Bold LiesLife is filled with artful liesGlittering, golden, precious liesThat look you right between the eyesAnd shatter as you realizeHow precious each one is
To my dear broken butterflyTo my dear broken butterfly [moth] :Your broken wingsImprinted with the markOf the tool instrumental in your demise.From wings to ashesThe colors drainedAs life leached out, out, and away.There is a beautiful poetic ironyIn your eternal repose.It seems that no other seesThe grim humor in death's trick on life.You see, your end is no end-It is your beginning.Only in this so called adieuWill you see at last the real world.The first world.The last world.I assumed that it was all in faith.
soul rendersoul renderI've forgotten your name already.slim hunting beasttrapjaw for a mawand claws that belittle the earthwith gouges in every fluid stepyour dance is quick and deadlyeach twist the rending of fleshbone brokena neck wrenchedthere is no art to your feastingbut only in the hunta clever capture each timesly, your eyea golden almond slitshine and last sightfills their eyes as the sky closesover a pitiful broken skulldrip the delicious lifebloodfrom the altar of ivorya circle of deadly white dancerseach as unyielding as the starslast, the tailthin whip of nightthe final wind they hearbefore the darkness comesfor themand takesagain
A Siren Song"A Siren Song"I sang a song so very sweetTo call a sailor I might meet.He came on cue to my beck and call,A comely man, dark and tall.I smiled shy, to draw him near.He came to me, devoid of fear.I drew him close, my lips so redAnd pleasure slowly turned to dread.By my feet were bones so white,Though I thought them out of sight.With a sigh I threw him to the sea.A pity it was, he might've fed me.So as he faded from my view,One last kiss to him I blew.
No LongerAshes of angelsAnd bitter slow dance,So many angles,Yet never a chance.You were born old,Yet you will die young.Forgotten and cold,Your song left unsung.All the bright thingsTarnish with time.Tattered the wingsThat know not the climb.Despite what I save,You're a slave to the grave.
Lover's Lamentspill out your tender wisheseach a shard of golda thousand shining fishesone day, two days oldthey flash and dartand dash and dieeach a smiling, artful lie
Shards of Aprilfragrant shards of aprillittered 'cross her graveeach a lovely memoirof the days she gavepearly pink and palethe windblown petals fallthe only trav'lers latelyin spring come to calltender shards of aprilcurling on her gravetiny humble remnantsof a life so bravenature's subtle tributeto a queen uncrownedare these lovely shards of Aprilscattered on the the ground