"torches" poems
I.
the emperor
sleeps in a palace of porphyry
which was a million years building
he takes the air in a howdah
of jasper beneath saffron
umbrellas
upon an elephant
twelve foot high
behind whose ear
sits always a crowned
king twir-
ling an
ankus of
ebony
the fountains of the emperor’s
palace run sunlight and
moonlight and the emperor’s
elephant is a thousand years old
the harem of
the emperor
is carpeted with
gold cloth
from the
ceiling(one
diamond timid
with nesting incense)
fifty
marble
pillars
slipped from immeasurable
height,fall,fifty,silent
in the incense is tangled a cool moon
there are thrice-three-hundred
doors carven of chalcedony and
before every door a naked
****** watches
on their heads turbans of a hundred
colours
in their hands scimitars like windy torches
each
is
blacker than oblivion
the ladies
of the emperor’s
harem are queens
of all the earth and the rings
upon their hands are from mines
a mile deep
but the body of
the queen of queens is
more transparent
than water,she is softer than birds
2.
when the emperor is very
amorous he reclines upon
the couch of couches and
beckons with
the little
finger of his left
hand
then the
thrice-three-hundredth
door is opened by the tallest
****** and the queen
of queens comes
forth
ankles
musical with large pearls
kingdoms in her ears
at the feet of
the emperor a cithern-
player squats with
quiveringgold
body
behind
the emperor ten
elected warriors with
bodies of lazy jade
and twitching
eyelids
finger
their
unquiet
spears
the queen of queens is dancing
her subtle
body weaving
insinuating upon the gold cloth
incessantly creates patterns of sudden
lust
her
stealing body ex-
pending gathering pouring upon itself stiffenS
to a
white thorn
of desire
the taut neck of the citharede wags
in the dust the ghastly warriors
amber with lust breathe
together the emperor,exerting
himself among his pillows throws
jewels at the queen of queens and
white money upon her nakedness
he
nods
and all
depart through the bruised air aflutter with pearls
3.
they are
alone
he beckons,she rises she
stands
a moment
in the passion of the fifty
pillars
listening
while the queens of all the
earth writhe upon deep rugs
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i see the words floating on
message boards or perched
upon the lips of jocular hypocrites
double-standards that demand
sensual chastity and virginal sexuality
in endless iterations of irony
the concussive
monosyllabic words
slung like stones
cast like arrows
****
*****
*****
all labels for
women possessed of
the courage to pursue
their own passion
once upon a time a
Nazarene insisted a ********** had
more integrity than a rich
statesman throwing self-serving parties
so tell me why so
many Christian politicians
propagate patriarchal notions of depravity
in blanket attempts to regulate
the bodies of women
if being anti-choice was really
about preventing abortions
why do rich right-wing conservative
Republicans spend all their time
and money picketing free clinics
when the solution lies in comprehensive
****** education universal healthcare
complimentary birth control
and comprehensive child support
don't dare use the reprehensible
rhetoric of pro-life unless you're
at once anti-war
and anti-death penalty
riddle me this
what pray tell is the
difference between a jealous
religious misogynist
and a secular sexist
it's rather simple actually
while the former bases his
slut-shaming on the edicts of
a two thousand year old letter to
the Corinthians inconspicuously
sandwiched between a celebration of
love and a section on speaking in tongues
the latter’s learned behavior is
birthed by a hyper-masculine culture
grounded in dominance
either way we await the day
when wild women raze
these ideologies
with torches before
rising like phoenixes
from the ashes of
decimated passages
dismissed by intellectuals
as archaic and outmoded
deaf blind and dumb to
the vestiges of modernity
that sap unscientific
philosophies of their potency
and render them utterly obsolete
in their wake
these proud women
erase the hate
from words like
****
*****
*****
and reclaim equality
with a far more
comprehensive term
feminist
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Incarcerating women's wombs
Justifying men's genes
Foreigners appropriating
Women's and men's sexualities
Losing the power to be
When changing our roles' long overdue
Gendering our words and attitudes
Man, who taught you to be a chauvinist!
Woman, who taught you to be a *********
Don't put your god in gendered bigotry
Do man's emotions feminize him?
When will women freely carry torches!
What gender do you assign this voice?
What gender do you assign this words?
Will the masses even understand these choices?
Don't worry, my sexuality won't infect you
Criminalizing sexuality
Placing it front and center, implying that's all I am
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Being bled onto
The landscapes between thighs
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Because men and women of society
Full of stride, take pride, in their gendered hyde
Graffiti, defiling the masses not high classes
Ignored hoods, barrios, countrysides, ghettos, projects
Devouring women's and men's bodies
Younger and younger people falling to HIV/AIDS and STDS
Vaginas receiving the violence, wombs bringing misery
LGBT youth ****** into fire
Lost males (in mental chains) ****** to assert their manhoods
Graffiti, Graffiti, Graffiti
Full of dangerous chemicals, being sprayed onto
The landscapes between thighs
Attempting to legislate our stories, without warrant
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
when you asked me about certainty
and if my mind was a tree
rooted in cement and truth
i was on my unaccustomed knees
blinking into a sunbeam's architecture when
the brilliant wind brought you to me
to cure me with the miracle touch
i was alone by a window dreaming through glass
you bent toward me in a mile wide sky
a butterfly with a skinny voice
or an adorable tomato in a retail uniform
before that i only knew the clouds
as bears wrapped in pastel baby-blankets
before i first kissed you in the street
i knew the sunset as a drop of fire
in a barrel of whiskey and
suddenly your eyes like a deep pool in a forest
seeking out my past with the molecular traces
of your fingers across my abdomen
mandalas blooming out of our palms
only touching at the fingers
as flames from mosquito torches filled
the round coral faces of my gauges
with apricot light
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
Gaunt in gloom,
The pale stars their torches,
Enshrouded, wave.
Ghostfires from heaven's far verges faint illume,
Arches on soaring arches,
Night's sindark nave.
Seraphim,
The lost hosts awaken
To service till
In moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,
Raised when she has and shaken
Her thurible.
And long and loud,
To night's nave upsoaring,
A starknell tolls
As the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,
Voidward from the adoring
Waste of souls.
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*Angel torches
filter sunlight
across a vast
horizon
of sea foam
petticoats.
Where
topaz touches
glittering
cyan
&
spirals
downwards
through the
deepest dark
blues - no body
can exist within
jewelled sapidity.
*
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Fatima Latima
I had wished I had no gift of sight
That the worst I could endure is hear you speak
And not snapshot the footfall of your gradation
You may not be a thief
Nor **** daughter of the dayspring
But definitely my heart you stole
I speak of the daughter of Arabia
Aesthetically, she rocks
The queen of the pilgrim sands
And aeonian desert stones
Beyond the hijab
Artistically knead with consummate craft
Like the relics of Mecca
Blest by the prophet’s bones
The blessed
I see torches
Beaming with intelligence
Within those mascaras
Exquisitely trimmed and vibrant
A lulu class botany
She fixes a searching gaze
As she saunters close
And the stride and tread
Beats a drum entrancing
Soothed in her solacing spell
I give in, to her lullaby
She halts her perambulation
Stands magniloquent and stupefy
Like some pop diva magazine pose
Or Victorian secret shot
A tactical derangement of her gluteals
As she rests her palm in its cleft
I feel contractions, my dartos muscles
The blew of summertime
Gently beats her exceptional form
Her belt submerge her thigh crevice
Cleft by the sundered rift of fleshy fat
Built by the dainties and delicacies
Seasoned by the finest Arabian chef
As her silken dress slithers and gowns
Under the breeze bulging and blooming
Like a rose blossom or sunflower fore
As she bends down
To assuage the burlesque
The sun specula lilts her sensational
Her smile apologetic bids me stillness
I am caught staring
Guzzling down her scent and
Feasting on empty imaginations
Of What If that accentuate the mind and
Speed a hormone
And I pray I sin no more
Next time we meet and I see her again
For I am but a writer
Learning to use my pen and paper
And hope you but forgive
My linguistic impotence
When I make my confession
Employing too plain a language
When I say thus;
Her smile is classical
Her walk magical
Her beauty celestial
Her stride sensational
Her religion ethical
Her character spotless
And that leaves me breathless
And forgive if I step on broken toe
And try speak of the unspoken
Her ****** is sacred
Her being a type that dresses up
In the milliards of brutes dressing down
And shamelessly style it fashion
I must see a priest
One confession I ought to utter
And even vociferate abroad
For once I had fallen in love
With an Arabian Beautie
A ****** of Mecca.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:12 AM UTC
The sun
Is glad to see your face,
Your unseen grace,
Your Hidden space,
Your
Silhouette now covered in sun beams.
It seems
You've been
Packed away for a very long time
Its almost a crime how you've
Shielded yourself from his hydrogenity.
The sun
Is glad to see your smile
Your pearly whites
And colorless lips
Soft,
Too cold,
needing,
Craving,
warmth.
His
Golden fingers graze your cheek
And Bring life back to your pallor.
Who knew
Living as a recluse would make you so blue,
So unidentifiable?
He Brings you back from the dead
Pulling your soul back out
into your flesh.
Fresh
And healed,
At least Temporarily
But it
is enough,
His touch,
To liven your now tanning skin
To Make you akin to his own:
A sunflower
Trapped in the dark
3 inches tall instead of 3 feet
Now starting to grow beyond skyscrapers with his aid,
if his light is what's causing you to
Stand up straight
His heat is what is reviving your heartbeat
A Crescendo from silence to a slight pitter patter
Almost as soft as rain.
Almost as if crying.
If you listen hard enough,
You just might hear it wimpering, waking up from it's hibernation.
It
Wants to go back to sleep
But he
Refuses to give up his efforts of recesitation
For he knows it isn't for naught,
For he knows that it is working,
Your heart stirring
Beating
Louder as you step further out of the door frame
Let him
Cradle your soul with his firey hands
Let him
Bring you back from the dead.
You Look so much more alive when you let him work his magic on you.
The world
Has missed you.
Looking around,
Your mind starts whirring,
Analysing The outside world.
The Green of the grass and the
Blue of the sky,
All Graces of the solar angel shining over you,
Shining into you.
Giving you sight,
Giving you life,
Giving you the things you couldn't have before.
Let his
Golden happiness seep into your freezing bones,
And,
Turn them into torches
And burn brighter, in the daylight
Than you ever did in the darkness.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
Went down, slippery cold stairs
Spiraling down, words on walls,
The paper sheets?
Heard the music down there...
Down... Down...
I've heard it before;
Down... Down... Rumble down...
An underground celebration,
So I went - down.
(the cave)
Infants were there, dark rooms,
Bathing in the boiling red wine,
Laughing madly in the fumes,
The ceiling and walls were moist and dripping.
These babies, visages of chimera,
Evil grins cutting their faces,
Evil smiles, gruesome masks
and cigars in their hands, claws...
-Stop!!!
This I will unleash,
One day, whiskey, liqours,
Yeah.
Beers, drinks... rumbling.
Calm dark surface of the lake
At night
And the carnival nearby,
Mile away or so...
you can hear their sounds,
muted slightly;
faint lights of torches,
at the other side of lake.
Weird tribesmen
Praising the summer solstice
With howls, maracas,
Tiny bells, dance,
Fire.
-But listen to me now!
Now, when you hear me,
Look here, look closely.
Put your hand in me,
Can't you feel I'm almost boiling?
I'm no mud, I'm a clear water,
Almost as a spring!
Swift and clear - and hot.
and dark.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
*In memory of, and with respect to the victims of the 2011 terrorist acts in Norway.
As the weather resembles, one remembers...*
Perhaps if you went to my school,
You'd have gotten beaten up for your egocentricity
Long before it grew to such deranged preportions.
As misplaced as the runes you carved into Glock and rifle;
You'd have been not only estranged, but broken.
Disarmed decades before detonation.
Alas. A distorted berserker you ploughed through
Establishments and hearts; an armed teenager fuelled on
Video games, soft candy and steroids.
Pity the nation that nurses such an unpoetic national enemy.
We forgot your name and face, as you never knew ours.
The symbol we chose was an ocean of roses,
Like torches held to our love unharmed.
Norwegian leap year two-thousand-eleven;
Only twenty-two days in July.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
To Selene:
Rare a night, her gentle grace is not seen;
Live long torches, shamed, by her beauty’s gleam!
The Queen of night, my heart, she reigns supreme.
Floating high in deep, black lakes of my dreams,
Softly she gazes down past thick and thin;
Distant is her love as we skin to skin;
Fooled, my fervent stretch is never within,
Her affection for me, I’ll never win.
My heart, her misfortune can only reap
This last choice—wound us both more than my weep!
For her sympathy, my eternal sleep!
Now like me, may her woe forever keep.
By day miss her and dream of her by noon
Forever, rest in heart, my dear honey, moon
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 7:29 PM UTC
Walking into the woods
I stared at giant redwood trees
The leaves being crushed under my feet
I sat beside the wise tree and looked up into the moon
Listening to the cries of overhead flying loons
The silence was a sound itself, it was strange to hear myself think for once
I sat there reading and thinking until down went the sun,
I got up and left my small haven in the woods, returning to My meager shelter
Torches ablaze as I returned home
It calmed my inner helter-skelter
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
Snarling, fangs shining, moonlight illuminating ferocious beasts,
limbs tangling, separating, lunging, caught within deadly battle.
Scarlet streams trickle from trees gouged like the bellies of their prey,
canine fiends bare their teeth, their growls like black thunder,
facing these soulless demons smeared with the blood of many.
Bodies drop with screams still rattling inside their rib cages,
demons devouring with rage that can never be quenched,
their hearts ripped from their chests, veins slit,
arteries torn mercilessly out of still warm flesh.
Creatures created from pure insanity that breed nothing but anger,
fear and despair, children's corpses torn apart, their skulls shattered.
Snapping of jaws still slimed with internal juices,
bits of raw flesh clinging to hair that shimmers under the blood red moon.
Hissing from the shadows, knotted into frenzied war,
animated corpses beside twisted bodies of wolves,
wounds gushing ruby tears, still pulsing organs shredded.
Flames rush from overturned fires,
shrieking forms, torches wavering through darkness.
Pale beings gather for the finale,
blood spatters across ground, staining everything within it's reach.
Only two are left, facing each other in the coming dawn.
Heaps of creatures litter this burned, bloodied ground, none alive.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
Feelings are within you
In your deepest heart and soul
Feelings are felt and seen
By those who only feel for you
Feelings unheard troubles the mind
Feelings unread torches the softest heart
Feelings unvoiced torments your soul..
Feelings uninterpreted, unanswered...
Killing you.. killing you softly , suicidal love..
Feelings are words unspoken
Feelings are invisible touches
Feelings are unseen caresses..
Feelings are shared dreams unfulfilled
But feelings are continuous...
Reflections of heart, life, love and soul...
Hidden feelings ... pathetic souls
Blinded kisses... numb and cold..
Unveil... unveil...
Let the magical love be revealed....
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
We once burned witches...
No.
We burned people who were accused
of being witches or practicing witchcraft...
never proven but still burned....
burned alive...
wether or not they were witches
will remain unknown
and why should it
have mattered if they were,
what excuse was that to have
behaved so maliciously hateful and cruel
I will tell you this though
if I had been a witch
or knew any kind of witchcraft
the first thing i would have done
is work out a fire proof charm
perfected an unburnable spell
an I can walk through the fire
and feel a hell of a lot better
after doing so spell
a my blood and bones
burn hotter than the sun spell
a you better get that
little matchstick outta my face spell
before I show you how to burn
THE REAL MONSTERS here spell
the monsters with the lust
to watch flesh turn
to cinder and ash monsters
the monsters who feared
the unordinary who showed
any kind of extraordinary monsters
the monsters of the masses
with crosses that burned
like torches monsters
the monsters who screamed ******
in the name of....
monsters
the monsters who could not see
their own reflection
for the hideous creatures
they were monsters
the same monsters that still live today
on this side of the looking glasses
under our thin skinned social structure
still burning witches
subtly now
with words of disdain
full of pernicious intentions
towards the lost and the lonely
with the cold staring eyes of indifference
and hearts without an once of compassion
towards the homeless and hungry
with the revulsion and abhorrence
towards those who love
the ones they love
the witches being any unordinary
that show any kind of extraordinary
still being feared for their difference
still being hated
reduced to nothing but
pill size suicides
red ribboned wrists
rope neck ties
for feeling too much
pushing too far
flying too high
dancing in cinder to ash
being burned
burned for being alive
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 3:32 AM UTC
Guarded within the old red wall's embrace,
Marshalled like soldiers in gay company,
The tulips stand arrayed. Here infantry
Wheels out into the sunlight. What bold grace
Sets off their tunics, white with crimson lace!
Here are platoons of gold-frocked cavalry,
With scarlet sabres tossing in the eye
Of purple batteries, every gun in place.
Forward they come, with flaunting colours spread,
With torches burning, stepping out in time
To some quick, unheard march. Our ears are dead,
We cannot catch the tune. In pantomime
Parades that army. With our utmost powers
We hear the wind stream through a bed of flowers.
4.7k
She’s the last of the fairy tales.
The mobs came with pitchforks and torches.
The ashes of the golden era stains her skin.
Her magic dwindled, wounded by the sins of man.
She seeks not revenge, nor justice.
She seeks punishment.
I have been the guardian of her heart;
A heart she feels she no longer needs.
There will be a day where it beats again.
Not this day.
On this day she waits in the dark,
Waiting for the day her memory is forgotten;
The day her tragedy becomes a myth.
On that day, reckoning will come
To remind them their cruelty is unequalled
By the spirit of a fallen star.
On that day, I will be her harbinger.
On that day, I will resurrect the memory
They wished would stay buried in the depths.
On that day, the hearts of man will cry for mercy,
Only to fall upon deaf ears...
Because I made a promise.
Cross my heart, she’ll never die.
Look your devil in her eyes.
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 11:51 AM UTC
How can we not feel Adam’s pain
See the features of this creature
Tortured by people’s disdain
And not weep at his wretched state
Frankenstein’s creation
From his strange life equation
Electrical innovation
In that once marvelous now dead age
How can we not feel Adam’s pain
The child with no real name
Only a borrowed nomenclature
To define his human inhumane nature
Torches and Preachers calling for his head
Love denied never finding peace
This so called beast could rip us to shreds
Tear our flesh asunder and squash our heads
But when he speaks racked with life’s pain
A horridly embellished mirror of my own
My defenses break opening the floodgate
And the monster makes me cry
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
.
Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound
Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew
Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone
Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe
Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear
Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand
Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud
***“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again
Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall
Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”***
So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned
Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”
Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 9:25 AM UTC
I am the soft silent sight
nestled in a tree gently
holding hands with emotion.
Together like lovers we intimately
sit with an invisible touch.
Our eyes penetrating darkness
we govern like a loving mother
or angelic force like Mother Teresa.
A shiny moon polishing
a silvery heart cooled
by a vast ocean.
I always fly quietly as I bring
a gentleness into darkness.
Tucking the night up with
the softest quilt, through a pane
of glass in a near by wood you
hear me calling.
I give a rod of stability eternal sight
seen it all before will see it again.
As we hang softly like the moon
in the sky or an Owl in the tree.
I lift people through their night
I carry them with my sight a
tractor beam of light.
As you feel my presence like a
million hands that softly
penetrate.
All holding torches you are
lite like a child who's mother
has come back.
Scooping you up your
darkness falls on
entering my Owls sight.
I am the light that always
surrounds the night .
I am the ever expanding vision
the tide that never turns but
just keeps on rising.
I grow with a bursting force
of an ever expanding universe
as I stretch my eyes they keep
on reaching.
I am the ancient eye placed high
above always unstirred but
filled with feeling.
Like the white of an eye surrounding
a pupil I am the army who circles
around the darkness.
I am the reflection of the velvet
moon sitting on the ocean
threading itself throughout
your being.
Those caught within my sight
will feel a thousand tiny bubbles
of bright light.
Gandolf the white explores
your caves holding his
wisdom stick and lantern.
Unlocking your hidden emotion
giving you magic fighting
of your demon.
I will conquer hell fire with
a gentle trickle finding my path
like a mountain stream passing.
But when I open my heart my wings
the devil will shudder because I hold a
power like the pacific ocean.
So much protection we can find
at night within the Owls sight.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
A forest adventure-we didn't plan it that way at all,
the call of the wild prompted us, is all I can now guess
hand in hand in to the woods we ventured like two possessed,
magical, it felt, we soon disappeared, from the eyes of curious intruders.
erogenous scent of damp earth, after the first sprinkling of monsoon clouds,
pepped up our interest in hunting mushrooms
popping up everywhere, like fragments of white clouds descended,
we pulled out, egg shaped mushrooms that came in to our view
the frenzy we fell in to, possessed us in total,
after all we we are also young and hot blooded,
We competed like hounds in hot pursuit,
ran, collided with each other, fell down,
with a gentle thud, upon each other.
She did lay flat, face down on my chest,
I smelt,musk on her neck a slow intoxicant
and mushrooms hidden in her both armpits,
which I pursued and found out,we were getting hot,
in pursuit of each other's secrets.
the world, we had forgotten completely for long!!
We didn't see evening light melt and
darkness spread stealthily over the woods
that engages the robust body of the night,
from the rendezvous, of these secret lovers,
we sneaked out and saw lighted torches,
approach us from all four directions.
they zeroed in on us,"Who goes there?"
a harsh voice asked,
"This, do you know, is the holy grove,
of mother goddess, strictly watched
for not to be get desecrated
by people who seek some sort of adventure,
such an act never goes unpunished,
we'll search you and find what you did"
We held out mushrooms before them,
and I saw each face turning a lotus!
"where did you get this,? Oh! so much!,
Those are so rare and any one is able to pluck it,
only if mother goddess is pleased"
And then we realized this,
in that forbidden sacred wood,
between us a miracle has happened!
that pleased the mother goddess
of the woods, the blessed presence,
aren't we then the chosen ones?
,
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 6:44 PM UTC
Once upon a time ago
He wanted to be friends
People saw him as a Troll
That's not where the story ends
For he was so beautiful inside
People only saw the outer skin
His love for life, he did hide
Hiding away from everything
One day, a little blind girl came his way
Became his friend, she told him stories
She visited the Troll every single day
Told of heroes and their victory glories
But the villagers came looking to ****
A friendly Troll who only loved life
Chased him far over the hill
With torches, clubs and a knife
But the little blind girl was in trouble
A wall of rocks began to slide
The Troll rescued her from the rubble
Gave his life for her and he died
Now as the friendly Troll, he is remembered
Never would he cause you any harm
Forever, as a hero, he will be remembered
The friendly Troll with beautiful charm
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 3:38 AM UTC
In a Somerville coffeeshop, waiting for his single origin light roasted Pour over,
Frankenstein reads a philosophy magezine, seductively planted by the lounging area.
"One lives two lives."
The magezine reads,
"That which one spends in their physical body,
and that which begins the moment one leaves that body,
lasting until all witness to ones first life has spoken its final word".
The baristas eyes widen when he sees Frankenstein,
The barista says nothing.
He knows better than to raise the dead.
Frankenstein is often confused
for his monster.
Condensation rises between crocheted mittens, Frankenstein Lingers on the Cherry notes in his Coffee, while it combs icicles into his snow white mustache.
He likes this new version of an afterlife. It empowers him to take advantage of the time he has now, to make his second life last as long as possible.
He's in the middle of this thought
When his face slams against ***** snowbank.
Dog **** mixing into the icicles of his moustache.
A familiar mob of torches and pitchforks only see the monster.
They take turns kicking.
Kicking
Frankenstein wakes to a lynching.
When he lives
He is not a monster.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 8:06 AM UTC
For once, I'm at a loss for words
I can't write eloquence into our anniversary yesterday
Because it was magical in and of itself
You planned me a quiet picnic in the woods, just you and me
Cooking hot dogs on a charcoal grill we didn't know how to use
And eating chicken salad
Going kayaking was a dream, paddling along
On a quiet tributary to a bigger lake, we went back into the woods
We sat in our little floating craft and talked about first kisses and magic
We wondered at how simple acts could have led us apart and how happy we are together
I noticed the calmness of the water and the intricacies of the ripples when I indulged my paddle into the stream
We were out for an hour, just paddling along
Talking, living, laughing, loving together.
Just being together
We eventually made our way back in, an hour car ride away from home
Talking some more, laughing together, enjoying the company
We went back to my place and ate dinner with my family
Shrimp Scampi with salad and bread
Then roasted marshmallows and laughed when they became torches
Nothing is better than marshmallows with the people you love
After that we set up my hammock and just swung there and watched the sun slip below the horizon
Taking in the scenery, we didn't need to talk, because there was nothing more that could have been said
It was magical until my little brother came over to us and asked why we weren't talking and called us boring
But he doesn't understand, not quite yet
Not until he is sitting on a hammock with a girl, and knows there isn't anything to say
It was a beautiful day, wonderful by itself
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC