Posts Tagged ‘love’

Such childhood dreams I remember,
Of artwork and vividity,
Smiles were the way,
But then the conveyer belt fired up,
Careening me through a decided life,

It appears to this dreary soul,
That a lifes worth,
Such as it is,
Is merely based upon ones employment,
Dollar and stirling signs,

To contribute is just of course,
But life is not purely about what you can give,
In terms of finance,
We should follow Euphrosyne,
Not remain serfs to Plutus,

You are what you earn,
Does a bad back,
And a full pension,
Mean a life fulfilled?
Should respect be dependent on vocation?

We live to work,
And work to live,
But what about the end?
Will I too have to build my coffin?
Dig my own grave?

I have a tumour,
I feel it pulsing within my skull,
A neoplasmic fiend,
A frankenstein creation of my own heart,
My cells joining its unholy legion,

I know from whence it came,
I breathed in those cancerous cells,
They breached my lips,
On a vessel of her red lipstick,
Her nightly ritual,

She drew me in,
Like a spider playing a violin,
A trap of an embrace,
A witch in white gown lingerie,
Obsessive oncology,

This amorous disease ravaged my form,
Playing jukebox romance ad infinitum,
My humours sent into spasms,
My virtues turned askew,
Blurred eyes,

I ought to be alone,
Give me a bottle of amber,
My own radiation therapy,
I’m unclear of the prognosis,
But this love is cancer.

I am not a jealous soul,
But I stare green-eyed at birds,
Those avian aviators,
Artists of the blue,
I envy them their wings,
I write you true,

Soaring the skies,
It must be such release,
Such catharsis,
They are not bound to one another,
Why do they stay in throngs?
Are they not individuals?

Do they not know they are free?
My envy screams up at them,
Predation should be no deterrent,
When the flock flies west,
Why not fly east?
Don’t waste those wings,

Coveting their feathery prom dresses,
I call out to them,
Please take me away,
Imitating their freedom,
I reach skyward,
Yet they flee in flocks.

The day roars in anger,
As I awaken bloody-eyed,
It bares its dragon fangs to me,
Demanding I return to the aether,
It threatens my chakras,

So I turn to the gemstones,
They are eternal war advisors,
I turn to the agate to calm me,
It’s fiery aura pushing me ahead,
I watch the ruby rage,
Impelling me to take on the day,

Unakite takes on purging my nightly malice,
I clutch a pristine diamond,
It animates me to be a force of good,
Amplifying opal carries the lance and standard,
Tiger eye suggests a practical method,
The onyx points the way,

While the pyrite drives me to stand up to the dragon,
I gaze at the howlite,
Quietly it tells me to forgive the day,
They serve as bulwark and bandage,
The dragon shall be subdued,
Whether through heart or force.

Love is music,
Verily indeed,
The most deadly kind of music,
Is certainly a love song,
Vixen words of infatuation,
The soft tones,
And romantic nuances,
Aural nectar and petals,
They’ll give you hope,
A lie we all believe,
A heart-shaped bear trap,
A praying mantis,

Passion strikes,
The trap snaps shut,
A heart exploding,
Within a chest cavity,
Tearing wings off of doves,
As they try to soar,
This is no romance poem,
It’s a plea to hear no more music,
Forgive my subversion,
Love left me a drop topsy-turvy,
A marionette whose strings were cut,
It was all a lie.

I have an unusual companion,
She found her way to my den,
My fascination led me to let her stay,
She made her place in a dark corner,
A neat unassuming spot by a rafter,
Her prescence acts as sedative,
She silently watchs and keeps vigil,

Moths and flies are fodder,
Easily falling into her showy web,
The lamplight draws them in,
Their feeble minds drawn into our ploy,
Artwork becomes artifice,
A cradle becomes a pitfall,
She feasts on bodies as I sip full-bodied amber,

Powerful fangs and a few too many eyes,
Horror to some,
Elegance to me,
A perfect organism,
An imposing specimen,
She’s no Charlotte,
More of a Maleficent.

Daji was an evil woman,
Once a simple concubine,
With a beauty that erred on the line,
Between angelic and infernal,
Obsidian hair,
And femme fatale eyes,
Lips of jincan,
With a hidden craving for spawning torment,

Lover of a king,
Corruptor of a king,
A nation cracked,
As the state fell beneath one woman,
A barefoot farmer screamed,
His feet removed in morbid curiosity,
Peasants lamented,
When the paolao was ignited,

She and her king were overthrown,
By a people exhausted by torture,
Even their armies turned against the cruelty,
Execution was the minimum sentence,
Put to death by a new era,
By beheading or by pyre,
I am not entirely clear,
But evil cannot truly perish,

Now something altogether more ethereal,
A vulpine spirit,
Both in appearance,
And in temperament,
A nine-tailed fox,
The shrines were burned,
Erected by demented fox spirit cults,
But still her malice permeates,

Even to this day.

I’m a ghost,
But not of an afterlife,
I’m not dead,
Just not entirely here,
A hollow spirit,
I gave myself out too much,
Charity for too many hearts,
There was no blood left for me,

Each call for help,
Became a funeral invitation for me,
Burying more of myself,
I lost my form,
I wasn’t enough,
No more flesh,
Wasn’t enough to give,
It hollowed me out,

So now I float about an old house,
I wail in the twilight,
Gasping stridor in the black,
But I’m not here to startle,
Just to wallow in my own eulogy,
Ectoplasmic gibberish,
Among guttering candles,
And black cats,

Not enough,
Not,
Enough.

What went through your mind,
In those terminal moments?
As control was lost,
As the tyres cursed the road,
Before the impact,

Was it your family?
Your soon-to-be tearful spouse?
The little ones left behind?
All those holidays you’ll miss,
That place at the table nobody speaks of,

Or was it that last drink?
The sweetest of the evening,
The one your friends proposed,
The one nobody stopped you gulping,
Your conscience included,

Was it how you’d be if you made it?
The changes you’d make,
You’d get that new job,
Stop seeing that other woman,
Stop getting bags from that bad man,

As the vehicle careens,
It leaves tyre tracks,
Not only of obsidian rubber,
But also of a life of mistakes,
A car wreck of a life.

There was an eclipse last night,
The atmosphere grew heavy,
I scanned it with bloodshot eyes,
And I grew fearful,
To witness such beauty being obscured,
By a shadow of such an evil thing,

Witching hour…

As the lunar goddess was enshrouded,
The voices began their furor,
Rageful claws bore down,
Driven insane by the night air,
Be they spectre or succubi?
I was not privy,

New dawn…

I awaken sore and beaten,
Crimson scratches down my back,
A bruise or four,
I leave the abode into daylight,
The sun has taken the sky,
And I grow fearful.