
Sometimes a joke maybe wind is funny that way, the cycle
Continues she is the guardian of first leaf, and then she walks.

oh but for a moment of sweet, foolish fun.

smouldering coals glow bright
with gentle touch.

a moment of young, lovely bliss,

a kiss shared -
a real one,
not the farce of hours prior -
from one who is interested.

conversation spills out,
and with it,
admiration, affinity,
some sense of belonging.

silly things, not heavy,
but light.
float above the damp night grass -
soar amongst the clouds gathering above.

push past the smoking remains of
the fire

up the stairs

laughter, smiles, warm skin

nobody's business but ours

In place of memories — embers.
Inextinguishable, yet untrue
to the fidelity of what was.
The smoky curlicues, too,
have been denied. That whiff
of the past. Smouldering,
it warms the prudent hand.
Sears the lingering one.

In place of you — embers.
Charcoal flake anklets at your feet.
Wrinkling, shrivelling.
Your impassive verse-marked
way of staying. But when asked
to disappear, become so
unwilling.

Buttercups Diversify!
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 19, 2013 at 11:46am
View Blog
Buttercups Diversify!

In peach tinted temple of time,
Painted in poetry's dreams,
We kiss, we talk, we ,
Writing leisure through pleasure and pain,

I laid on your bed,
You bathed my shoulders so sore,
Left me smouldering with desires for you,
You donated to me, while we played in daylights sweet kiss,
A sweet single bright buttercup,
Dressed in waxen yellow,
Precious petals sparkling, shining ,
Glowing in the afternoon, after laying on the the spiky dry grass,
After dancing had passed,

A garden full of dreamers dressed in pink and white, blessed with fragrance, pure.
Collected from a century of rose tree,
The tree had seen much over the years about a century I was told,
Witnessed bombings in the blitz,
Watched mother's father's children's kiss,

Flowers of such beauty, dressed with a drizzle of love's sensation tickles,
As the dance goes on!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted

Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless

Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble

You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly

Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible

I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion

After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles

After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge

In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel

In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs

Spring at her height on a morn at prime,
Sails that laugh from a flying squall,
Pomp of harmony, rapture of rhyme--
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
Winter sunsets and leaves that fall,
An empty flagon, a folded page,
A tumble-down wheel, a tattered ball--
These are a type of the world of Age.

Bells that clash in a gaudy chime,
Swords that clatter in onsets tall,
The words that ring and the fames that climb--
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
Hymnals old in a dusty stall,
A bald, blind bird in a crazy cage,
The scene of a faded festival--
These are a type of the world of Age.

Hours that strut as the heirs of time,
Deeds whose rumour's a clarion-call,
Songs where the singers their souls sublime--
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
A staff that rests in a nook of wall,
A reeling battle, a rusted gage,
The chant of a nearing funeral--
These are a type of the world of Age.

Envoy

Struggle and turmoil, revel and brawl--
Youth is the sign of them, one and all.
A smouldering hearth and a silent stage--
These are a type of the world of Age.

A kindling
A fire
An inferno
A pyre
Smouldering away within

A bitterness
A taste
A poison
Called fate
Combined and I might just sin

An explorer lives within me, smouldering
Beneath the opaque layers of my being.
She is at once a soul herself
And an inseparable force of my own.

This explorer knows no limits,
And obeys no law beyond those of physics.
She entertains no fear, for she has seen
The Divinity of her existence.

Oh, how I long to let her run wild!

In lumbering night shadows,
between burns by branding irons
like cigarettes,
We blister talking toungues
and reveal the soft flesh
of ourselves.
So easily, our embers
make incense of our arms
and red, wet, wounds
pool beneath the wrist.
We sat for time,
trying not to scab over;
smouldering our speech
with singeing ire.
Despite the heat,
we couldn’t help
but heal
as dawn cracked, and
in fire of the light,
with hammering heads,
we forged scars
for each other,
for each ever.

Strike a light.
Simple.
Imagine.
Should the great fire of London become again lit?
History.
Ablaze.
In the blink of an eye all gone.
Smouldering remnants.
All Britain’s yesterday’s destroyed.
Gone in a puff of green smoke.
A world of tourism gone in a flash.
Powers that be, think of the cash!
Loyal fire people out on strike.
Spent as matches, if you like!

Even the great fires of anywhere.
Firefighters all out on strike.
Support these souls of bravery.
Stand side by side in strength.
Stand in solidarity.
Far and wide.
Our nation great
No choices left.
Loss of life.
Our nation maybe falls again
(c) Livvi

sometimes a pit
gazing inchoate
smiling past it all

inès passes the mirror
a smouldering black shape

today i looked at no one

tomorrow i’ll arrive.

Well I was five minutes late, mum
Chucked me out the door,

"I have a letter from school mum,

"Been in trouble again, no change there,

I waited for the bus but never turned up

"Great she'll think I missed it on purpose,

I jumped on my bike, ill show her, no phone
Call saying I never turned up. I pedalled like
My lungs were going to burst, The school yard
Was empty  "Crap, "Crap, I ran in thinking
I was Late the doors lock at a certain time only
Opening in case of serious emergencies.

"Sorry I'm late Miss Hoper,
"The Bus never turned u.......,

The class was empty, I heard a noise from the store
Cupboard? I listened and heard moaning

"No way Miss Hoper is getting it on,

Was I early? had the clocks gone back and mum
Forgot? I giggled at the thought of catching her
With her silks around her ankles. Camera at the
Ready, 1, 2, 3.... OK don't be a chicken.
What can they say or do, 1, 2, 3.. I opened
The door clicking away 12mp clear as day.

"Miss Hoper surprise,

Dam Miss you look  "Fugly, not looking
Your best this morning.

"I'd say she was a six as far as teachers go,

Her hair was like a drunk had shaven in the dark,
"What big nails you have,
"What  sharp teeth you have,
"What the hell? how ***** you are this morning,

What was I doing I sounded like I was reading the
Three little pigs. Miss Hoper was the wolf.
I had a voice repeating in my head, but I looked
Beside her and saw the reason for the closed door.
**** Peterson was lying their, reaching out as
If he knew how this was playing out to the end.

She licked her tooth, her lacerated tongue bleed,
No pain more pleasure was on her face as she
Drank upon herself. I stepped back as I knew
That I was within her sights. Her fingers gestured
Across Micks throat and his hand slumped silently
On the ***** cupboard floor, his eyes emptily void.

That voice once again echoed out now screaming
Into my subconscious. This time I listened.

"Run, run, run....,

As she launched upon the area I once was, heading
For the door I glanced her movement. A step behind
As I slammed the door, the walls vibrated upon the
Lockers, as I saw the luck of the keys left in the door.
The teacher launched through the panels as glass, solid
Wood was the only deterrent from her tasting my throat.

I ran through the halls each class room locked, children
Tied to the desks gnawing on themselves in an effort to
Be free. Mr Freedman was hanging their, but fate his time
Continued as he with metal cord he hung and lower parts
Torn asunder he hung their only half a man.

"HELLO, HELLO, ANYONE
"Dam I'm just telling everyone lunch is here,

I instead whisper, their is thought in my madness.

"hello, hello,
"If your not a monster,

I wondered the halls, hearing moan I'd edge towards
I could hear them sniffing as if a scent was lingering
In the air. "Could they smell me? "I'd showered though,
I pressed my cheek against the wall, looking in to
My history class, well they were history all right.
Smouldering remains of god knows what.

"Hello.....,
"Is anyone not crazy,
"What am I thinking of course they'll say no,

Looking for my prom date, is their even going
To be one at this rate? I looked in the girls locker
Room.
"What don't give me that look,
Shelly you in there is whispered, then I sneezed

"O' crap O' crap these halls echo like a church steeple,
"Just ignore that ok,

I see a foot then the faces of cheerleaders, but these
Weren't the girls I knew twisted forms tails protruding
And hair, like they have digressed to a early form,

"No not shelly,
"She was 9 now a 2.0,

She sees me, head tilts then the call, her fingers point.
That voice didn't have to scream, I was gone.
I could hear them, I wasn't looking where I was going
And clothes lined someone.

"What the hell dude,
"You ran in to me,

Your normal,
But your, I saw you dead?

"What you mean dead?
"Down that hall, eyes gouged out,

And with that a shiver like someone had
Just mosh pitted on my grave, I heard them
I went to run, down the hall, but heeded his
Story *"dude hurry up run,

"I cant my ankles all buckled,

A second later I was in the lockers, lucky I'm
Skinny, they were upon him in moments.
Their tales swinging around in the air as though
They were playing with him. Then tails wrapped
Upon him legs, arms, neck they purred and
Claws dug in as if to get a running start.....

Blood, so much blood, I bit on my jacket to cover
My scream, I  was lucky his body tore up in
Such noise that I was unseen. they took of parts
Kept for trophies or munchies who knew?
I ran down the hall, I turned and tripped over
Something? I looked down it was me...

"What the..., what the....,
"How could this be,

Then flashes in my mind, I was here when it
Started, "I turned first, I opened my mouth
And expelled it, I watched others consumed.
I locked the rooms and through a key hole
I gestured it in. watched the madness mutate
Them in to me, "I watched..

But how did I end up here?

"Think, think,

I ran down this hall, and I ran in to me,
What the hell is going on I look, into the
Trophy case, I see something not me?
I look at myself eyes void only darkness
A shell, I enter two digits in. "Empty,
I look back as I see me, but others also.

I realize I'm an echo like these halls, I fade
Into the darkness as I realize it wasn't me.

"Just memories of other mixed in with me.

"I should have played hookie today,

But now I'm empty and its roaming the halls
looking for its next feed...

Why do we strive to be something we're not? Why do girls wish they were tall, tan, skinny and blonde? Why do we alter our bodies to make sure we look a certain way? Because that's what the TV, magazines, movies, and models all tell us is beautiful. The media's definition of beauty is a skinny girl with mile-long legs, big ***** and an amazing ***, all topped off with perfectly tanned skin, a flawless complexion, long flowing tresses, big, **** smouldering eyes and wonderfully plump lips. But in all honesty, what are the odds of someone looking like this with absolutely no surgical alterations to their body? Slim, my friend. It PAINS me to see so many girls try to attain this level of "beauty" that is so accepted by our society. The medial has such influence in our lives, and unfortunately, we listen. We think that their definition of beauty is right and attainable and "We can look just like celebrities with the help of THIS special product!" I wish I didn't see ten year-old girls already trying so hard. They're wearing barely-even-there shorts, low tops that reveal nothing but a flat chest, hair that's already been dyed, makeup that's way too heavy, and they do this because they think they'll be pretty if they look like the ******* the cover of Seventeen Magazine. "If I look like her then maybe my crush will finally notice me and think I'm beautiful!"
Sweetie, you're ten. Stop trying and go have fun. I want to climb somewhere up high and have every single female in the world as my audience, no matter what their age, listening to my voice. I would tell them to ignore our society's definition of beauty because it's just WRONG. You're GORGEOUS the way you are! Don't change that! How can we try to look like the girls on magazines when they're photoshopped so much that they're hardly recognizable? That is fake beauty - that's the kind made by a team of expert bullshitters. They photoshop and photoshop until they are happy with the beautiful monster they have created. They do this to make all the girls look "better." Why does she need to look better if she's already perfect how God made her? There's no way we can possibly look like those girls, because what you see on the cover, isn't what's there in real life. But why do we still try to look like them even if we know the truth about the team of magazine editors? Because we're not happy. We're not satisfied. We're not content with ourselves physically, so maybe if we try harder to look "better," we'll feel better about ourselves. Now don't get me wrong, I don't see anything wrong with doing things like working out, eating right, and taking care of yourself physically so that you feel feel better about yourself and gain confidence. But where so many women and girls go wrong is they abuse the things that help you improve your overall health or looks. They try so hard to fit a certain stereotype that doing these things eventually becomes unhealthy. There is no amount of throwing up, exercising, or eating like a  bird that will give you confidence. That comes from within. That comes from being happy with yourself and how you look. When we finally accept the woman God created each of us to be, then that confidence will follow soon after. We have to accept the fact that God made us the way we are for a reason. I am made in God's image - I am fearfully and wonderfully made. We are ALL made in God's glorious image and we are ALL fearfully and wonderfully made. So stop trying to change your looks. You weren't meant to look like the girls on the magazines. You were meant to look like YOU. And honey, lemme tell ya: you're gorgeous. So embrace not just your outer beauty, but your inner beauty as well. At the end of the day, looks will fade, but personality is something you're stuck with forever. So make sure that you can stand to be around yourself. And don't let the media and society dictate how you should look - don't buy their lies. God is absolutely in love with YOU. He loves you - not the media's twisted, altered version of you. We were all made uniquely, so let's embrace our unique beauty. Let the world's view and opinions bounce off you, their lies reaching deaf ears. You don't need them. You need to look in the mirror, see God's handiwork and appreciate it. He loves you more than you could ever fathom, and guess what? Impurities and all, God still thinks you are soooo beautiful. And in the end, His opinion is the only one that really matters.

From Shisha with Love

The room was dark as I entered
Like a tangled pipe, I twisted, turned, and stumbled to my seat
That’s when I saw her, everything was suddenly bright
My eyes struck her creating a spark, she set me alight

Her head had all the flavour, her hair the fiery glow
Her eyes sweet like double apples, and her mouth mulish like mint
She was, so tall, so fine, so slender
The combination of cute and ****, any man would surrender

The path to the glow was clear, I couldn’t let this opportunity pass
Every advance I took towards her I inhaled and exhaled a little deeper
Like a shooting star in the night, I had to make my wish come true before the star strays
I found myself immersed in smoke I had lost my way; where was the star, the glow the blaze?

I began coughing and blowing the smoke away, and there she was
In my brief moment of vertiginous, the pipe was in another palm
The once fresh flavours became harsh, and the fiery flame was now smouldering
Like a coal that had lost its grey coat that protected its fragile warmth was now mouldering

Take a deep breath and let it go.

@BengGeorge

I love lighthouses;
Lonely, desolate, cold
Grown out of rocky outcrops
Designed by monolithic architects,
Where only ascetic souls can call home
Their light, a beacon in the darkness
To protect sailors from the smouldering sea,
And all her whiles and trickery
One lonely light, that shines out
Like faith, like hope, like love
So mariners will not plot a course
Into the shallow depths of death,
Book a room in Davy Jones’ Locker.

I was the canvas, as were you
One canvas to each other
and on the wall
with knees underneath
indecent exposure
naked mind of mine

Flushed out edges of this unique bedspread
a shower curtain used as a tablecloth
used as an ashtray

This was her only wedding dress
Wedding dress two dollars and seventeen cents
value market discount white sale

Found in the back when
suddenly everything was zebra stripes
and she was already ten minutes late

But what is time to a pack of teeth?
A high-ceiling filled with nostrils and bat claws
smouldering tar-stained enamel
fits nicely on the frayed corners
of her tablecloth underwear
and brushed away the ashes
leaving half-finished highways
and dark-stained alleys
and brooding courtships

She missed her basement apartment
and the way no one took her seriously
and the Grand Finale!
and riding high
and the blue ribbons
that sometimes came with last place
and windows and pillows
darkened sleep patterns with silver eyes
half-moon Iris

She isn’t home anymore
She left for a smoke
and the sidewalk took her

Michael Sinclaire/Mary Fahey. March 2013.

Watching through an empty window,
He broke his pain on the tears that fell
From his face

Like glass, they hit the ground and shattered
And his groans went unheard by the people
Who passed outside

It was not normal, this obsession, he thought,
Pulling another cigarette from his case, and
Setting it alight.

He watched it burn: burn long and strong,
The ash gathered grey on the end of the smouldering stick
Then fell to join the water
On the floor.

Who am I, he thought again, what do I do?
There were no answers to these questions.
He was in this empty house, overlooking the lawns,
Breaking the dawn with a glass of whisky
And a bottle of wine.

There was nothing left for him here.

I write this little narrative
and shall endevour to be brief,
for events that I unburden
may never gain of true belief.
I put to you dear reader
that tomorrow I shall die
for the events that so destroyed me
but with this wording I will try.

As a child I was so happy
and being of good disposition.
I had a fondness for all creatures,
so to care for was my mission.
With my pets as my companions
that such a pleasure is the truth.
I cared, fed and caressed them,
this was the model of my youth.

Into manhood I was pleasant.
A woman sent from God above.
Such a bride that shared my passion
of such animals I love.
Love flourished inside our home life
Our demeanour was one of that,
so we puchased gold fish and a rabbit,
a small monkey and black cat.

'Pluto' purred a lovely song,
readilly did steel my heart.
He was large, soft and so loving
and from my side was hard to part.
This large black cat worried my wife
as superstitions do so cast.
Though it slackened seriousness
as ancient ideals do not last.

Seven years we were intent
until my character did start to change.
Temperament was quick to follow,
my personality grew strange.
The demon drink was now a worry
when my wife would feel my knuckle.
For one moment I was raged
and the other I would chuckle.

One night upon my return
witha drunken mans' complexion.
Pluto wanting nothing from me
felt irate of rough connection.
Reluctantly he beared down his claw
as from my grasp he tried to fly
and as my blood did slowly trickle
I removed my knife and then his eye.

As the daylight light gave its shine
from the excesses of last eve's gin.
I from remorse supped in excess
Trying to drown this evil sin.
I was weak and so un-trying
lashing out at one and all.
No longer in control of
it seemed my destiny to fall.

Pluto recovered this ordeal,
though eye-less socket was my gift.
I could not be so surprised,
as on my approach he would fly swift.
No longer was he my ally.
No longer was he my friend.
No longer did I drink the *****
but this avoidance would soon end.

He still attended this abode
Wandering with one eyed navigation
Although I felt the pangs of grief
Grief soon changed to irritation.
One morning I did slip a noose
Around poor Pluto's scraggy throat
I hung him from a tree outside
drinking a bottle whilst I gloat.

Against the laws of God I ******
In satisfaction I do wallow
Excuse is this intrusive substance
My own forgiveness do I swallow.
Evil, horror and unkind
Depravity is what I think
These thoughts float freely around my mind
All conjured up from Demon drink.

That night such cruel deed had been done
for something happened so unfair.
As I awoke, my home in flames.
My wealth all gone I felt despair.
On visiting the smouldering ashes
that once I could call my address.
I found almost complete destruction
as i surveyed this total mess.

I came upon just one exception.
The wall where once had stood my bed
A crowd had gathered for some reason,
suprise to me it must be said.
Curiosity drew me closer
To see what they gazed at
and as if graven in bas relief
the figure of a gigantic cat.

Such accuracy it must be said
Stood proudly within the wreck
Above where my head used to rest
A rope about the creature's neck.
When I beheld this apparition,
for scarcely could I regard it less.
feeling terror to the extreme,
drew upon me such untold stress.

I came to think about that night
When fires rage was at its most
That someone must of free'd the feline
Cut it down from hanging post.
Perhaps then thrown through open window
With view to raising me from sleep
Compressed my **** fresh in new plaster
a burnt portrait for me to keep.

Such great impression on my mind.
Phantasms thought could not forget.
feeling such insincere remorse
I chose to search for similar pet.
Whilst I frequented vile haunts
with painstaking examination,
decided cat should be of similar look.
I did not want emancipation.

In a den of vile infamy
Half stupified I sat
When something claimed of my attention
In the form of a black cat.
Hazily I reeled in shock
Was this Pluto in my sight
Until after greater examining
I noticed a splodge of white.

I thought for just one moment
My mind was setting me a test
For Pluto was as black as soot
But this **** wore a white breast.
He came to me immediately
Upon me he did laize
I purchased him right there and then
I smothered him with love and praise.

My wife did so adore this cat.
But for myself after some time
Much love did turn again to loathing
and its presence cringed my spine.
The reason came the next day on
as Inhebriated I was no more
I saw that he had just one eye.
So shocked was I, I think I swore.

My wife was in a happy state
Thinking that my life had changed
Back to my old and wanted ways
Before my life became deranged.
The white mark upon the felines breast
over time appeared to define
Into a picture so distintive.
A Gallows was this eerie sign.

My sanity was in unsolid state
This creature soon to be bereft
Supporting a badge of owners crime
over its Agony and Death.
This brute of similar attribute
To he I had once destroyed,
tormented and most worried me.
My vengeance would not be denied.

My temperence was as a beast
With furious tempers flare
I almost abandoned all this strife
without so much as single care.
One day on household errand
on my brow this cat shone tax.
Whilst in the cellar with the *****
I tried to **** it with an axe.

Guarded by my faithfull wife,
I still remember what she said
Leave this poor dumb creature be.
I left the axe inside her head.
Such ****** was not deliberate
I could not resolve that this be real
but after contemplative time
I knew this crime I must conceal.

I pondered long what course to take
I could not move her by day or night,
must be accomplished down below
to keep this body far from sight.
Encasing her behind the wall
as monks once did in bygone age.
Surrounded now with morter and brick
it was the most solid of cage.

Before the last brick was replaced
I searched the house for Pluto's clone.
No sign was found of one eyed tom,
my persecutor had gone to roam.
I looked with pride at job well done.
Such rendering was no disgrace,
nothing toward had happened here
with everything nicely in its place.

I searched again to find the beast
he that to me did not impress.
Although I'd killed I slept so tranquil.
My mood did qualm and I felt fresh.
Second and third days came and went
But feline never made a show
He must of truly read my mind
Decided safer he should go.

The fourth day after assassination,
Police came around this place to delve.
After a most intense exploration,
suspiscion they decide to shelve.
In my triumph I did take on pride,
I pointed out this house so stout
and taking up my wooden cane
I gave the wall a hearty clout.

May the lord deliver me
from the fangs of acrid friend.
For squeeling came from beyond that wall
leaving my secret at an end.
In my haste to hide my sin,
I hid the corpse and cleared the room
It seems the brute had never gone
Instead it hid inside the tomb.

Here I stand in readiness
these gallows wanting company
and with this rope around my neck
it seems my wife I will soon see.
If only ego had refrained
and with that cane I'd caused no fuss,
perhaps they may never of heard
the reply from that old black ****

define warmth for me, so that I comprehend
because I've been rubbernecking, though I reside here
and your greenhouse effect affects me not

I'm caught in a position of longing, but it is less of a yearning and more of an ambition
because I'd do utterly anything to feel the spark of embers
the sort of glow that old remember and young magnify

too often I'm hearing a climatic affair of the strong brought to knees
before being enveloped by a numbness that eases their burden
more often I am enraged by their weakness: disgusted by their vulnerability
or perhaps it's jealousy
from one who never felt the urge at the starter's pistol
it's hard to pity when the Arctic's all you've known

and maybe it's not fair
but who are you to say so
because I won't undergo your tragedy
and you won't fathom mine...
quit your babbling - it's all a mind game
and your wailing drives me wild
honestly, promise me nothing because keeping oath requires a fervor
which only comes with fire and you've the ability to find it despite your cold
but behold - that smouldering - I've never even felt it

still I can feel a trickle of pride
at your dab of effort when your arms encircled me
but dearest, I shivered
petrified, I sobbed because you were so close and blazing
while I was freezing
and that girl across the road sensed the calidity, unbuttoned her jacket and handed it over
to a man on the sidewalk in snowfall
he felt from her what she felt from you
you put scalding verses my glacial
green eyes were hopeful; my brown, resigned
I was worlds away from neutral

this ice has not enslaved me
make no illusion that there's a stand still
because I've yet to find the frosty pillar that might halt this endeavor for fire
on the streets I see vessels radiating my craving
and I wonder
by what method did they reach their warm condition
but at below 0
I suppose all you see is warms bodies.

The presence of a certain mood
an undercurrent smouldering
gestures quietly observed
concentration hindering

Overtly calmly melancholic
a truth has been concealed
feelings are in turmoil
but nothing is revealed

Intense the sense of grief
held deeply in her soul
passively she sleeps
her heart no longer whole

No tears will ever fall
they are proudly held inside
she never makes a call
and in no one she confides

Distance long and wide
connection unsustainable
inward closing mechanism
defines the unexplainable

The smouldering undercurrent
of the present mood
quietly gestures inward
turning to a brood

Bleak the rays shattered through broken panes
life, dust, dust,  future and smoke
automobiles and gunshots solitary this hour
when screams rend the air, not my turn today -
no, not as yet. Mother, I want to rest my head
in your lap. Can I weep?

Cactus in my soul, I ask, Can I, all that I am?
Lust is the death of man. Gouge your eye that lusts.
Broken void of my afterdays, that mourn
like the wind on the dunes

         Mother, I am well. There is love, there is hope, light
         hidden like nuggets in piles of the dark.
         Mother, I must be well.

It was the other night. Nightmare in loop.
Shamed, stripped beaten violated.
I am in a well, deep pit, drained
of all the essence of light
I can hear your voice echoing with the ray
shattered tumbling down the walls

free, free I am the wind mourning in the dunes
can you tame the wind?

        In the depths, and in the deaths islanding life
        mirage of oases, Mother, I have found him,
        my Senor, to whom I give my ring

Violate me, visage of the abyss,
burn me, but can you find me?
beat me, chain me, but can you enslave me?
I am not here in these nerves and veins.
I am all of Augusta, America,
I fly in the Masts above the skies

Sweet Lord, I see you have deemed heaven
for me, no purgatory but here.
I accept, I surrender, I submit. To thy will.

            Mother, do not negotiate. I am strong.

Where in my naked body have you found me?
here, in these bruises, have your embers soothed?
I am the Lamb that does not cower.
I haunt your soul as guilt.
In what little's left of it.

He finds you in the catacombs where
I haunt the crypts that no vicar penetrates.
When all is lost, when death is certain at the sea,
there opens a way and I will walk out

           Mother, I am coming. Have faith, for faith maketh.
           I hold you here in my *****, smouldering pain,
           that gets me to wake every haunting day.
           Every day that brings the sound of darkness home.

*I fly in the Masts above the skies.
Tame me, I am the wind breaking the dunes.
Ilohi, lema sebachtani sebachtani

I live in the mountains
Middle of no where
I'm all alone tonight
It don't seem fair
Yet I see the stars
Shining so **** bright
Every last little one
Giving off a speck of light
Each one a part of something greater
Each one a piece of what's real
I don't know what YOU are feeling
But that's how I wanna feel
Like I actually belong here
Like I'm not living for myself
Like there's some bigger out there
Like I'm as special as everyone else
I want my light to shine that bright
A smouldering sky for YOU to see
I just wish that someone out there
Was making a wish to have me

The smell of sulphate,
            emanating from that
accursed thing, its aura glistened,
                  seemingly smouldering .

But when the  breath of life
                    died beneath sunset,
A Spector of ill conceived retention
                                             contemplated.



Daybreak was mutilated upon the sight.
                                            established placidity..

As I walk through the rain
I wonder to myself "Is there love out there?"
I've been through all this pain
Life so far has not been fair
I wanna find someone strong and good
Someone to actually care

Just what has life come to
Walking in the rain despaired
Tormented by the things they do
And now my soul is impaired
Need to find something true
Freedom from a life ensnared

I want a boy. No, I need a man
This lonely life has lasted too long
I want someone to hold my hand
And sing me a loving song
Maybe hold my umbrella too
Why is that so wrong?

I need something. No, someone
To help me clarify this lie
I want a woman who won't run
When she looks into my eyes
Someone to mend the damage done
An angel to quell my smouldering skies

I need eyes of an emerald green
With depths I feel in my core
The poetic man from my dreams
Not like the men from before
Who've simply thrown me away
And walked right out the door

Wouldn't benign eyes be nice
Hands to calm shattered nerves
Giving up on rolling dice
Want to find my heaven deserved
An open heart does so entice
I don't think it sounds so absurd

He would have been hurt in the past
But I could show him what love means
Showing him my heart is my mask
And I'm obviously an angel from his dreams
I will slowly mend his broken soul
That's been battered and ripped at the seams

*I will be her saving grace
Repair both her angelic wings
I have dreamed of her face
She's the one whom settles things
Her heart I will lovingly trace
For as long as forever brings