Tag Archives: maiden

riparian

she is the

riverbank

that’s long

since dried up

i left her as

she gently

wept, a sullen

serenade

.

she is the

faint taste of

lavender in

my nightmares

i don’t miss it

all that much

but i still wake up

with wet eyes

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Filed under Poetry

Pretty Little Thing

Right before you fly you fix the broken wings of
Everything that carries you forward now
Patching up the holes remaining in your word now
I start to question what is real or not, pick apart my every thought
Dig in to a dark place, bury the thought of your face…

~*~

A wish to avoid a blatant lie

To a spine with broken bones

Waiting for retaliation in the

Shape of a forsaken home

.

As mirrors began to whisper

About the drama that unfolded

It all tasted like high tension

Keeping her weak wings faded

.

Fingers forward, burying blame

Twitching petals, her lavish name

Draped in linen, maiden serenity

Masquerading a sorrowful calamity

.

Of an oil painting melting away

In the warmth of this winter fire

Lost palettes ebbing and arching

An abandoned masterpiece dire

.

Grim faces arrested in quiet disgust

As snow fell and tainted mordant black

Onto the pallbearers dressed in drab

Carrying away an eternal chill in her heart.

~*~
Pretty little thing, you know the way to make me weak
But I’ll stand on my own feet
Shame on you for hitting where it most hurts
Shame on me for listening
Pretty little thing, I think you better turn away
My attention is ending…

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Saturni Ad Infinitum

~*~

CHANGE OF PACE

To see the clouds dragged down in vain

Another schism pulled away into disdain

An aftershock of cyanide writ in red letters

The austerity banished and again embittered.

~*~

MIKO

Disconnected dissension dwelt in maiden shrines

A lone voice seeks peace in a tempest of rigid design

In precarious erudition and fraudulent disputation

As her ebony tapestry is burned in laureate predilection.

~*~

DELLE PIOVERE

Recherche glistening in rusticated reveries of diamond dewdrops

An avalanche of labyrinthine dreams brimming to the cusp

Illicit, a monochrome heart searches tranquility in the midst of dissonance

Nihilism whispers for each staccato beat, as behind the pale moon, shadows dance in elegance.

~*~

TAKING BACK RED

Notches on the canvas that used to be the purest of white

Now reduced to common insanity, pilfering a virgin sight

Chagrined wish never uttered, held at the back of interface

And hope—against hope, that the ruptures will be erased.

~*~

CHASING FOR A GLIMPSE

Just tell me when you’re down, and we can go downtown

To paint the rain with auburn blues, draw on every smiley face a frown

Just tell me when you’re not alright, and we can stay all night

To pen about storms in chemical black, write until you take back the light.

~*~

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Miss Mercenary

You had me hooked, careless and cunning
You had your throne, but now you’re nothing
You had me hooked, careless and cunning
You had your throne, but now you’re nothing…

~*~

A maiden for the silken sheets

A muse for the midnight masquerade

Amorous amorphous on feather pillows

A demure bonny on the pasquinade

.

A madwoman for the asphalt streets

A machine for the telephone’s hold

Astounding magic and death-defying acts

Aspiration generation, metal heart so cold

.

A mistress for all your petty problems

A megalomaniac for your world to rule

Alleviate and apprehend momentum quick again

Apathetic monarchy for the masses to adore and endure

.

A miss murder for the mean memorial of the brothels

A monster for the messy and mercurial meltdown motels

Arrogant tease decadent, astringent, leading you on well

All before she shows her blackened eyes and drags you down to hell.

~*~

Fading like the makeup from my sheets
And I’m leaving, send the orders for retreat
I laid to rest this war that we called “love”
It’s for the best and what’s done is done…

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Snow Maiden (Winter Sonata)

Snow is falling, last train home
Hurry up, it’s been too long, I know, I know
Been on the road a hundred days
And I can’t wait to see your face
Come home, she said come home…

~*~

The disappointment is as palpable

As the ashes of a burnt linden tree

Painting nightmares on my tongue

Tracing rivulets of bruised scarlet

I wonder if I knew anything at all

(I’ll never feel this way again)

.

I wake up to scream at the falling sky

Waiting for melting watches to tick

As i crushed quinces on my fingers

Lost queries of my olive laurel echoing

Returning peace to my crystal diadem

(If I held my breath, would I feel a thing?)

.

Cleaves of grey accentuate my shoulders

Angles cutting against chilly winter wind

As I mindlessly counted cobweb snowflakes

The jackfrost kissing my unfortunate skin

It’s so cold, yet your spell is potent to season

(I’ll never feel this way again)

.

Was it my crime to tread past your virgin snow?

Snapping frail twigs beneath solemn footsteps

Looking for lime thrush amid robin evergreen

Distractions working their way into my heart

The temperature drops like icicles in my coat

(If I held my breath, would I feel a thing?)

.

Hibernating eyes reminded me of summer days

That never really arrived to thaw this glacial soul

Midst of mirages and premonitions of soft laughs

My warm coffee spilling as the steam train stops

I thought I was finally home…hope is a fickle thing

(I’ll never feel this way again)

.

Oh beloved, your nectarine gaze was mine to spare

Crashing the chrysalis of our failed metamorphosis

As arctic weather turns our breaths foggy, icy shivers

Last beyond the horizon. I never meant to let you down

I’m so sorry that I still can’t see why you truly loved me…

In this cruel coldness, I wonder if I knew anything at all

(If I held my breath, would I feel a thing?)

.

(And I’ll never feel this way again—

If I held my breath forever, would I still feel a thing?)

~*~

You’ve been waiting so long for me
I know that’s not that fair now baby
I come home on Christmas morning
Knock on your door, the snow is falling
You come out, come out to greet me
Wrap your arms, your arms around me…

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My Maiden of Lena

It was there in the winter, bleak and quite bitter

My maiden of Lena rested her heart

From her star studded hair to her very skin fair

Her purple eyes seek another restart

Under branches of Saturn she weaved soft her cavern

My maiden of Lena conceived fresh nights

Where the seas send their tide and no gravity abides

Her clasping hands captured faerie lights

Oh, humility endure, for her soul was too pure

My maiden of Lena tempted the beasts

Tragedy to cure! Must the Seraphs be too sure?

Her tiring legs carried her to the feast

Now lay she serene mourned in rosemary and naphthalene

My maiden of Lena sings lullabies

Her rested heart glows a feverish sheen, gone my innocent queen

Her fading lips whispered a lost goodbye.

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry

Calypso Syndrome

It’s strange, this calypso.

I never minded it much at first, dismissing it airily as one of those Muzak or background noises that you never really notice until it becomes an unbearable itch, and only then do you start paying attention to it. But in a rather unusual case, this itch of mine grew all the more inflamed, and eventually my skin opened into bleeding sores that are unable to heal. By that time I can no longer simply wrap it with gauze and bandage and pretend it wasn’t there, waiting patiently for it to close into scars on its own accord. And the poisonous tune in my wounds began to affect not just my veins, but my neurones as well. And for a pleasantly tintinnabulum orchestration, it surprisingly hurts.

The calypso comes and goes with thrums of drumbeats and ludicrous whistling and other intertwining instruments that I am unable to disentangle from one another to properly identify, and though I must admit it’s a finessed, almost elegant tune, it’s also making me conjure the queerest of surrealistic denominations and distorted, perplexing thoughts from out of nowhere, sort of like a surrogate deconstruction, an impermeable derealisation, but gradually worse in the long run. Somewhere at the back of my mind I picture cowboys with revolver guns and Stetson hats, mounted on horses and kicking dust and desert tumbleweeds everywhere, and I’m the unlucky pilgrim that got caught by the rope and towed in their blistering lassos. But I’m not biding my time to contact lead poisoning, nor am I willing to scalp some nemesis. No siree, I shall hack away at the abrasive bonds with a silver butterfly knife, drink a round of hard liquor victoriously at the saloon, and retire by the brothel with a painted lady by my side.

What…what am I even saying anymore? This nonsensical metaphor further drives me off the exploding rocket, that musical calypso pirouetting daintily in my subconscious like a music box ballerina spinning soft and delicate in its silent gears, yet at the same time gnashing angrily like an undeterred steam train wearing down its metal tracks with a screeching discordance. The residual smoke from either grinding clockwork machines is making my head feel quite hazy and warm, to a point almost feverish, and you might see pewter whorls rising from out my ears. My bonny maiden, what have you done to my mind?

My dear, sweet, darling maiden, forgive my ideologies and spare my heart no harm. What have you done to me? Your melody is luring me in, onto a cliff, which I could’ve sworn was filled with tantric torrents of stygian waters and jagged rocks brandished mercilessly to impale me at the bottom, but now it looks like a doorway to paradise, the palest cerulean glimmering softly like a polished sapphire, a fantastic reflection of an immaculate cloudless sky, though not of the greyed hurricane skies accompanied by a foreboding drizzle, that the sombre weather has to offer today, so I haven’t the faintest where the parallel mimicked itself from. Heaven, perhaps. And if I lean in closer and dare to hang one ear off the edge, I could almost swear that your harmony’s getting quite louder, less garbled, less shrieking, more pronounced and more than decipherable. I’m almost tempted to jump right in, if only to have to listen to that perfect symphony palpably, but perhaps for even more sensible reasons as well. Or sensible to myself, anyways.

My quivering legs are beginning to dangle off into vast emptiness like a terrified child testing the cold water with his toes, and every last vestige of my dispersing sanity and gracious consciousness begs for me to back away from this dangerous farce, to catch my breath and touch my back for feathered wings that aren’t there, to shatter my delusions along with my fallen halo and walk it off, walk it off and never return. But that would be like throwing away the most decadent, succulent, most tantalising piece of fruit the entire planet has ever produced, without bothering to bite down on it and get even just a single taste of paradise, and I know once I waste it on initial hesitation, I’ll never get it back.

It’s hypnotising, this calypso…the never-ending music…that ocean of eternal aegean…this perennial phantasmic phenomena…it strains my invocation of curiosity very much…it winks at me, calls out to me, taunts and mocks and jeers at me…I cannot take this any longer…I must—no, I will know…I shall put an effective stopper to this vexatious mystery once and for all…to cease the sores from infection and haemophilic bleeding…to slash away the ropes of the rampaging cowboys…to cool down this deliriously smoking fever…and to return to my ultimate empyrean destination with welcoming arms to my elusive fair maiden…once…more.

I stare downwards at the dizzying drop as I allow it to pull me in—

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Filed under Prose

Maiden of the Stars

They said that stars shall disappear

If you don’t count them one by one

They will blink out if forgotten, dear

‘Til all the lights in the sky are gone

But I’ll never let the tragedy happen

I’ve keen eyes, I’ll start with the sun

To the universe, I’ll be a star maiden

And I’ll keep counting until I’m done.

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Dénouement

Take a chance, take your shoes off
Dance in the rain
Yeah, we’re splashing around
And the news spread all over town…

~*~

Liquid dreams trickling on vinyl phone booths

Scarlet like cherry on our velvet sundae cone

Gauze of satin clouds swathed soft to soothe

A tepid peppermint tea that tastes like home

A demure pondering etched on a palimpsest

Calliope tintinnabulation of wind chimes sing

The Susquehanna river cascading chary west

Redolence of expensive pink perfume wafting

The vespertine serene, raven welkin starrified

Our pastiche of paradise, the cosmos taciturn

As I walk to descend the orbit, by the riparian tide

My bunbury maiden bides, anticipating my return.

~*~

You remind me of a few of my famous friends
Well that all depends on what you qualify as friends…

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