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Little Black BookConscience was my killer;
Little black book of fate;
I stored each name
In colours of shame
And preserved the sinful date.
Skeletons in the closet;
Corpses in the yard;
All I did want
In my fell haunt
Was a faded tarot card.
By the StrandI still breathe your name by the wavering shore
And cast away to the sail winds a song
And close my eyes and evermore belong
To the unfed brine and its yearning roar.
The distant lamps polish the incensed green,
A flock of fallen stars upon the bay
Alights a dream of a submerged day
And strokes in feud a mind's browbeaten scene.
And standing by the strand I pace and skew
In hope a rising crest will fell or hide
Your voice; yet each raw spate, each rippling tide
Borrows to bestow an echo of you.
War Woundthere's a war wound in my chest
that I cradle in my heart
and nurse it with parables
never grows up.
sometimes I feed it vanities,
a glass of Scotch or two
but in the morning's residue
it reflects no summer truths.
there's a war wound in my chest
which sought shelter in my soul
now it lies as an attic masterpiece
for the years to unfold
the colours have aged with me
rubric to rust to puce
and this work of art upon my heart
for the artist's eyes.
there's a war wound in my chest
which fell our company
but I who saw the shot and shell,
know it well indeed.
for he assigned us nameless,
no rank, no class or creed,
but then the lance of simple chance
wiped out our battery.
and I who fell for our comradery
did no favours for thee
I beheld the appetite of infancy
and lived for mortality.
The Artist's PleaThe fingerprints of mankind among each hill
Does the artist's eyes with melancholy fill,
A meadow unseen, untouched by time
Lends the poor poet his timeless rhyme,
The song of a lark, the scent of a rose
Bears in its womb, the birth of sweet prose,
And though man will pillage and nature abuse
Where from will he find tomorrow's muse?
In MemoriamThe guardian ghosts, ghosts of our great men gone
await above, await your advent's song,
The skylark's cry has vexed this vivid morn;
her notes denote in notes that know no wrong.
The ample ale of amber allium art
is milked by million minions of her shine,
Her radiance reigned, rained ray drops dart by dart
on fallowed fields, fields flood with floral wine.
Lie you now, now lie you near no night;
The calling candles clear collected scars,
The sun still sates the sweat of sheltered sight;
You belong, belong by better stars.
12 to 6 And I
And I wondered
ever a plan?
Or was it
Behind Closed Doorsbehind closed doors,
past padlocks old,
confined latch bolts,
and deadlocks cold;
the hooks still hold
and stick the hole
and often house
your naked soul.
A Walk through Burleigh Wood on a Spring EveningTwo wanderers pursued a lonely trail
Beneath a truss of banished tears;
Avast! A distant hazel pale
Endured the evening's mewling gale:
A welcome sight for Eden's exiled peers.
A sprightly saunter down the virgin pass
Brought forth a sea of lorn bluebells,
The heavens weaved through earthly grass
Where silent vespers did amass
To worship springtide's sudden winsome spells.
A timeless tinkling of bereft azure
Withdrew the curtain of decline,
And once two rovers stood demure,
Now children, elegant and pure
Walked side by side in that secluded shrine.
In that wild ever eclipsed winding wood
Was heard the bluebell's soothing knell:
It tolled for time one understood,
In that slight glade of each childhood
A star espoused the season's first bluebell.
It's all MineMy mind may be deep,
It may be dark,
But my mind is my own,
And it will always be mine,
Till the day that I die,
Others may think they can read it,
I have nothing to hide,
And that is that.
She's a wild flower
Growin' in the desert, her roots in the sand
Her stare always makes me cower
It's clear from her looks, she is queen of this land
Her hair bound up in a single braid
Her jean shorts shortened, ripped and frayed
She's made of pheremones
Lyin' in my chevy with her feet on the dash
Adjustin' my radio
Tryin' to find some Johnny Cash
Her hands puttin' on my John Deere hat
Grinnin' at me like a Cheshire cat
She's a farmers daughter
There ain't nothin' mild 'bout this wild child
And I'm the only one whose got her
And I always know how to get her riled
Her high black boots off and splayed
Lyin' on her back up under the shade
She's a wild flower
Lyin' in my chevy, her hand on my thigh
Her smile makes me wanna wow her
It's clear from her touch that she wants me to try
Silence overtakes the land
In the wake of the end
When not one sound is heard
You know it was a success
Soon the wailing begins
From somewhere far away
As the smoke begins to fade
Nothing there remains
It was too loud to be heard
Too bright to be seen
Too fast to be found
Destruction is the only evidence
The explosion was instant
The devestation immence
The bomb was catastrophic
If one bomb worked that well
Then the second will undoubtedly be unconscionable
but will be fired anyway
as is the American way
And as the silence overtakes the land
In the wake of the second end
When not one sound is heard
You know it was a success
This great tragedy
Will always be taught
As such a great success
A sucessful massacre
Of thousands of people
And so begins this new age
Of fear, pain, wars and weapons
And so begins the atomic era
You had better watch your step
Or you may step on the escaping breath
Left abandoned on the sidewalk
Watch that you do not bring your foot down
On the memory of the dead
where is the peace of rest for them
That no one quite understands
There are so many of them everywhere
But they are all different
They are all unique
So cry for the little soul
That was crushed by a sidewalk plow
Cry for the fallen
For he was someone's baby
Cry for the pressed lump
Of blood and feathers
Cry for the dead pigeon
An AdoptionI remember that time.
Nine months of pure agony
I didn’t want the child.
I wasn’t ready,in so many levels.
How could I give love to something that deserves it the most
When no one taught me how…
I did it.
I gave her away.
No I don’t regret it
She will be happy…
After so many years
I have everything I ever wanted
Most of the time yes.
But I wonder,
How she looks
What’s her personality like
What her goals are…
And a little part inside me wishes
I had her, with me now.
I see girls,her own age.
Strangers in the street and I wonder,
If she is one of them
If I ever laid my eyes upon her
And that kills me.
Flax FacesFlax Faces
Lo! Look- flax faced, flax haired man
Who stands tower-high in tempest
Cloaked in forest-skinned clothes
And bearing remedy for many
Worn and weary bones!
While others stood to smile and fan
Flames to burn me, tread on me,
That hero-hand reached down
To set me free!
And his heart-ally!
Flinching, fear-bound friend of mine
Who vanquished all my fears of thine
Gender! Many blessings heaped upon thy soul
And oft-struck structure! Winds howl and lash
Both thy forms yet lighthouse-love for me
Is never shut, never held back!
And even when my own words to wrack
You, did not choose to cast me out
Nor hear my sullen shout of "leave me be!"
But hold me to your narrowed selves!
Even when I stood poised to plunge
And dash myself against a red rock
Raced thee and free-made me
Of my self consumed anxiety.
And Whiterose! The words of comfort
Oft distilled to aid me in my search
For one to love more than myself
Will echo everlasting in my mind!
The Sons of SunderingAh! The road girdled world
Is ours. We are masters of the stars and skies
And all God's glory lies unfurled.
Lordship to paltry earth denied.
The sky holds no wonderment for man
As we streak our sky with iron birds.
We do not work our fields, no tan
Burned workers, machines work the land.
And kneeling down to the wasted earth
A father lays to rest his son, his tears spoil
The foggy morning, as he hears the birth
Of that son in his mind. His toil
Is cheapened by a modern world and under
neath a burial shroud
Like machines, our lives pass like a cloud.
A Hymn for Two LoversOh what a sight!
Ah! What a sight to see!
Two lovers lying in the couch
Or waltz-walking in the street.
Who am I to stop and greet
And distract the union from itself?
To show what their love means to me?
Sitting here beside the pair
While their breath steams the air
My soul's sole desire
Is to catch the smiles he throws away.
To catch hold of that fire
And to catch it today!
I swear unto the Christ
I would pay any price
Be it meager or grand
To hold a girl's hand
Like he clutches hers!
I'd take a scourging rod
To see them with God
United right there!
In all the fires of this land
I would forever gladly stand
To be their best man!
And to be at their side
Through the cold winters night
So they may one day stand at mine!
That a girl with a wondrous mind
Be she course or be she refined,
To sit with my hand in her hair
For what else could I possibly care?
What in the world could I possibly want?
And when I go unto God
May he carry my funeral hod
And whisper a half muttered prayer
As I go in
Little Bitter BoyHow many mornings, cobweb white
Have been spent on thoughts of you?
How many nights, coal dust dark
Have I cursed and cried o'er your name?
Words fail me, a fallow mind
Now foul and horse-heavy and dull.
No reason gave you, no trial, no jury
Only judge and scales and sword
You and I blind! That sword
Has hacked and doused dreams, hanged hopes
And put paid with pity all joy I held.
Not held! Borrowed from you! And dragged
Like a weed root, up and away and burned
Black with cruel hands!.
The Passion FruitTease the heart in little doses,
A dash of red, not all the roses,
Fan the flame that's frail and dying,
Cull the bird that's fit and flying,
Win the sight of every pleasure,
Yet forfeit the sunken treasure,
Pull one step short of simple ration,
Hoard the enshrined conversation,
Speak in words that betray ire,
Prepare the untimely pyre,
Call out the rites in gleeful voices,
Portray a faux lack of choices,
Then leap before the burning fervor,
Await the sorrowful preserver,
Raise the stakes to hold your bearing,
Stretch the tender till it's tearing,
What is broken, makes one stronger,
What doesn't end is meant for longer,
What is pined for is not what is
And longed for neither hers nor his,
A dearth, a lack, a want we savour
And THAT lends the passion fruit its flavour.
Stuck The car sputtered and shook as it came to an almost silent stop. The engine had gone silent as the horn beeped loudly through the dark night. The orange gas light blinked mockingly at the woman behind the wheel. It was making fun of her; she knew it was making fun of her. Grabbing the black cellular phone on the passenger seat, she looked at it with full intention of calling somebody to come help her.
“Oh, what the hell?!”
The “no service” sign was mocking her at the same exact time. The horn beeped loudly as she slammed her head against it once again. The day was out to get her in general. She had arrived at all her classes late, and her son was sick with the flu. The babysitter was able to watch him as she went to her late night classes. Giving a heavy sigh, she lifted her head off the wheel to look out the window. Drops of water pooled on the windshield as rain started to fall in a pitter-patter pattern. She didn’t quite understand the message th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More