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Post by dawness on Nov 17, 2006 23:33:47 GMT -6
not even the scalpel of evening's sharpness
can cut the chord
that hangs in my throat..
strings of songs weep they do not,
tonight,
the hummingbird breaks from the black of dark
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Post by soulfir3 on Nov 19, 2006 0:32:24 GMT -6
did my blood,
not stain your fingers ?
as you delved beneath my veins,
surrendering to your whim,
simply so that you might perhaps -
let me finally in peace, lay
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Post by anirbas on Nov 19, 2006 1:17:11 GMT -6
after midnight...
you'd think you could...
i don't know...leave us alone...
her...them...me...think twice...
stop using the phone
as a torture device...
try something new...
perhaps get on with your life...
and allow others to do so, as well...
after midnight, you might recall...afterall...
it was you that drew this ragged gash of a line
in the sand...it's time to move on...
you've metaphorically shot
all your toes off...
leave ours
alone!!!!!!!!!!
*question: if children can divorce their parent in this day and age...i wonder,
is it possible to divorce one's "adult" child, legally? perhaps sue for unmitigated
emotional and mental anguish...ggglgggl...and then, she woke up...*
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Post by soulfir3 on Nov 19, 2006 17:42:03 GMT -6
in the twilight,
of a summer day
it was your silhouette,
which cast it's shadow
across a vacantly held expression,
on a lifeless face
eyes, so worn
they are now a faded blue,
with a dark purple tinge on the outter..
where fingers,
once lay contact, to you
your breathing falters
and I've lost count
of the number of tears
wiped away..
or the number of echoing,
haunting figures,
of hell, which no one should
have felt
in the distance,
the shadows grow long
and I lose track of your footsteps
long after midnight,
I pace relentless..
never sure,
if you're really gone
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Post by dawness on Nov 20, 2006 1:22:48 GMT -6
hi sabs... that was hilarious ( the comment) ! thanks soul for a gripping gem!
--------
not when i soak in the taverns
of my highest peak
will you pound o the floor and ask for
some attention.
this is my territory of solace
not even the sun can dot my
light.
go away.
i am
now.
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Post by dawness on Nov 22, 2006 14:27:16 GMT -6
empty closets ravaged by anger
climbing upon the racks of a jester,
i stare at the back of your body
rummaging leftovers of a love
expired,
soon you will leave no breath to taste
no touch to hear
in a room once overflowing
with raw thirst and unbridled hunger.
invincible then, now invisible
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Post by anirbas on Nov 22, 2006 23:30:27 GMT -6
grrrrrrrrrrrreat poeming, ladies! enjoy the sing song sound reading of this thread with our thoughts intertwined throughout, mixed and mingled...most pleasing read aloud or to oneself...Nir.
~*~
oh, to be...anything but me...a fly...
better yet, a fuzz striped bumble bee...
buzzing in the crown of a magnolia tree...
my luck, someone would spritz me with pesticide...
leave me, grounded, gasping and thinking...oh, to be...me, again...
*ggglgggl...warning...certifiable fractured mind loose on site,
in plain sight tonight...quick...someone grab the butterfly net...hehehe*
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Post by dawness on Nov 23, 2006 10:52:38 GMT -6
ok, sabs... shoot up and be the butterfly you are! LOL!
----
erase the dark etchings
on my wall nailed to the cross,
my midnight is but a second away
from redemption of another day
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Post by dawness on Nov 28, 2006 6:30:21 GMT -6
i enterned your soul's tavern
at 3 a.m., fog greeted me and
in there,
the thick mist blew of a smoke
that cursed my eyes,
anger. rage. blisters.
my arms touched you.
gentle. tender. soothing,
till the winds of warm embraces
cleared before 7 a.m.
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Post by dawness on Dec 4, 2006 8:41:57 GMT -6
shadow power
i am powerful only
when the dark in me sees
the opposite.
'tis light when i accept
that brilliance comes from tis own
bleakness
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Post by dawness on Dec 10, 2006 9:46:43 GMT -6
cold then hot, hot then cold,
the temperature boils and freezes in a second
like a mood that
sicken even a pendulum.
how many werewolves pounce at
you in a split of a
second?
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Post by soulfir3 on Dec 10, 2006 17:27:00 GMT -6
werewolf you say -
- yet from where I am,
it is the fangs of Dracula
which I have felt
sinking into the softest flesh
drawing from soul,
the blood of life
singing sweet lullabies
of another time,
yet too come
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Post by dawness on Dec 12, 2006 1:31:55 GMT -6
if this kind of a dracula, soulfire is one that sucks the sweet blood of energy flowing in us, can we suck back a higher frequency to lighten and energize us, without leacing one more powerful than the other? sweet be this if two were entirely aligned.  |
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Post by anirbas on Dec 13, 2006 10:18:49 GMT -6
after midnight, girls... i got one of those phone calls... you know the kind...where you think it's someone you know...and they sound familiar and certainly sound like they know you... i thought it was my buddy hanging out and making a dollar in Iraq, building places in which soldiers can bivuoac, or eat a meal, hopefully in peace; and teaching the male populace how to run wires that magically or not, become electricity... we'd been chatting along a minute... when it occured to me...what i'd been assuming was an old friend, was instead a stranger, at the end of the line... when i asked him how was life over there... and he said, oh, just fine...laying here, thinking of how bad i want to tear you up, lady... what? no male friend of mine would ever dare to say that to me, in person or over the phone... this lickered and buggered up fool did not know me! push went my finger...nicked with a click went that after midnight connection...then, i glanced at the caller i.d.-- motel six...must be the place to find screwed up hicks with ticks and desires to call innocent sleepers, after midnight... even though i knew it was a random prank... i didn't sleep til i checked all the doors... i fell into dreams thinking... my life isn't all that bad... at least i'm not so bored... so pathetically lonely... i'm calling people, harassing them after midnight... just to make a connection... even one, that ends with a snick of click, pretty dratted quick! *what a dick! men!* ggglgggl... blessed be, DG and ladies...now off I am to take another recuperative catnap and re-energize myself for what lies ahead, through the rest of this day and night...Sabrina  |
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Post by dawness on Dec 16, 2006 14:20:20 GMT -6
this one is definitely an after midnight episode;one fro the books, sabs... movie material, huh? yipes, i can feel the air creeping, LOL
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Post by soulfir3 on Dec 20, 2006 23:18:08 GMT -6
Blisters rise from under the skin
a scorching reminder
of where I have been
Blood curdles black
and thick as tar,
Sticking against soul
strangling this life
Breathing is panted
harshly released
Blisters burn under touch of a lover
midnight demons
In quiet lurk
await
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Post by dawness on Dec 25, 2006 1:23:19 GMT -6
do not fly with me in caves
that eat your soul
to make the ravens live
for days in mere hauntings of
bodies alive.
fly with me in caves
where there are doves white
with with wings that give birth
to your womb
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Post by dawness on Dec 28, 2006 23:31:17 GMT -6
this time, no more weeping
this time , no more wailing
the replay of a broken record has ended
with the last drop of tear.
share then this goblet of a night
of gentle retreat gliding into my breathing
soul
mirroring your soul in my body and all.
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Post by soulfir3 on Dec 29, 2006 0:00:50 GMT -6
deftly portrayed is this artists ink
paintbrush slurried across
canvas, sitting upon curved brink
purple smudges smeared with red
green into orange
a fingerprint laid here -
and there
a face appears, but without a name
as another brush stroke
erases all that
might have been
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Post by dawness on Jan 2, 2007 3:55:10 GMT -6
what mask are you wearing tonight?
sharks have devoured the spirit
of the stars that babied your eyes.
and tonight,
the mask of sharks taunting and
controlling
greet my rabid cries
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Post by dawness on Jan 3, 2007 8:06:39 GMT -6
share not the remains of your
ghostly flesh ravaged by beasts
gnawing in your gangrene gut,
share not a dot of a thought that
has nothing but spite.
share not.
not.
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Post by dawness on Jan 5, 2007 8:59:33 GMT -6
bury this thief alive
even if his arms are cut by the very
lives he possesed,
traitor and ripper,
he walks with dead souls
he ravaged by abuse.
bury him.
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Post by dawness on Jan 16, 2007 12:53:38 GMT -6
rockstones swallow the throat
of a thousand screams
when all but the hush
of hummimg blood ticks
purge the refugee's
stifled dying cough
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Post by soulfir3 on Jan 17, 2007 1:20:44 GMT -6
what mask do you wear tonight,
one of vivid blue and white
where only the black of eye
is what gives you away
under your veil,
from where you seem
content to hide
~
so happy to play pretend
that you must stay out of sight
creeping back into that hole of yours
at the first sign of life
~
i wish you were a spider
and from up here on chair
i would drop this heavy book
and watch your legs
squirm in nerve ending succesion
as you lose that last
breath of air
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Post by anirbas on Jan 17, 2007 20:02:47 GMT -6
girls, ya'll are smoking in here! grrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat stuff, DG and S'fir! Nir
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Post by dawness on Jan 23, 2007 1:12:10 GMT -6
tears of crocodile made
scaly skin of guilt
presses on your games,
be then what you are
a pretender that feeds
on hearts sublime.
wimp!
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Post by soulfir3 on Jan 23, 2007 4:13:32 GMT -6
into slithering transformation
i watched with very own eyes
your scaly hide become visible
under your poorly worn disguise
with sickly smile
and slate coloured eyes
my heart trembled with fear
and from darkest nightmares,
i felt you crawl over me
taking me by surprise
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Post by dawness on Jan 29, 2007 11:04:45 GMT -6
week after week
you test my words
blunt, burnt, bruised
it is not my charcoal that sizzles
into ruthless sharpness,
your appetite for poison
cremates your own dead skin
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Post by dawness on Feb 1, 2007 4:36:51 GMT -6
hushed night eroded by hours
of banging heart thuds
unspoken
unheard
not even by the passing wind that
wanted to console
a bleeding, grieving
spirit.
she woke between two to three in the morning
the luggage gone,
her own baggage
still resting heavily
in her caving chest
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Post by soulfir3 on Feb 1, 2007 4:44:55 GMT -6
death comes not swiftly enough
for he who stands before the devil
kneeling to worship the blood
which stains his hand and feet
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