[x]

Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

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DesireFlesh against flesh in the mud,
Candy kisses laced with blood,
An Angel's caress with a touch of fire,
Loving you is my only desire.

My Name is AliceMy name is Alice and I'm not free,
There is nobody who can rescue me.
I'm trapt, alone, in this Wonderland,
I don't have anybody to hold my hand.
The Mad Hatter has jumped his skin,
The Cheshire Cat has lost his grin,
The Caterpillar is away on leave,
The White Rabbit is out of tea,
The Card Castle has begun to crumble,
The White Knight is not so humble,
The Jabberwock roams the night,
I live my life in constant fright.
The Queen of Hearts has lost her head,
The Vorpal Blade is gone and dead,
All the roses have no color,
The entire Land has lost it's Wonder.
My name is Alice and in fact,
My head is split, brain is cracked.
D

CountingCount the sighs and the lines
One, two, three, four and five
Take a breath and step back in time
One, two, three, four, and five
Years have passed since you were mine
Five, four, three, two, and one
Close your eyes and feel the gun
Five, four, three, two, and one
Pull the trigger just for fun
Six, seven, eight, nine, and ten
Years it took, but no regrets.

I AmI am the one with no tomorrow
High off anger and full of sorrow.
I am the one so full of rage
Breath comes fast and can't see straight.
I am the one with tainted blood
Twisted mind where darkness floods.
I am the one who holds the knife
I'll take this blade and end my life.

Make Me WellMaybe I want to be alone,
Maybe I'm better off when you're not home,
Maybe I like to cry myself to sleep,
Maybe I want to cut too deep,
But, Baby, there's something wrong with me,
Something hard for you to see,
And Darling, I need your help,
But you won't be there to see me well.

So, I'll cry myself to sleep at night,
And wake up in the morning to a fight,
I'll drown myself in my own fears,
And try to hold on to all my tears,
But, Baby, I can't let go of you,
It's something hard for me to do,
And Darling, I cry for help,
But you don't want me to get well.

What if I'm better off alone,
And I don't want you to come home,
I'll

Painting PicturesLet the vein meet the razor,
The only way that he'll save her.
Paint a picture across her skin,
The only way to let him in.
Sweeping lines of red and white,
Screaming in the dead of night.
Words that dance across the space,
Haunting her in every place.
Let the vein meet the razor,
He is far too late to save her.
Still she paints him on her skin,
Her only hope, to let him in.
Vision fading gray and white,
Sobbing in the dead of night.
Ghosts that dance across the space,
Haunting her in every place.
Let the vein meet the razor,
His only joy was to hate her.
She paints her love across her skin,
All she wanted was to let him in

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Something In The Song

by ~KiraKoi, Sep 23, 2011, 6:46:37 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

There's something in the song
That sets you running free.
A stirring in your soul
Thrumming with the melody.
Hammering heart is skipping,
Quickly with the beat.
Imagination taking hold
As you listen to the key.
And in the tempo you will find
Wonders beyond belief.

Something In The Songby ~KiraKoi

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Something I wrote while listening to music by Adrian Von Ziegler.
[link]

~DecThePixter Nov 10, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

Very nice!

~KiraKoi Dec 25, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

~DecThePixter Dec 26, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

No problem!

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Something In The Song

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