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litha and sex magichow,
in the midsummer's circle he
was pressing his tongue into her
flower petal heart peeling out and tracing
stars into her skin hoping
the sage would keep on
burning, wasted away
into the cracks of the
house;
little cottage in the woods that
sighed against the copse
and the curl
of her fingers against his
back
her pale yellow dress making
waves against the moonlight,

the erotes were good to her that night
but asked too much
of only bodies they received
each
ascend & de-
cline, rose quartz spilling off
into the air

and the city, thick
& rot with
greed,
forgotten

One True LoveYou found me deep in the darkness
Even though I didn't want to be found
You heard me weeping on my knees
Alone in the dark; no one to love

Every sign pointed to different directions
But every sign lead to a dead end
I couldn't see where I was going
But the signs made it seem as if I can take any road

Every one I asked said follow the signs
Their smiles and hunched backs pointed to only darkness
Alleys with cheap tricks and lies
Cities that had so many signs to happiness

Brothels, bars, casinos, to even nightclubs
This place started to scare me
But I became so attracted to this darkness
I wanted to stay longer; maybe something here can mak

Tears of an AngelA crystal tear drop,
Blue as sapphire,
Beautiful in the light,
Of the Moon.
This shining jewel,
Filled with pain,
Of a child's last breath.
A pure emotion,
In this shimmering object,
A gift,
Unto the soul.
Yet tainted,
By greedy thoughts.
Wanting to obtain this crystal jewel.
Turning it,
From it's iridescent Sapphire,
To the opaque Tourmaline.
It must be cleansed,
It must be pure again,
Take it to the child,
The child of Forever White.
The soul will be lost,
With no way back.
Go cleanse it,
And save,
This unfortunate soul.

NumbIm numb, there is no rage...
Im numb, no pain to cause my tears.
Tired of this rollercoaster of affection, when family hugs then stabs me..
So tired of hearing, keep the past behind you , move forward..
Only to have my past shoved in my face time and again.
I AM a good person, with a warm heart...and that heart gets hurt alot...
Im numb.. Im tired and I never want to open my eyes to lies of love again.

the way home"we are made of stars"
they wrote in my
new book

he drew one of his
nautical stars
and I can navigate

by the light of stars
such as these
we are made

Frustration"My smile is fake today, inside im shaking.My bright eyes dont shine from happiness, they hold back tears of fear and frustration.Im not out walking in the sun to feel it's warmth, Im running away from the pain where I stay.Today is not a good day"

The PainterThe road twists like a river, like a snake
Brings me past trees on the hills that roll
The brushstrokes of a master evidenced
In the absolute care and precision that
The leaves are dabbled on, pointed
Like hands, like hearts.

And the farms, fields cleared, plowed,
Planted and harvested in good time
The geometry perfect, yet natural
The chronology - dare it be said - divine
And beside, the fields not man made
But cleared by the artist Himself.

Within I see flowers - white points -
Scattered randomly, beautifully
Lit along with the grass in an expertly
Executed wash of evening sunset,
Now disclosing bending, lovely, towering
Trees, oaks, pine

CrescentYou move the waters in me
make them flow along your touch
as you draw your marks and vistas on my skin,
inscribe the doors that open inwards
and let the tides rush in

as I read your letters, my skin still tender from the flame
I hear the sound of the waves
and watch the crescent rise

I know a placeI know a place,
where everything is pure.

Where life is a dance on roses,
and no one ever gets stinged by thorns.

Because nobody can ever be sad, hurt or ill up there,
pain simply doesn’t exist at any rate.

I know a place,
where springs of water becomes eternal life.

Where everybody can taste the water,
and yet nobody can drown.

Because His holyness and love is ever present,
as it embraces everyone in happiness and fill them all.

I know a place,
where the light is good and bright.

Where everything is lit up with goodness and love,
and nobody gets sun burned or feels alone.

Because God has created a Paradise of light up there,
me

Praddling Tides Of JudgmentalismHow is it you feel justified to judge me
Or to condemn the way I embrace my affection
Do you think you are somehow better
While you call my morality into question
Are you such a ridiculous drama queen
That you think that you're perfect and blameless
For there is none on earth that is pure
None that remains white as snow it's your faithlessness
That brings to question who we are really meant to be
Yet you praddle on and on
With eyes that never learn a thing
Because you are set in yourself
And see none other in their suffering
Arrogance so blind it can strangle the life
Out of the spirit of nobility
Sickening greed so powerful
That no more is t

barriersadjusting the angle of the laser gun
that points at a
caleidoscopic stew so far;
essentially, aiming
at the moon.

so trickle his days.

-

an alchemist,
he devotes himself to
alloys,
forcing the torrid and the
potent to
copulate
with the torpid, milk-white and the ilk,

sparking specks of
all the colours of the universe,
and more.
striking stone against
another, they
proliferate,

but never do
cohere
into a single pattern.

a scientist,
he despairs
over the technicolour platter.

-

yeshu rides through the groomed, hushed city
picking up prostitutes and cracking peanuts,
it is a tender
night and the wind rubs its head against his ca

nothing is the limit i am 5'10 barefooted,
and the 5" heels i wear
are to make boys like
you
insecure about women like
me.

i only want the clicking
of my heels to be like a
time bomb
for you, signaling the end of
everything.

my lipstick doesn't stain,
and my nail polish doesn't
chip, and everything about
me is made to be
perfect.

so look over your shoulder
and sleep with one eye open
because on of these days,
i
will
rule
the
world.

Fear the Darki do not understand why no one helps us
we are hurting
we are being hurt
we cry out for help
for mercy
but no one comes to our aid
there are so many people who could intervene
but they choose themeslves
instead of others
our bodies carry our pain like war scars
our tears are shed without evidence that they were ever there
we are always there whether you see us or not
we are always waiting for that one person who will
look at us and finally see us
instead of looking through us
or averting their eyes
they pretend we do not exist
that were not worth their time
or their help
and i guess we are not worth it
when so many people look at us
and see nothing
it's hard to see ourselves in any other light
we live in the shadows
we see how you treat us
we see the pity and disgust in your eyes
but you do not see the understanding in ours
because according to you we do not have
the right to be here
we do not even diserve the kick you throw our way
you think that we are just animals
lower than even th

IllusionsChaotically disillusioned
seeking solutions
for the deluded mind
Invasive obtrusions
leading to mental intrusions
sanity resigned.

WordsYour words that pierce like a knife through my skin, hurt worse than a bullet to my heart.
But you don't take the time to think them through. For the love of God won't you stop and hear the cries of a million voices, each one a victim of your ruthless game.
You tear others down to raise yourself up. Your pride gets in the way and eventually you will fall and see what your words do.
Like a needle to my skin, pinpricks to my soul. Selfish you and your stupid tricks.
Is it cool to shoot at someone with the gun that is your mouth? Does it make you feel better to rip others apart.
Look now, you terrible fool, at the physical marks left on your target. This game you play, it isn't cool, it's just sick.
But for the sake of popularity you continue to spit out words of acid burning through someone else.
I hope one day you feel the pain others feel at the cause of your words. I hope one day someone puts you in your place and makes you feel as low as others now feel.
Then maybe you'll learn to un

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First Things FirstI do not own InuYasha or any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi

InuYasha could smell the moisture on the air, invisible spray from the cascade of water ahead. "We're almost there. I told you it wasn't that far away from the house."

The trail led along a small stream, one that Kagome knew came out near the village at the foot of the mountain, one they used to flood the rice paddies, but she had never trailed it up the mountain before.

"So what is it you want to show me?" she asked.

"Something special. I stumbled across it a while back, but the time was never right to bring you here," he said. "But today's so hot, and Atae's a

Blocked Day 237The brain
is drained.

All the lovely words -
I see them fly
flowing out of my eyes,
but not my fingers -
images linger
unable to be caught.

I need sleep,
but sit here wired,
eyes so tired
of staring at the screen.

Bleh.

No Time For ThatI do not own InuYasha or any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi

The two travelers were returning from the local market day when the monster jumped out of nowhere blocking the path. It roared at them.

"It seems we have company," Miroku said, dropping his pack.

"I don't have time for this," InuYasha said. He carefully put his bundle to the side. "I don't know what your problem is, Ugly. Get out of the way. You're going to make me late for dinner."

"You're right on time for my dinner, hanyou," the creature said.

The youkai was skeletal, vaguely human-shaped, with long, stringy hair and grey skin. He looked famished, with sun

One October EveningI watch the drops fall
from your paddle as we glide
silent on the lake.
The geese circle above us,
Singing sunset songs of home.

Reaching forReaching for the Rhyming Dictionary

(To MQ, who triggered this while we were talking about slant and regular rhyming dictionaries)

I search, I search, for just that sound
that keeps the words going round and round
the language singing, thought unbound -
sometimes I beat my head against the ground
until I get the right combination.

I thumb the pages, speak aloud
even if I'm standing in a crowd -
my muse drives me to it, stern and proud,
until I'm trembling, tired, bowed,
wishing I had chosen free verse.

But then I find it, just the word -
my spirit rises, a soaring bird,
the keyboard clicks are quickly heard
as the muse, she s

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Stories

by =knittingknots, Dec 5, 2012, 10:23:11 AM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Free Verse

In the beginning
a voice cried in the nothingness,
and nothingness became,
then things went boom,
back to back those two,
creator and destroyer,
And breathing over the waters
the preserver wandered -
or so the stories go.

They meander,
our stories,
we weave them in in some form
or another,
creator, preserver, destroyer –
things begin,
things last for a time,
things go boom.
How red the blood,
dripping drop
by lone drop
to scatter in the wind
as they weave their dance,
a seed to bloom to wither,
and then to seed.

Taking a deep breath,
I ponder how we weave the tales -
I think of Siddhartha
sitting by the river,
and those who wandered
across the desert,
and blood on a cross,
and Schrodinger’s cat
and the eyes of a dying woman.

Staring at the wasteland before me
I bat away the flickering shapes -
specters, ghosts, goblins
crawling in the midday heat -
their stories get old.

The sun feels good on my shoulders.
Thirsty, I take a deep drink.