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Devil's Pawn, Ch 1Devil's Pawn
"I wonder what it feels like to be dead," Karen looked up from her book.
"Why do you ask?" Jon asked with a small grin, laying his own novel aside.
"Well, no one knows. No one can know. Wouldn't it be nice to know what's gonna happen when you do die?"
Jon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Huh. Interesting, very interesting," he adopted a sort of pseudo-Transylvanian accent, tenting his long, dark fingers and raising an eyebrow at us. "To die, to be really dead, that must be glorious!"
"Yes, thank you Dracula," Karen's eyes turned heavenward.
Jon shrugged. "It's a damn good movie for all the bats are on strings. How 'bout you, Jim? Any burning desire to delve into the great beyond?"
I paused, unsure of how to express myself to the atheist extraordinaire across from me. "I suppose it would be nice to know," I said slowly. "But then, it's a bit, well, blasphemous, isn't it?"
Karen laughed, nipping Jon's biting, anti-religious retort in the bud. "Jim, you take everything too se
Catching FliesCatching Flies
silly little people,
in their silly little places,
with their silly little gestures,
and their silly little cares.
leaving petty comments,
making judgements with no reason,
and they just don't care!
silly little issues
raised by silly, silly people
who can't see more flies are caught
by being kind than being cruel
who are they to judge,
who am i,
who are you,
who are we to say we're better
than the other oh-so-very
silly, silly, little men?
Treat me Right
From every ill must come a gladness,
Joy upraised where sin must fall.
For all that´s lost there is a finder,
Shepherd hast´ning to the call
Of sheep once sorr´wing and forsaken,
Once blinded, lame,
Now standing tall.
And though you loved me only briefly,
passed on the other side the road,
Each Pharisee has still a stranger,
Who will stop,
Help bear the load.
Thou slime of Satan-spawn,
Thou friend, thou confidante,
Abominations thou hast acted,
No ablutions now could cure.
And damnéd souls which dog thy footsteps.
Guide thine actions Hades-bent-
These thou hast called up upon you,
Wretched creatures devil-sent.
The light of Lordly love, God´s favor,
has forever quit thine eyes,
Yet still I feel thou must be thankéd,
for making me so worldly-wise.
All these voices -
Flying through my head.
Some kind of happy,
Some say "wish I was dead."
It isn't fair, it isn't right,
Some people feel all right and others
Cry every night.
I don't care for influence,
Position or power,
But things that you don't think about
Up in your ivory tower.
My life may seem wonderful,
When compared to yours,
But that won't keep my head from
Fighting these little wars.
I don't think I'm ungrateful,
I don't think that I'm spoiled,
But sometimes I feel buried under
Life's little toils.
If guilty makes it better
Then maybe I'm just wrong,
Since I don't think that feeling worse will help
Me get along.
I have sat in this place and waited I know not how long. I have striven to remember the life I
once knew, but it slips away as inexorably as the water slips over the stones in the stream at
home. Home. I must hold on to this thought, lest I find myself not knowing of water, or life outside of this wretched path.
Yet this thing I call wretched is not. It is beautiful, so lovely, in fact, as to be almost painful. Far better to be imprisoned somewhere I can hate with ease. To both love and loathe is truly a terrible fate. Someone comes; I hear footsteps not far along the path, and, foolish though it seems, I hope. I fear this stranger will not stop, will not even see me, for very few do. And those who take note seem to see also that I am being punished, and are frightened, as I was so very long ago. I, however, did stop. I took pity, and that has been my undoing.
Addicted to Messy Kisses (Visual) I want to sit on the
roof top in your boxers and kiss
you while listening to you telling me about
the stars that made the constellations on my
face. I want to kiss you when you photograph me,
because that's what I want to remember: loving you
endlessly and boundlessly. I want to kiss you when you
are too tired and too drunk, and watch you slobbering all
over me, while I laugh in your breath on my lips. I want to
kiss you in libraries, when you'll blush and tell me to sto
organized chaosHis brain's like
reflecting muted light.
His brain is architecturally sound,
with perfect corners
organized into neat sections,
metal cutting the spectrum
into cautious pieces.
He tells me he's nothing.
He tells me that he's grown up
from the cracks in the sidewalk
like a dandelion,
and he's been waiting his whole life
for someone to come along
and blow his fucking head off.
He tells me he comes from a bad place,
and I nod
when all I want to do is shake him
and remind him
that everything beautiful
must grow up out of the dirt.
I wanted to write you a lovesong.i.
Summer rain has nothing
on the sound of your laugh,
little pinpricks of sunshine
lounging across the cobbled
streets of midnight,
cooled grey eyes, shining
tears of nightlights
glowing like stars in your cheeks;
in darkened archways,
hollow stone walls
reverberating through my skull --
back to earth, loving
taking root under the city floor,
breathing across cool hands
in warmer songs, notes
bundled under my sheets
thoughts that last all night
and drift between the rafters
of my chest
wanting at last;
pure, starry sky and
dawn rolls down the mountainside,
turrets and towers
crinkle-eyed smile batters
falling -- falling --
more delicate than down
softly into the clouds.
one life into another
the moon has sunk
into my soul; I am losing
but the bloodl
How the waves tasted your anklesSince you are the only sailor
of the sea that my moon-
child eyes so easily bleed,
I crumble to shoreline pieces
every time I press my lips
to half-neglected sea glass,
haunted by visions of the way
you rolled cherries on your tongue.
sacrosanct perversionhe is
my paragon of feverish intemperance
my blue-flamed boy nova
the burning of my besotted wits-end and start
the reticence under the gape of endless stars
whose abdomen fell
prey to my scathing eyes and starving claws
whose mien asphyxiated
by my irrepressible thirst
past his past lovers and navel gait
how i pine
for the warmth of his gargantuan laughs
for the coolness of his gaze transfixed
on my lips
blue-fire fervor and inferno
dearest penned don
grant me my sip of the holy grail
i would become a polyglot existence
singing of her myrtle and doves
and my mirabile dictu love
on every known continent
BloodlustIn our private heaven
We satisfy our bloodlust
By breaking each other's skin
With a shinny blade
And tasting the crimson flow
The flow of life
A life of lust and love
The love we feel
For each other
A bloody and guilty love
Of voluntary wounds
And beautiful scars
Our reason to live
Our dirty secret
A secret we both carry
With great pleasure
The only way
We can feel happiness
Two LilliesI found my soul,
in a white lily atop a hill,
a red wine sunset
splashed against the sky.
My heart felt her before
I could see,
the flower strongly rooted
petals blowing with a battle cry
against the wind.
The gusts overtime,
testing and strengthening
the precious growth
roots sewn deep.
I sat beside,
your petals open wide
nothing left to hide,
shades of white
despite the soil you came from.
Yet alone you sit
a secret scent,
for me to enjoy
as I read a book,
and talk to you about everything and nothing.
Late into the night.
dew like tear drops,
and I couldn't take you home with me
but I would return again,
Until the day I join you.
StarsYou fill me up with bubbles,
dreams and futures floating for me.
Using a line of chalk to draw my life plans on me,
outlining where we can go together.
Stars scribbled across my forehead,
highway across my belly.
Breathing in the cars, making a map of our love.
ways I have failedscarling I believe
I knew our stars were faulted
The same way I knew that I couldn't stand them disarrayed
I wove you slowly
into my tendons
and I refuse any dimension that finds us ceasing
just pretend I am a man
and not a knot in your chest
I will pretend that I'm not gasping for breath
you are my barbed catalyst
that I refuse to release
I will proudly dress my wounds in the mirror
knowing that everything will be better than I was
there is no part of me undoctored
no words ungreened
and no fiber untorn
you were never just a prompt
but you were always more than my thin hands could manage
I always knew you would outgrow me
My LibraryIn this place I can be fearless,
Here, alone, I am complete.
Fiends of hell and guardian Angels
Of Lords and libertines replete.
In this place are friends full-faithful,
Beauties which shall never fade.
The power-mad, the would-be heroes,
Dance in endless cavalcade.
In this place I find my answers,
Lovers who shall never leave.
Inspiration, flights of fancy,
Gems which genius wordsmiths weave.
In this place I 'suage my sorrows,
Here I feel I am reborn.
In books I live so many lifetimes,
My soul with artistry adorned.
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