Do you sing upon the dunes,
my desert angel,
beneath the black moon
and brilliant stars?
Do you dance across the sands,
my shining spirit,
between the smooth earth
and the infinite sky?
Do you dream of distant worlds,
my graceful lover,
here beside the gleaming water
Will you wake to the faraway call,
my starry traveler,
here in my planet-bound home
Singen Sie auf den Dünen,
unter dem schwarzen Mond
und den leuchtenden Sternen?
Tanzen Sie über die Sande,
mein glänzender Geist,
zwischen dem glatten Boden
Devil WomanMaría, María,based on
into my shoulder,
of tangled copper wire,
of electrical impulses
changing plus to minus
plus to minus
over the radio:
flurries this evening
furious violin songs
and a sleet
of broken horsehairs.
Synapse to synapse.
Pues si está el mal
en que los use una mujer,
pues ¿en qué está
el serlo yo ?
we are not.
Take my heart
between your teeth!
Clutching forest skirts and
offering a heartbreak s
The Water ChildThe Water Child is waitingbased on
Down by the lake.
She does not know
How to play with humans
And they break.
Freedom and the Summer of CarbonThere's a band aid on her anklebased on
bleeding up her thigh and onto her neck.
A right handed whiskey bottle slung
over her razor wire shoulder .
Today, the train track was a catwalk .
Nothing about her hair or her lip ring
cried out "Help me". No, she was the
collective pulse and the sun couldn't set
until she took off those shades.
I couldn't leave until I found her eyes.
She shouted over the whistle of an approaching train.
"Sometimes you can find lumps of coal tucked between the rails.
They turn into diamonds. Didn't you know?"
"I think that process takes a really long time."
"Time is all I have and coal."
The WandererMy world dissolves into autumn,based on
the shade and the fire draped about my throat
like so many jewels.
I met the mist as an old lover,
let the dew paint my lips
with the scent of harvest.
In a white memory, you are still walking away,
down that same road.
Your hair was shining like the fall.
Your shape in the fog beckons;
ghost or vision, I care not.
I lose myself.
On AyalaBeneath the trees, betwixt the stately pines,based on
the Lady and her beastly Lord see all.
The wealdkin loose their tongues and raise their heads
to lift the forest heart with secret songs.
And in their verdant halls, the twain hold court,
attended by the eagle, fox, and hart,
accepting tribute, as is their just due.
A force of heroes, sleeping at their feet,
lie cold and white, until the time shall come
to rise again and fly beyond the mists
in service to the King Returned. But now
a time more yet must pass before they wake,
and life shall slumber still within their veins
until the Lord and Lady call them back
to take their place in
On my own apocalypsebased on
If silk could melt
to drip down arms and goosebumped legs
in scarlet rivers, serpentine,
it seems only right
that the sky should burn as well.
Like roses heaped upon a stage,
cloaked in tumultuous applause,
the end will fall in exultation.
Shall we stand upon the shore
and taste the salt upon our lips,
basking in the last breezes
before the Breaking?
These last days are a ball,
a promenade of bliss,
a eulogy of memory.
Shiva, ever the gentleman,
asks for one last dance.
On -Owl-based on
Night-eyes are watching me,
candles in the dark,
a refractory guardian on guileless wings.
Is that the click of pearls I hear,
or enameled talons, a hungry beak?
When she primps and preens,
I sometimes find
in her hair,
sleek pinions under her dress.
Good morning, twilight lady.
Mud Luverbased on
She spent the morning in the past, reclaiming childhood.
The raindrops felt like second grade, if second grade
could run down a back or stick hair to cheeks.
Red boots brought back picture books, mud splatter up to
the waist, disregarded. The way the lightning freezes time
in bright instants, every drop a crystal ball in reverse,
sharing tea parties that once were, and gourmet mud pies.
Umbrellas are a hindrance, unless they're used for dancing.
Time resumed at noon, when working women must punch in,
but the seven-year-old smile stays put, with the mud under
the nails that life cannot wash away.
An Angel's JourneyAn Angel's Journeybased on
It has been a long journey to get where she is,
Walking in this darkness for so many years,
Lost in the shadows of her twisted mind,
Reliving the pain, that she was unable to leave behind,
So this darkness became her world; a blanket of a sort
In her world of darkness she stands on a cliff,
Looking out at the waves as they dance in the sea,
She remembers how she got here,
Remembering how it used to be,
Believing here she was safe from harm
Where no one could touch her heart,
Losing her inside this world;
It became a sanctuary for her soul;
Darkness brought a quiet and silence
That was nee
Alone?Why is it I can hide?
Why is it no one notices
That I am dying inside?
My heart is cold & numb.
And no one notices the fakeness.
Will anyone ever see?
Or am I doomed to always
Feel like I am alone?
Trade with ToxicAlice92When the world is crashing downbased on
When I don't think I can
Hold on one more moment
You were there
Caressing my hair
And telling me it'll be alright
When the world turned cruel
You stood by my side
And fought back the demons
And when the past came back to haunt me
And caused me so many sleepless nights
You remained awake
And talked with me
Until I fell asleep
To dream of you
Every day you make me fall for you
Every day you show me
Just how much you improve my world
Just by holding my hand
So with every hug
With every kiss
And every softly spoken word of encouragement
That you make me stronger
That is wh
intestinal oghambased on
the future's pattern
scrawled in blood, organs, and bile
across the altar.
we look to the haruspex
to seine the truth from the flesh.
in sweet sympathy with all;
it is chaos given form,
one our minds cannot embrace.
its foul tongue, a locust swarm;
click and whir and carapace.
in bleak depths it was still-born,
the soul spawn of a dead race.
our battle is lost;
our will: less than meaningless
to the varelse.