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to immortal words
that escape lips,
you might be wiser
by seeking their wisdom
than closing your mind
Absinthe EyesMy muse has green eyes.
Like the absinthe, that
Drove the mad poets of
The old centuries past,
To their creative ecstasies.
Like the Leanan Sidhe
Inspiring my imagination,
To burn so fierce, so bright,
So it near consumes me.
I get lost in chartreuse,
In the sparkle of peridot.
In the Forest green
Of those eyes.
Misguided Devotion The current so strong,
As if gravity wasn't enough
To keep a man grounded
In one spot
For an eternity,
The constant surge
Of freshly strewn
From the duct work
Makes every stroke of my paddle
As if I partook in the lusty lotus.
Never does the river
Even as the light fades,
The violent rapids
LookLook beyond her curves,
hips flow down
the river of legs
to her foundation.
Look beyond her smile,
insidious and vile,
full of contempt
Look beyond her ocean eyes,
into the black hole
that has claimed
as many men as the Bermuda Triangle.
Look beyond her words,
deceit laid in wait
to ensnare her prey
Look beyond this woman,
leading men to rocks
of Medusa victims.
Look beyond this woman
and imagine more,
wait till morning
and youll see.
I'll followI once thought of jumping
Off the side of a busy overpass
To land face down in the warm
Polluted run-off from the traveled road
To understand why others jumped.
Maybe I just wanted to fly;
Become a bird without wings,
Without lift to recover from gravity.
Maybe it was a loss of interest
In my life, but I think it was a twist,
A recovery of another life,
Of other's lives, of yours.
I wondered what it took to discover
Forgotten lives, to appreciate life,
And to remember death. To freely die
For curiosity of another's existence
Was my mission this darkened morning,
To uncover the curtain
That cleaved my jump from another's,
To understand the other side
That is unfortunately neglected;
The stiff laying in the coagulated grease.
AnxietyA crack in the universe and you were gone,
never to be seen again till dawn arose
and alleviated this anxiety that you had gone.
Yet last night the universe froze in place
spinning on its axis, waiting;
now all thats left is apprehension in its place.
Somewhere in the world you are waiting,
watching for the moment to pounce;
a crack in the universe I shall wait...
Why stop when I can...Why stop at a word,
why not sentences,
why not stanzas,
why not a poem?
Why stop at a word,
when I can write you a poem;
why stop at a petal,
when I can pick you a rose.
When I pick you a rose,
I give you many petals,
When I write you a poem,
I give you many words.
Why stop with a portrait,
why not a thousand words,
why not a million colors,
why not a loving smile?
Why stop with a portrait
when I can write you a poem;
why stop with a smile
when I can make you mine.
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More