the courtshipUpon this skin he slipsthe courtship1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hushed in enchantment
Soothing valleys of lamplight and fire
A touch of rainbow whispers
And a fairy's sigh
Come upon this moonlights kiss
To ravage in gentility
For I am yours
And within this night of eternal spark
We become rain
To arouse a life
Lost within a tribal drumming
Feel me and you will know our song
That Home AvenueI was wrong,That Home Avenue9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
about it all,
a fire was burning,
and the bard,
singing his gentle sang,
through and through,
stuck to his wishes,
like a child's home avenue,
so the ashes washed away,
set alight with anew dismay,
was in any way,
anyway to be alive.
So he tried,
he tried to fly and move on,
upon a new state,
that sang a different song,
he remember then,
the people he had left,
but instead of feeling dead,
he accepted what he had never excepted.
I am not colorless,
I am of the rainbow,
not like you but judged heavily,
like you say so,
like you are able to catch this color,
to be smothered by new desire,
but that's impossible sir,
because you must have once been confused for awhile.
Then he moved again,
onto a new place to begin,
twice in one year,
to only feel let down,
because you started safe and sound,
and now you want to die,
you cannot try to fly.
Taking a knife to your wrist,
eliminating the chance of the true kiss,
he met someone new,
Hide it.There are those moments where I feelHide it.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that, if, at all,
my hands were thought
to shape and form
to bring to life what did not move;
that, if, that given,
I would show
what sprang forth from the empty page,
I should not whisper it to any
yes, to nobody but you.
White Sunday 335: legacyI do not know what my legacy will be:White Sunday 335: legacy1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A cautionary tale of failure
or a soaring epic of love and destiny.
It is sometimes troubling that the future
is not mine to command, but I handed
all my fate to you, sealed oils
of arcane visions and herbs, blended
to make pigments for the patient toils
of one who loves, without condition,
without doubt. For I know my soul.
But my legacy will be permission
from what you alone control,
your heart. Fragile and fierce, blind
am I to your purposes and mysteries,
but bound by words both selfish and kind
to remain a part of histories
that you alone have the freedom to write,
for I am given and gone, I have leapt
into a space between the day and the night
and the vision of my fate is, in your hands, kept.
I know no way to love other than this.
I am a mighty soul and a powerful mind.
But I have released it all to you, a kiss
of urgent, argent dreams, I tie my bind
and satisfy my yearning in silent cants
that may never see the eyes of
Learn the motto for the pimpsLearn the motto for the pimps1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I like Ass
You do too
I want one
How bout two?
Nature's worthThe gentle breeze on a summer's day,Nature's worth3 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
to carry all my fears away.
Off to some other place, far and unseen;
a place to keep all the what-might-have-been’s.
The soft rain drops falling from up high,
from bulging clouds congregating in the sky.
Cleanse my heart and cleanse my soul;
wash away my weakness and make me whole.
The mighty lightening that crashes down,
to obliterate my demons all around.
Send your force, surging along;
help me face my fears, make me strong.
The delicate moon, light in a dark place.
Show me mercy, send me grace.
Light up my path and lead the way,
the path to walk every single day.
The tickle of grass under my bare feet,
the loving prick of the soil’s sun-soaked heat;
Keep me humble, truthful and unfeigned.
May my words be honest, yet unrestrained.
The scent that follows the storm and thunder
awakens in me a sense of wonder.
For Mother Nature and all she gives,
How is it then that you cannot believe?
We still cannot believe in Nature’s worth.
Black MistDifferent types of spirits surround us. Most of us cannot see them but some of us have the sight. She got hit by speeding car when she was twelve. Everything went black for a while. When she recovered her consciousness, she couldn’t remember feeling any pain. But that incident changed her life forever.Black Mist6 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Now, she is inside an almost empty theater. Most of the seats are empty. She’s sits on one near the aisle. She touches her brown pixie cut hair. She’s wearing a white T-shirt dress that goes down to her knees underneath a motorcycle leather jacket with a matching black worn-out combat boots, which makes her look an inch shorter than her normal height of five feet Some actors are on the stage rehearsing for an upcoming play. She momentarily glances at her watch, looking fretful as she stares at the actors on stage. One of them is teenage boy with dark maroon sweater. He makes his way toward the center stage, lugging a guitar with him. He sits and began to str
Weary KingThis king has lost it allWeary King6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Every ounce of his will to go on
He’s blown it all away
Even those who made me strong
So save your breath
There’s nothing left
This house of glass now turned to ash.
A shattered reminder of all you hated.
So I deliver unto you
My bloodied low man’s song
So you’ll know how to run the show
When my key is left here, and you’re left all alone.
So take upon your helm
This gift, my royal crown
And take care of this castle
For you’re its sole resident now.
That key opens another door
Leading to my tomb
A conflicted mind now laid to rest
Shotgun and vodka, to send me to my doom.
Glass-heartMind of steelGlass-heart5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Heart of glass
Achilles tendon, again you bust your ass.
Sheets of petals
Bed of nails
The compassionate's downfall never fails.
Aspiring to sculpt diamonds, rubies, and the sort.
Hands of clay
Always left broken, under the same damage report...
Lipstick Stainslipstick stains on my coffee cupLipstick Stains1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
from a process of thought
as the coffee runs cold
from each sip from these poisoned cold lips
each sip hesitates
a slight procrastination
to avoid the topic of thought
to avoid the cold taste
to avoid the long nothingness of a new day
allowing my thoughts to flow out the window in to the sound of rush hour...
the giftI want to speak of himthe gift1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the ways
That no one else has known him
To hold the thundering pulse of the mountain that he is
To stand before the sun
To burn in its shadow
To understand "painless" when coveted in his heart
These visions are the skin of his dreams
And they feed endlessly
As the droplet that becomes the trickle
That bleeds from the river to the sea
I know of no other breath
Of no other definition of freedom
He is my sonnet
My poet of laughter
And in my letter addressed to eternity
There lies my second chance
To sleep within the grace
Of his awakening dawn
White Sunday 328: barter for legendas through our dance I goWhite Sunday 328: barter for legend1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
it's not an easy row I hoe.
you're worth it, though.
you told me so.
and of such barters are legends born.
was Aphrodite as beautiful? were her eyes explosions
of light and life that summoned metaphors of distant stars,
in a scale and tale of rebirth beyiond the ken of men
who see nothing of the truth, as a fool cannot tell
diamonds from broken glass. you are worthy of song,
of poetry, of blind artists weeping their limits that such a muse
can only be derived in the words and works of others.
I have taken myself away from the butterflies and banshees,
frail delights of colour and dark creatures of prophecy and sound
that once abounded in my tapestry. I am content to have spent
nearly a decade in a prison of self-immolation, waiting,
if not always patiently, at least purposefully, for your tongue
of flame to make flow the blood in ancient veins again,
giving flesh to the golem and fire to the phoenix.
Fly with MeI long to share with you,Fly with Me5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
How I feel,
Every hurt that touches you,
Every whim that garishly ruins your smile,
Sends a wave of discomfort through me,
I long to share with you,
How you inspire me,
Every kind word you tell me,
Every smile you share with me,
Lights a fire in my soul that no one else can do,
Oh, can I share with you,
My longing for you,
How I long to feel you in my embrace,
How I long to be in your love,
Without a care else other than you,
Oh, can I share with you,
How wonderful you are,
Every time you run to my shelter,
Every time you skip away merrily,
Makes my heart grow with such wonder,
Share with me,
And let it all loose in this life.
Existence.In frictionExistence.6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the penetration of doubt
An answer i never seem to question
the solution im swollen
On the internal
i close my eyes
to the birth of warmth
these gentle hands
lay me down softly
to the existence of dreams
i wept the years away
as i awoke in mourning
To confront the decades
as i hold myself up to the sunlight
to become transparent for her
as i see myself
the yearning infatuation of pain
in this moment
i erase the footsteps
to trace the prediction
of the home i only know as you.
The Old Poetdelaying an anger, quenching fire with ice...The Old Poet4 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
extinguishing embers, drawing smoke to my eyes...
frustration through this cold distance and visions of a misty sight...
greetings of a hazy remembrance befriend with my endless night...
here I am outside, soaked in unknown tears...
it's cold... 'tis cold... who will behold now that my frailness unfolds...?
for I have faltered trying to alter this familiar fear...
scold me not, fold not my pages when memories shine like gold...
here I am, ablaze..amazed... lost in a maze...
rhyming empathy and sympathy with apathy...
overly indulged with... .... ... dot dot dot, fretting in almost everything...
greeting an old poet whose words supposed to mean a thing...
" Incidental Cliches of an Old Poet Who Wrote His Poems With Invisible Ink That Glows in the Dark "
the sound of gears and stoneborn in steel and claythe sound of gears and stone7 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
rising to press back the clouds
and scattering them with a wave
of hands and arms made for
the sound of gears and stone
shifting and grinding
shifting and grinding
walking towards the edge
of the world
pocked with the mark of times
when hungry beasties fed
and took me to their bed
if only in their minds
not their hearts
the horizon is never closer
and entropy betrays me
but not yet, I say,
but not yet, I say,
and I move through the night
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
brave and honest heartsbrave and honest heartsbrave and honest hearts5 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
never scare me
always dare me
to find as much love as I can
and set the firmament afire
desire burning through the wire
like an electric kiss
that misses the mark but parks
in orbit around your soul
elliptical and sometimes shaded
but never faded
I'm not afraid of love
what are you so afraid of
more than ghosts in the graveyard
where I'd gladly dance with you
even at midnight
so that all our old lovers can hover
powerless and flowerless
they made such a mess
and left us to clean up afterwards
but I'm a fast learner
and my afterburner
burns beyond blue white light
and in the night
that's better than a few words mumbled
when thoughts get jumbled
and it is time to see
if lips are for more than spit and kisses
as the steam hisses
and the jasmine tea you promised me
like poetry on a page you ignore
until you get to explain to the children
what you were afraid of
because I'm not that scary
dancing in the graveyard
and calling out the hesitat
Random Incomplete ThingsThe sledge hammer lands hard and Danger goes flying. On the ground Franck realizes he isn't dead and scrambles to his feet to see Kavinsky admiring his handy work.Random Incomplete Things3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"And it's a pop fly, Eldritch Nigger goes over the fence..." Sebastian rejoins them and watches as the mass of flailing limbs lands somewhere in the distance. He sneers at Kavinsky's 1940's voice.
"Not now Kavinsk, we've gotta move."
"It's coming back." Franck is already way ahead of them.
Lighters down and tobacco dreaming
but the smoke is not leaving
It should be an incredible sight. A tortured young man now completely stable and a subtly humanoid thing behaving like a kitten. The two continue to grapple on the floor and any other time Kavinsky would love to watch but really...
"Franck." He claps his hands once. The younger man and his familiar look up at the zombie. "If you and your pet monster are done blowing each other you think you could come help us already?"
When Gaspard's friends turned into
What Have We Learned?Gaspard thought it was strange that when he'd called up to Xavier to tell him he was making dinner the younger man just yelled curtly back down to him. Usually his friend would come down, curious to see what Gaspard was making and willing to help.What Have We Learned?3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He figured the other musician must've been taking a nap or something, perhaps he wasn't feeling well. However this theory became less and less likely as he heard thuds and strange footfalls coming from the second floor as he tried to wait for the water to boil. His curiosity finally getting the better of him, Gaspard lowered the heat and went upstairs to see what his friend was doing.
He wasn't expecting what he found.
"Xavier, what are you doing up here?" He pushed the door to Xavier's room open to see the shorter man standing shakily with his back to him. His shoulders were rigid and his arms were out slightly, he was trying his damnest to maintain balance. Slowly, the brunette turned to him, head moving before feet, one foot going achingly