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LongingLove is a potent spell
written in blood
bone and ash.
It pierces lily hearts
and turns them cold as stone
so they fade in the mirror.
Gazing in my mirror
I want to write this spell,
carve it in stone
as my blood
is dragged by my heart
under skin the colour of ash.
Fire burns to ash
as I stare at the dark mirror.
Oh, curse my heart
for casting this spell
out of desire, the colour of blood
and want of a soul, solid as stone.
A swinging pendulum of moonstone,
an earthenware bowl catches ash
from incense. Three drops of blood
and rose petals on the glass of a mirror,
intentions clearly spelled
out in the shadows of my heart.
Take a knife to a heart,
bury it under a gravestone
as bitter rain spells
misery. Funeral ashes
scatter over a broken mirror
which cuts into flesh, seeking blood.
Thorns from a rose draw blood
as petals are ripped off. Barren heart
cries. Flawed reflection mirrors,
watchful as stone.
Love is poison, ash
covered dreams and magick spells.
When I wrote that spell my fearf
RiversideQuiet river, but never still
Running over weedy stone
Beech trees stand, wise and gentle,
smell of Autumn.
Falling leaves dance in dappled sunlight
as we pass and rest beside the fence.
Gaze into the shallows with me,
clear as glass, cold as the clouds they reflect.
A lone swan bobs by the bridge,
frozen by the click of a camera.
I reach for your hand.
Still the river runs on.
Pellinor Haiku SetBurn all the lilies
Move forth the Iron Tower
Silence is coming.
Reed pipes are singing
Moonlight breathes on ice and stone
Grief and fear will die.
A wolf is running
Through mountains, to home unknown
Darkness calls her back.
Care for the Lily
When the dead descend and speak
Love will make her song.
Cast down the Nameless
With fork and lyre and light
Treesong will be free.
Kirei no ki
Sakura no yureru
Kaze no oto.
Cherry blossom shakes
The sound of wind.
The Flower PrincessThe princess lived in the castle
Picturesque. Dreamy. On a hill.
Its graceful lily towers
Stood proud, fair and bright.
They cast shadows in the moonlight.
She was pretty, of course.
Eyes pure as raindrops,
Hair the colour of cocoa,
Satin skin like sunbeams.
Youngest of three,
Ignored. Alone. Free.
Spent her time in the library
Immersed in scripts and scrolls
History. Mythology. Alchemy. Astronomy.
Old documents and diaries, recipes and poetry
Scrutinised their scrawl
and memorised them all.
Most of all, she loved stories.
Thick, bewitching tomes which promised
Adventure. Escapism. Romance.
Characters whose names she couldn't pronounce.
Folklore, mystery, horror and gore,
She read them all, she wanted more.
And so one day from the castle she crept
Stole like a thief through the city streets
Cloaked. Booted. Inconspicuous.
To where the old storyteller sat,
cross legged with an ancient cat,
His silver tongue spinning gold.
His voice was like honey, charmingly sweet
He could talk for hour
Now I See The LightThe day was cloudy, filled with rain
A Heavy storm blotted out the light
and dragged upon my heart.
Frozen in time
I wandered from my path
Then cried at the stars, my fragile wish.
In making my wish
I stopped the rain
Then beheld the moon's pale path
In her silvery light
I realised the time
And put my hand upon my heart.
What has befallen us, my heart?
Did you not hear my wish?
Remember the time
When there was no rain
Only mirth and loving light
And I was so certain of my path.
It was straight as an arrow, my path
It pierced my innocent heart
But shadows fell over the light
And poisoned the power of my wish
Then black clouds did spill their miserable rain
Their relentless tears stole my time.
It's a funny thing, is time
Drifting by as I walk along my path
But you never forget the rain
For it leaves scars upon your heart
Oh, how desperately I wish
That I had not been taken from the light.
Now, I can see the light
And I dance in the fire of daytime
No longer need I wish
For I have found
Start RunningCome now, don't cry.
Leave your pain behind.
Let's run away.
Where shall we go?
Anywhere, my love, anywhere.
We can tip-toe away like thieves in the night,
steal over rooftops by the moon's silvery light
Are you coming? Yes, come on!
Follow me. Trust me.
We can dance in the surf on the seashore,
play hide and seek in the pirate's caves.
The wind will whisper its secrets to us as we sprint through golden wheat fields
and tumble down grassy hills glistening with the morning's dew.
The trees will bow low as we pass and embrace us with their feathery leaves.
You will be free. That is what you want, isn't it?
No-one need know who we are,
We can be anything we want to, my dear.
We can be the cotton candy clouds drifting lazily through the twilight sky,
or the tiny fish frolicking in a sun-warmed stream.
We can be sunshine and flowers and the joyful song that lives in everyone's heart.
They will sing it with us as we ride by on a rainbow.
What are you waiting for?
Get up, get on your fee
The FireThick, black smoke chewed up the fresh air and swirled around Star Haven, its oily fingers tickling the walls and pavements. Miranda coughed. This was no ordinary smoke, she decided. It chilled her blood and made her spirit scream in anguish as it drifted over her. It had dark magick in it for sure. Coughing again, Miranda hauled herself upright and rubbed her eyes. She had landed on the cobbles near the main courtyard, and her back ached badly. She was sure her body would be covered in scratches and bruises, if only she could see it. The black fog engulfed almost everything. The sounds of frantic shouting and the vicious crackle of a bonfire reached her ears, but they were muffled and subdued and Miranda did not register them at first. They seemed so far away. Once she identified the sound her head snapped up, alert. She picked out a dull orange glow ahead of her, around the edge of the building she had fallen against. Flames. The memory of the night came flooding back to her, and Mir
The Hunt: PrefaceIt was nine thirty. Not bad, if you asked me. Normally I didn't start my games until gone eleven. My footsteps died on the still air as I walked along the deserted quay. It was dark, apart from the dim glow of the street lamps which pierced the darkness every now and then. Many of them had fallen victim to storms and vandals long ago, leaving only a handful left which actually lit up. I preferred it that way. Darkness would give me more of the element of surprise I needed. Not that my prey wouldn't know I was coming anyway, they always knew. The dark nights were just a personal preference of mine, the blackness soothed me. It is always easier to hide from your troubles in the night and pretend you are something you're not. Plus, if I started murdering people in broad daylight I'd just draw attention to myself. I carried on walking, the kitten heels of my knee-high leather boots clacking dully on the cobblestones. Their rhythmic click clack slammed into my skull, my arms swinging loosel
The wonders of the world are at my feet,
creation's endless charity.
Golden sun above, it's warmth makes life sweet,
night stars help me gain clarity
... and yet I am alone.
Roses and daisies and buttercups too,
green grass and blue sky above me.
Mountains and valleys and geysers that spew,
ocean as far as my eye can see
... and yet I am alone.
New moon above and Milky Way heavens,
lights that inspire poetry.
Bright shooting stars and Northern lights events,
cosmic dance of life surrounds me
... and yet I am alone.
I hold this truth to be above all truth,
that what we need most, is love.
The absence of love makes earthly joys moot,
what I would give... to fit hand in glove
... and never, ever, again be alone.
*The Cathedral*Graveyard sparkles, coat of frost
Souls sleep in comfort none are lost
Yew trees stand's silent friend
Up the pathway faithful wend.
Illuminated Christmas star
Penitants travel from afar
Spiritual comfort, blessed peace
Worldly concerns find release
Stained glass window does inspire
Glorious colours flame desire
Insence smells and bells so pure
Winter Cathderal, open door.
Bathed in scripted bile
A vale of silence falling
Bureaucraticly hiding all
Dysfunctional desires rampant
A festering rotted core
Inequalities deeply binding
Insidious malcontents survive
A decadent soulless beacon
Fulfilling wanton desires
Hypocritically content miscreants
Unchecked carnivorous fools
Blackened evillest wanting
Lost in greed and lust and deed
Radical animosity revealing
Cantankerous inept pontiffs
Cadaverous satanic tools
Solemn service sacrificed
Screaming to deafened ears
What once was the answer
Has turned into misery and fear
Writhing twisted malformation
Unburdened of belief
Empty faithless vessel
Devoid of love and peace
FOR THE LOST CHILDI am a man who is lost in a child
And my child he never grew
His spirit within, my mother defiled
Turning his soul black and blue.
The years have passed, the summers fade
Still my torment it rages on
This man I am, cold and afraid
Hides from the waking dawn.
My little child is locked inside
Vowing to never come out
This poor little boy, he thinks he died
Existing in shadow and doubt.
I love him, this child inside of me
Yet no matter how hard I try
He will never know what it means to be free
Until that day when I die.
It is I who bears his lasting pain
Yes, ‘tis I that must tarry and wait
Sometimes I think that my life was in vain
As I sit here and ponder my fate.
My mother’s been dead for quite some time
As Cancer accomplished its goal
Below the earth, she rests from her crime
With the little boys heart that she stole.
I see him each day in the mirror
This albatross that I must wear
Bringing me ever nearer
To the end of this life we have shared.
God has set the path I must
STRAIGHTJACKET MEMORIESDeliver me up O precious lord,
Straightjacket memories, take them away;
My life, I must live of my own accord,
Of my past, I’ve said all I have to say.
Baptize me now, with hope eternal,
Do this for me so I’ll never look back;
Release me from this woman infernal,
Seal up my armor and leave not a crack.
Destroy this pain that I’m weary to hold,
And in its place be resounding joy;
Aged resentment is now bitter cold,
God won’t you please help that little boy?
Locked in a prison, he hasn’t a choice,
I am still breathing while he is in hell;
Give me the courage to now be his voice,
In my loving arms shall he ever dwell.
Thank you my lord, for all you have given,
Straightjacket memories, take them away;
I’m just a man who comes to you shriven,
Of my past, I’ve said all I have to say…
Let air sate you,
soak through your emptiness.
Fill your being with oxygen and
Do not let you
lose this. Life is not easy here,
and you deserve better, but stay:
To Everyone I've Ever Thought I Loved To Everyone I've Ever Thought I Loved
1. I was young and quite stupid.
You were attractive
and way, way out of my league.
2. Your influence changed my life
and i think i might
just still love you for that fact.
3. I'm not quite sure what it was
about you. Maybe
your taste in bands... or your hair.
4. You were a dick... I knew that.
But for some reason
I still went there anyway.
5. Times were hectic and you broke
my heart. But it's not
like i did much to stop you.
6. You were my biggest secret.
If only i knew
Back then that you liked girls too.
7. You were the first to love me.
One and a half years
LonelinessIt's that feeling when you wanna have friends,
You wanna be popular, and you try to,
But people don't like you.
It's that feeling, all alone in your room,
You write poems all day,
Someday that notebook will be your doom.
It's when you make one good friend,
You think things are going good,
But their life comes to an end.
It's when you tell people the truth,
But they don't know you, think you're lying,
And they lock you in little pad-walled rooms.
It's when you're only a teen, but you get drunk as hell,
Your so called "friends" ditch,
The cops find you, and put you in a holding cell.
It's when you think you can trust someone,
Been together a year,
But shit changed, they left you, didn't shed one tear.
It's when you have no home,
People think you're a psycho,
But still, the bullies won't leave you alone.
It's when you sit alone, Go home and get stoned,
And no matter how much you eat,
You're still skin, muscle and bone.
ArmsThese are a set of arms that I have not met
They have not held a true love yet
They were so small and thin at first
Never were they close to being cursed
They are stronger than I used to know
I had never expected them to grow
To my dismay, these arms are also scarred
There was no one to be your guard
Despite that, your arms are never cold
I rather love your arms, truth be told
They may have been once forsaken
Maybe even quite a bit shaken
Yet, here you are, arms wide open
showing all of your great devotion
displaying all of your deep love
Never again will their emptiness be spoken of
For I will be the one to hold you
My arms have done some growing too
Never again will they be rejected or harmed
I promise, in my arms, you will go unharmed.
The AngelI've been told that there is always hope
Comforting as morphine.
Until she pierced my heart.
In the dust
I saw the angel
dancing. But in her love I don't believe.
I do believe
That when I had hope
I wished for an angel,
intoxicating as morphine,
to guide me through the dust
and heal my broken heart.
But I fear that my heart
no longer believes
in notes written in the dust
or fragile hopes,
languid as morphine.
She poisoned me, my angel
on silver lines. Angel
who stole my heart,
seductive as morphine,
who no longer believes
in me. I hope
it's a dream, delicate as dust.
In the dust
I watch my angel
draw flowers. Hope
for the hopeless. Heart
of stone. I believe
in her lips, like morphine.
Her touch, dangerous as morphine.
Her eyes, ethereal as stardust.
Yet she believes
in nothing, my crazy angel.
So I stole back my heart
and left her without hope.
In the dead night, I fed your morphine to my angel,
then brushed the dust off my heart.
I believe your song will return my hope.
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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