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Desert Stone and Cactus Spinethe stones of this desert are made of words
and every spine on any cactus
is a painful point
begging to be driven deep by a tense silence
There was a desert where the sun stayed high
Ever blue as a heartbreak was that forever sky
Above the dust-devil washes where I ran as a child
Among the ripples of sand dunes that stretched out for miles
I wandered alone and learned to be wild
Back in those days, the stones used to fly
And dodging and ducking, to throw back I'd try
But their rain was so heavy, and it hurt when they hit!
So I'd run to my sand dunes, and I'd curse stones a bit
And I'd swear on my soul to someday make those stones quit
I stayed in my desert and swallowed my tears
When I was pelted with stones by the ones that I feared
'Till I discovered the cactus and the points I could make
With the cactus I found the stones easy to take
So as a child I used cactus for my own shildish sake
Now I'm older, I'm prone to deny
Those bright empty days 'neath that heartbroken sky
I don't want
The KeepThe Tower has grown dark and cold
full of little many-legged things
Forever dancing on the slimy floor
The Keep of my heart
When the walls began,
Oh! I fashioned them with small child's hands
So time drifted, and as I grew
It was no surprise that the walls did too
And I fooled the little dancer that came to play
With my child's heart in those dreary days
I'd grit my teeth and stay alone
My castle's Keep, my heart of Stone.
Four courses high, I wasn't even twenty
But I'd mined so much stone I knew there was plenty
I'd just barely started, Ten courses high!
I smiled at the world and turned twenty-five
I was trapping the dancers that came to play
With my stoney heart in those dreary days
I loved the pain, it made my life real
Love it? My God! It was all I could feel!
I turned around and turned thirty-seven
The stone of my heart was almost to heaven
So I put it down, but my heart could not smile
So I sighed and I frowned and walked alone for a while
But the weather was bad, and the trail g
And the Rain fallsBolting from the brushes the Creature moved black glistening claws extended tearing at the over growth of unlucky forest saplings of SuriGuard Forest- Black pupil-less eyes taking in the world in mounting fury- yet fear was there- a pain. The canine creature whirled around sniffing at the night air puffs of steam leaving it's nostrils as it tried to sniff out it's enemy- The Werewolf tried desperately to clear it's thoughts to a more logical level to out-smart this foe- but again and again the tormenting animalistic tendencies would take hold. One clawed hand clamped firmly against it's lower abdomen a river of scarlet slowly seeping through the dark brown dingy fur Slowly it's lips peels back showing rows of yellowing teeth as it snarled ears slowly flattening as it kept it's eyes set in the direction it had fled fromů.
He had been following the once human Donavin Jinks for over Six months now- having finally found him in the safety of SuriGuard's woods- Salem was only here in
Change this lifeHiding in the shadows
Resisting in secrecy
Trying to find a way
To change this life of misery
The future is unknown
The past is to forget
The present is dull and boring
Is this what life has to offer?
I want to change
And I keep trying
Only to fail miserabily
Every single time
eight ways you've made me small1. I wish
this was for you.
2. my journal pages - the
brown one with all our monologues -
were jarred with hollow vows of
last poems of
letting you slip into a coma
of bad memories, watching you
fall to your death off
a cascading cliff of disease
and dis ease.
it was never
easy for me
3. there's a reason I ask
whether you're grey
(dark white, elusively black, in between)
or blue (behind the clouds, under wave-foam,
whateverthefuck runs through the back of my
palms); I'd rather have
than the arms
that once held you half-
heartedly. you had always been
my harmony and I
would have killed
to have been yours.
4. it could never have been just me, the way
it could never have been just
5. disasters are not beautiful,
but how is it that you
managed to make my inner linings
converge into bows
and explode into wings the very
night you decided to rebuild your walls
to a lower height?
6. I wish
on bradbury and table dancingYou are not a wordsmith
whatever you might like to think. ('Smith'
indicates precision and coldness and fire:
words are softer than that unless you mold them strong.)
It's a difficult road to follow, and not many
make it past the fork. Choose a path,
Janus says, whirligig keys spinning on his shoulders:
I am a wordworker, with my tools too crude, forming
rough-edged carvings painted with pretty imagery.
Notebooks scattered across the landscape
of a child's room, to be stumbled across,
read, red-penned, in the thick and choking breath of night.
When the bough breaks
a hanged man laughs. He carries typewriters
in his pockets, and cigarettes in the soles of his shoes.
I will never be a word mistress,
whoring myself to the speech of people I do not know and will never know me.
The oven is set to Fahrenheit 452, but the words were already aflame
before they ever took shape under your tongue.
You love everything they've ever written, and carry
unabashed loathing for every syllabl
Whenever I hurt myselfI have a feeling
Someone is watching
So I look around
But there's no one to be found
ExpirationWith you I always feel like I’m
to break in the wrong size of shoes.
Sometimes I sit and stew
over how you’re seventeen and
you think I’m a princess
the trapped-in-a-tower kind
and how you wear suits and talk about politics
and think you know the world.
My throat interrupts with an affronted gurgling sound
sometimes when I think about you,
you deal out advice where it just isn’t called for
you quote science-fiction to justify war
and you’re seventeen years old and you think I’m a princess
and you just have no blooming idea.
Darling, one of these days I will tell you my mind
But until then we’ll never fit
I’m afraid –
that even after that day
you’ll still be trimmed hedges and
when i stimulated the prayers of rib-beat
when i licked the temple of my teeth,
speed pushed my fingers shaped like confessionals
clasped holy, carved my throat to fixing-
lover; i did this for the anthem of your eyes,
the feel of strangled feet crushing the fame of stars
for the glow of streetlight worship, for the moons
of your crooning throat, for the halls of your arms,
the strayed revels of your arms,
lover: you manufactured a god out of the drugs i used
and had me addicted to the divine, to the dignity of music
you pressed in my direction: just what i am, hallelujah,
marijuana, day and night-
lover, i fell in love with your culture
that preached the real definition of dusked kneecaps,
the plea of closeted throats, the whisper of bless,
unlearning how to say please god in borrowed tongue,
i fell in love with your attention, with nervous grace
lover. i levied the rubble of my sins
Even The City KnowsIs it at all easy?
Being by yourself, I mean.
Sitting in a car, on a train, on a bus--wherever you might be now, isn't it hard to be a drifter?
There are no men with newspapers, no women with strollers, no love-crazy teenagers, no annoying toddlers, no anybody.
You stare out the window, like there are people out there, calling your name. The trees are out there, and they've lost all their leaves, all their buds--they've lost everything, just like you.
The sky is out there, and it's gray and colorless, just like you.
The stars are out there, and they're so blown-out-of-proportion, and they're just like you, too.
But the trees, the skies, the stars, they're used to being left alone.
You lack the ebullience of your drink, but it, too, is fading.
Frost has gathered on windows, on the ground, on rivers, everywhere.
Frost comes and goes, just like you, when you finally melt away.
The city draws to darkness and quiet--it disappears, just like you.
But, even frost
Death to the LoversHe screamed,
He tore his hair from his scalp;
But it didn't bring her back.
The beautiful girl
With the gorgeous smile
And witty remarks
Would always lay six feet under.
She would lie in her death bed,
Her arms folded on her chest
And her face full of peace
Known only to the dead.
He would be the first to rot.
First his health,
Then his sanity.
She would forever feed on his emotions
Like a pretty little leech,
Sapping his well being
And happiness from her underground world.
And he would let her,
For a fool like him
Who allowed himself to love,
Low and ColdThe glacier is silent and still
It forms slowly
Layer upon layer
The hardest ice is down low
Some ancient snowfall (buried like a memory)
Of a winter that did not end
A spring that never came
The droplets that collect below the hard ice
Cold tears of a million captured moments
Dance forever away from the glacial grip
A timid waltz
That ends with them huddled together
Under the heavy darkness
Unwilling to venture beyond the frozen shelter
That seeks aways to reclaim them
From droplet to puddle, from puddle to pool
To a great shadowy lake
Where the dark water swims with hungry ghosts
Born of a stormy past
The glacier is silent and still
But beneath the black ice
The melting of the past forms an ebony lake
Where something hunts in the darkness
Way down low, and cold.
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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