Post by anirbas on Jun 30, 2007 21:56:01 GMT -6
The truth is,
unhealed spirits,
with hidden agendas,
even they cannot see,
abound and surround, us all;
swirling sweetly scented
fogbanks of lies, confusion
come uppance and recompense,
in one's face,
both fore and aft,
of their landing
and leavetaking,
in any given
individual's life.
Unhealed spirits,
that accidently,
or with outright,
malicious intent-
bear false witness
with false timorous glibness.
Then beg forgiveness for the pain,
they've caused, just so they can
smear one's good, if not holy,
reputation, next chance
they get, on down the line...
Unhealed spirits,
that awaken sometimes,
with the malicious purpose,
of bringing shame, without ryhme
or reason, to any and all,
that abound and surround them.
Proclaiming, when caught, and brought
out on the carpet, I'm innocent. I don't
know why I did that. I just did...
Please forgive me, this time.
And the next time, too...
I swear, I'd do the same, for you...
Unhealed spirits...
All that is healed within me,
longs to reach out, touch and heal...
Physically or phantasmagorically...
Other times, I look out of myself,
with the longing, fascinated gaze of a predator,
thinking-how lovely is the line of your throat,
how pure, simple and vulnerable-
as the unhealed spirit within you,
does glam it up and gloat by the boat.
The unhealed spirit within me,
satirically musing, how I'd like to
mar that graceful extension,
that connects your head to your shoulders,
as I rip it out with my teeth.
Not to suckle the treacle of your tainted blood;
nor to feed from the bittersweet meat
of your corporeal body;
just to shut you up,
to silence you...
Put you out
of your misery...
And me, out of mine...
~Sabrina.
May 2006
unhealed spirits,
with hidden agendas,
even they cannot see,
abound and surround, us all;
swirling sweetly scented
fogbanks of lies, confusion
come uppance and recompense,
in one's face,
both fore and aft,
of their landing
and leavetaking,
in any given
individual's life.
Unhealed spirits,
that accidently,
or with outright,
malicious intent-
bear false witness
with false timorous glibness.
Then beg forgiveness for the pain,
they've caused, just so they can
smear one's good, if not holy,
reputation, next chance
they get, on down the line...
Unhealed spirits,
that awaken sometimes,
with the malicious purpose,
of bringing shame, without ryhme
or reason, to any and all,
that abound and surround them.
Proclaiming, when caught, and brought
out on the carpet, I'm innocent. I don't
know why I did that. I just did...
Please forgive me, this time.
And the next time, too...
I swear, I'd do the same, for you...
Unhealed spirits...
All that is healed within me,
longs to reach out, touch and heal...
Physically or phantasmagorically...
Other times, I look out of myself,
with the longing, fascinated gaze of a predator,
thinking-how lovely is the line of your throat,
how pure, simple and vulnerable-
as the unhealed spirit within you,
does glam it up and gloat by the boat.
The unhealed spirit within me,
satirically musing, how I'd like to
mar that graceful extension,
that connects your head to your shoulders,
as I rip it out with my teeth.
Not to suckle the treacle of your tainted blood;
nor to feed from the bittersweet meat
of your corporeal body;
just to shut you up,
to silence you...
Put you out
of your misery...
And me, out of mine...
~Sabrina.
May 2006
