1,001 NightsIn a land ofdreams and dust:the curve ofa half-hazed sun,devoured.
PompeiiDrumbeat from above;trailed by ragged, ashen dogsfed only Vesuvius’ shadowuntil the heavens split—sodden map becomespapier-mâché fingers andfrom afar, through a veil of rain,a chorus: the mournful dogs howl,cursing the gods.
Memoir III1.Thunderstormon the way to school:roadside tsunami.2.Sunday morning—burnt pancakes,lined like Jupiter.3.Yin-yang catdozes, balancingwaking and dreaming.4.Cloud gazing inthe rain—tears of theweeping woman.5.Hot chocolate—marshmallow meteorsin a darkened sky.
AsphodelA beckoning:watercolour sky shrinking,too late, teeth fall; pearlsfrom a broken string.Blink and the moon ignites—but the sheets are stillenvelope-stiff.
SurrealismThree a.m., andGod is in my bathtubagain—sipping whiskeyhallelujahs;backlit bya freshwater moonin the mother-of-pearl sky.
DebussyRestless under theclairvoyant moon—dreams quiver likecandlelight againsta long-lost muse.
Sundropo n some days I watch you rise and ragewith a new yearfirework fervour–untamed and glorious,pulling the years togetherwith a snap of your fingers.but some days you are languid,stretching like the summer dustingof freckles along your forearms, theslumberous strands of hair shutteringyour sky-eyes from the morning light.on these days, I think the earth spinsslower and the birds sing a littlequieter. on these days, I lookat you and I think:sundrop.
Little FuryThe storm throws you to my door, drenched and bloodied, god-light dimmed. The crest of the hill is underwater. You have no boots. Morning dawns cold, clear, a watery gold. You are gone.
NymphTranslucent asa dragonfly wing—her hair fansin the water, andthe sun bleeds.
Too weakDoctors say I'm simply weak,so I get sick all the time.Nothing more, nothing less.I must be careful.I believe them, I feel it,I was always feeling it.How my love for you is so strong?Maybe you are right,my love for you is a sickness,result of my weakness.
I Never Was, I'll Never BeI Never Was A Good Whore.I Fall In Love With Poor Guys,but that's ok, I'm Used To MySelf.Once One Of These Guys Was Also In Love With Me.Not From The Beginning,but after the third meetinghe finally accepted our truth.And I was Happy and He was Happy!!!When He was coming To Our Fourth Meeting,he had an accident with his bike.I Never Was A Good Whore.I Never Was,I'll Never Be.
Dream CriterionIf you can't fly on your dreams anymore,I'm sorry, but don't worry,you have simply grown up.If you can't build a little empire on your dreams,I'm totally sorry,you are a dead man walking.
It Wasn't MeI felt such a shamethat I found you lovelywhen you were crying.I know you can't forgive me,but please at least rememberthat It Wasn't Mewho made you cry.
Those Who CareHold me close,Then kiss my hair,And just remind me,There are those who care.
Once Upon A TimeOnce upon a time there was a girlAnd she lived.
NaPoWriMo Day: 1I’ve got 30 daysto defy Icarus:teach this rose thorn hearthow to fly.[ All I want to be is the space between the stars. ]But, I’m here,ripping holes in blank pageswhile nursing nebulae knuckleswith white plastered walls.
Alla RabiosaScorpio's tail slips low—a mari usque ad mare:from sea to seaover me, a devil in the sky above;and the Huntresspeels dawn like an orange.(Fling meamongst the stars:the Mad Queen's cosmic mirage.)
Prelude Nocturne;I conjure the moonas dusk crests, a wave across the sky I am lovely and lonely in the night, shadow- shackled to the mountainsideand the mothsunfurl their hamsa-wings asmama calls me in.
I Fucked Your Mind, SorryI'm Sorry I Loved You,I'm Sorry I Love You,but I'm a sick bastardthat cannot stay away from you.Nothing less,Nothing more,I cannot let it go,I will not harm you.What I'm Going Through, It's Not Your Fault.What You're Going Through, It's Not My Fault.The moment I was bittenby the crazy dog you hired,I realized that my crazy lovehas fucked your mind.It passed a long timesince then,but you can't recover.I'm Sorry I Loved You,I'm Sorry I Love You.
She's a seducerI'm not a good whore,I am the best whore!!!She's a seducer.
Love Is A WeakNessLove Is A WeakNess
Name testA girl that lies to you about her name,she may hide something or she may wantsomething of yours.A girl that shares her real nameeither she wants nothingor she wants everything from you.
House Of The DamnedHouse Of The DamnedThe ghost felt forgotten in the house of the damnedSince his wife and child had died in a car crashThe madness and depression had set inHe spent night after night in his officeListening to the voices in his headAnd writing in his journalShort stories, poems and observationsHe thought he had an unique talentA modern day Edgar Allan PoeAfter his death he hoped he would be famousHe sent his poetry to publishersBut always got a negative responseThe alcohol helped ease the painDampened down the negative thoughtsOne night everything fell apartHe played a piece of sad classical musicHe took a few pills and some red wineAnd a few more pillsHe kept taking them until he passed outThe housekeeper found him the next dayOnly two people attended the funeralThe housekeeper and the gardenerIt was a sad and lonely endBut then again it was not quite the endHe returned as a ghost to haunt his past domainAfter years of a soulless existence things changedA new
The Wrong Side Of MidNightOn The Doctor's TrainI Met The Princess Of The Dawn,But We WereOn The Wrong Side Of MidNight.
The World Is YoursThe world is yours,You know itand I know it,no matter what I'm saying.But don't ask mewhat I would do without you.This world,without you,simply it wouldn't exist.But it would exist another world,better or not, I don't know.But you existand this world existsandThe world is yours.
Why You?Once you askedWhy You?I Ask MySelf The Same QuestionEvery Night,Every Day,Every Hour,Every Minute.Why You???
We Are The MachineBorn in deep cold silenceOf generator's hum.We are programmed to obeyAnd built to overcome.Shattered glass on the groundWelcomes us to lifeOf military dominance.Of agony and strife.We aren't just an army.We are the machine.Our minds are made of metal.Our wrath is cold and clean.Marching on in harmony,Blood upon skin green.We aren't just an army.We are the machine.Eating processed snack foodAnd gunning down our foes,We follow the tallestAs our empire grows.No one stands against usWithout being destroyed.We are the coming doomThat no one can avoid.We aren't just an army.We are the machine.Our minds are made of metal.Our wrath is cold and clean.Marching on in harmony,Blood upon skin green.We aren't just an army.We are the machine.Our cancer, the defects,Are glitched in the head.We find those afflictedThey all end up dead.We must never questionOur existence as slaves.As control brains monitorOur radio waves.We aren't just an army.We are the machine.
LiliyaBright-eyed,bird-bonedwhisper girl;dark-dressed,moon-backedmistress of light.
Лилия / Liliya. NaPoWriMo 11-Featured:Here by *Lady-YumeThank you!