The finger tips on your hands arouse ice cold rivulets in my thighs.
You tell me it is because you traveled far to release my flesh.
So where is your warmth and lust of life that I saw aboard your ride?
You turn away and back to rip my bosom from its sheath of cloth.
All my vulnerability is open and taut standing attentive to you.
You have hidden your essence deep beneath Siberian caves, it can only be so.
Hindsight shows you for the fallacious beast, the arctic fox without a den.
Yes I still aim my body towards yours, throw my heart out so it bleeds.
The chill from your extremities excites my veins through to their core
An ice broken, shattered storm, fallen from the highest heights, I know mine.
The purest thing is to bend and mend and heal that craving from within.
Rape my body and throw it to the side and leave me lusting for more.
Showing posts with label writing ideas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing ideas. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
don't fear the darkness - revised
Threading through the forest of memory
the thickest of the branches clouded ways that would
otherwise be the fuel for the fire in your heart.
The hunters way is dampened, but the hunted
he makes a light of integrity and justice.
If only the call of knowledge was easy to decipher
for between the fore fathers and what they didn't know,
to our parents, and their children’s children,
who stare at the new generation: Civility a thing of fantasy.
Blame is thrust around upon majestic sticks of glory,
in metallic and frivolous pink armies storming the streets.
For the sake of nothing. Nothing is the brightest star
the one with lesser than the least of the evils
to understand is to wander through the darkest forest
even if you can not ride upon the lusty horse.
Shout as you want to shout and scream as you want to scream.
The tree's will hear you, divinity would be broken when uttered
so childhood deceives you in the memory of a darker time.
the thickest of the branches clouded ways that would
otherwise be the fuel for the fire in your heart.
The hunters way is dampened, but the hunted
he makes a light of integrity and justice.
If only the call of knowledge was easy to decipher
for between the fore fathers and what they didn't know,
to our parents, and their children’s children,
who stare at the new generation: Civility a thing of fantasy.
Blame is thrust around upon majestic sticks of glory,
in metallic and frivolous pink armies storming the streets.
For the sake of nothing. Nothing is the brightest star
the one with lesser than the least of the evils
to understand is to wander through the darkest forest
even if you can not ride upon the lusty horse.
Shout as you want to shout and scream as you want to scream.
The tree's will hear you, divinity would be broken when uttered
so childhood deceives you in the memory of a darker time.
'No Sparklers?'
No sparklers in the field within the fence
what a fright, for fear we may all turn to the feral,
burn ourselves, each other and our children.
Your offensive gang nam style plays on a screen in front of the fire I came for.
No quintet to keep me company, Cardiff, what are you on about?
And. No Sparklers!
Guy would have burnt your house down too
Tied a string through all the houses
Told you all to watch the barrels roll.
He was the original terrorist for the people
Ok Catholic they were, but he fought for a voice
Isn’t that why we all go out, mix with our neighbour
But no don’t use those sparklers people
Oh and stay at least 10 meters from the fire
Just in case Guy rises from the embers
and slaps you with your pitiful match.
Have you burnt down the houses yet?
what a fright, for fear we may all turn to the feral,
burn ourselves, each other and our children.
Your offensive gang nam style plays on a screen in front of the fire I came for.
No quintet to keep me company, Cardiff, what are you on about?
And. No Sparklers!
Guy would have burnt your house down too
Tied a string through all the houses
Told you all to watch the barrels roll.
He was the original terrorist for the people
Ok Catholic they were, but he fought for a voice
Isn’t that why we all go out, mix with our neighbour
But no don’t use those sparklers people
Oh and stay at least 10 meters from the fire
Just in case Guy rises from the embers
and slaps you with your pitiful match.
Have you burnt down the houses yet?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
My First Sonnet (shakespearian style)
2nd Version; almost the same, but it makes a bit more sense now and I have punctuated it - 24/02/12
The lake freezes over fragility,
as innocence dies, water has no shade.
The old elm sheds leaves from reality
little time in which a dryad can fade.
The seasonal anger is clock work true.
Though no one knew she was going to bloom.
The icicles appeared leaving all blue
will Apollo help break into her tomb?
A tight little place between roots and shore.
Dear elm, why did you wait so long this year?
A princess must be a queen to the core
day break sparkle brings us the face of fear.
Our fragile spirit knows not our time
Even though the frost strikes, committing crime.
1st version (as of 23/02/12)
The lake freezes over fragility.
As innocence dies water has no shade.
The old elm sheds leaves from reality.
There is little time in which it can fade.
The seasonal anger is clock work true.
Though no one knew she was going to bloom.
The icicles appeared leaving all blue.
Will Apollo help break into her tomb?
A tight little place between roots and shore.
Dear elm, why did you wait so long this year?
A princess must be a queen to the core.
Day break sparkle brings us the face of fear.
Our fragile tree adheres to our time not
Even when the lake strikes to take her lot.
The lake freezes over fragility,
as innocence dies, water has no shade.
The old elm sheds leaves from reality
little time in which a dryad can fade.
The seasonal anger is clock work true.
Though no one knew she was going to bloom.
The icicles appeared leaving all blue
will Apollo help break into her tomb?
A tight little place between roots and shore.
Dear elm, why did you wait so long this year?
A princess must be a queen to the core
day break sparkle brings us the face of fear.
Our fragile spirit knows not our time
Even though the frost strikes, committing crime.
1st version (as of 23/02/12)
The lake freezes over fragility.
As innocence dies water has no shade.
The old elm sheds leaves from reality.
There is little time in which it can fade.
The seasonal anger is clock work true.
Though no one knew she was going to bloom.
The icicles appeared leaving all blue.
Will Apollo help break into her tomb?
A tight little place between roots and shore.
Dear elm, why did you wait so long this year?
A princess must be a queen to the core.
Day break sparkle brings us the face of fear.
Our fragile tree adheres to our time not
Even when the lake strikes to take her lot.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The thief and the trickster - reviesed
Spit on a thieves
feet to show
them how you care
little for the fare.
Play cards, deal,
teach a boy
a lesson.
You do not
know he is a thief.
A thief is he
who shares his spares
and cares.
His winning hand
disgusted. Tight.
Clothe yourself
and he, for he
can take all
straight from
your hand.
Stay up straight
feel the liquor burn.
Do not have haste,
thriving little teeth.
One, two, three,
no four, keep up he
says you'll never
learn if you don't take your turn.
The smile seems wry
and taught, limpness
eyes drag you down.
Hoist your chin, lest
Lest you see,
you shall and now you
have missed it, pay up
the trickster has won.
feet to show
them how you care
little for the fare.
Play cards, deal,
teach a boy
a lesson.
You do not
know he is a thief.
A thief is he
who shares his spares
and cares.
His winning hand
disgusted. Tight.
Clothe yourself
and he, for he
can take all
straight from
your hand.
Stay up straight
feel the liquor burn.
Do not have haste,
thriving little teeth.
One, two, three,
no four, keep up he
says you'll never
learn if you don't take your turn.
The smile seems wry
and taught, limpness
eyes drag you down.
Hoist your chin, lest
Lest you see,
you shall and now you
have missed it, pay up
the trickster has won.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Old Hope - an idea from a conversation
2. Richmond Dryad
As the sun still rode
amongst the bark in the hollow
deep inside her truck
sat with the shaman. Shaman?
In a dead tree. No,
She was not dead, she grew leaves.
And we sat inside her, in the hole.
He chanted his verse all to hear
He was loud and we followed.
We asked and we laughed
willing her spirit to give us faith,
then I slept immersed within her folds.
Our lust for greatness
came thrust upon us from the city.
A moment in touch with old selves
elusive and just, we were in control.
Please dear dryad, help us be vast?
Departed and gone, I did
return years later she was there.
Still strong and I shallow, both burnt to the core.
We cackled long into the night.
A tree is a tree, alive
and not dead, but she cant change
what goes on in the beyond.
1.
I sat in a hollow tree with a shaman
if that is what he was.
To ask the dead tree for help
she wasn't totally dead, true
she had leaves.
But there was a hole big enough to sit in.
He chanted his verse all to hear
He was loud and we followed.
We asked and we laughed
willing her spirit to give us faith
Then I slept within her folds.
Departed and gone, I did
return years later she was there.
Still strong and hollow and I
cackled long into the night.
A tree is a tree, alive
and not dead, but she cant change
what goes on beyond.
As the sun still rode
amongst the bark in the hollow
deep inside her truck
sat with the shaman. Shaman?
In a dead tree. No,
She was not dead, she grew leaves.
And we sat inside her, in the hole.
He chanted his verse all to hear
He was loud and we followed.
We asked and we laughed
willing her spirit to give us faith,
then I slept immersed within her folds.
Our lust for greatness
came thrust upon us from the city.
A moment in touch with old selves
elusive and just, we were in control.
Please dear dryad, help us be vast?
Departed and gone, I did
return years later she was there.
Still strong and I shallow, both burnt to the core.
We cackled long into the night.
A tree is a tree, alive
and not dead, but she cant change
what goes on in the beyond.
1.
I sat in a hollow tree with a shaman
if that is what he was.
To ask the dead tree for help
she wasn't totally dead, true
she had leaves.
But there was a hole big enough to sit in.
He chanted his verse all to hear
He was loud and we followed.
We asked and we laughed
willing her spirit to give us faith
Then I slept within her folds.
Departed and gone, I did
return years later she was there.
Still strong and hollow and I
cackled long into the night.
A tree is a tree, alive
and not dead, but she cant change
what goes on beyond.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
The thief and the trickster
Spit on a thieves
feet to show
them how you care
little for the fare.
Play cards
teach a boy
a lesson.
You do not
know he is a thief.
A thief is he
who shares
and cares.
His winning
hand disgusted.
Clothe yourself
and he, for he
can take all
straight from
your hand.
feet to show
them how you care
little for the fare.
Play cards
teach a boy
a lesson.
You do not
know he is a thief.
A thief is he
who shares
and cares.
His winning
hand disgusted.
Clothe yourself
and he, for he
can take all
straight from
your hand.
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