Party

I can’t say for sure where this came from, but it may help to know I was thinking of Hunter S. Thompson and his book “Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas” when this came to me…

A carnival of frolicking freaks
A party of perversion,
The night that rings with ecstasy
And speaks to all subversion.
The devilled masks that hide the grins
The cloaks that hide the grasping,
All shown in light from candles red
That flutter with their gasping.
A scent of musk and sweet perfume
A taste of sweat on skin,
To touch and feel with covered eyes
And drink the milk of sin.
The music of a countless moan
The sounds of pleasures pleading,
Such symphony to speak of lust
And fantasies of pleasing.
A night that’s rich with hot desire
A time for taking pleasure,
To hell with all may come at dawn
Let greed and want take measure.
Oh take me to this wicked den
Where bodies are the masters,
And leave me be in decadence
To stay there ever after.

Reblog : Moon

My muse seems to have taken her leave, and as such, although I have such a desire to write, my well is dry. So, I thought I’d look back at some posts from this time last year. Here is one I particularly like, and it’s also inspired by this post here. (There is one slight tweak to the original, I’ve used the word ‘doth’ twice in this one). I hope those who have not seen this before enjoy it.

We kissed ‘neath moon
that waxes so,
and wondered who
would see our glow;
when passions hold
doth grip with lust,
and skin is brushed
with starlights dust.

This night of shine
that pleases so,
with thoughts of love
in passions throe;
the very light
of lunar grin,
that tones the world
as tarnished tin.

Hold me close
and kiss me dear,
with you the night
doth hold no fear;
and in our night
with moon above,
we’ll show the stars
what it is,
to love.

To Rise : A Reading

Once again, my tatty little blog has been blessed by the dulcet tones of Fibee5 who has given me the pleasure of recording one of my recent poems – To Rise. I’m sure you’ll all agree she gives my words such a sheen of quality and meaning. I hope you enjoy listening to this as much as I did. .

Dreams Of You

Full disclosure – I’ve never read the original Lewis Carroll books, Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland, and Alice Through The Looking Glass. I recently bought them to rectify that situation. First of all, I was unaware of Lewis Carroll’s history and life – some of it quite eye-opening. Secondly, there is a style of poetry in there I really like – and yes, you can see that influence in this one. (The opening lines are inspired from a black & white photo I saw of the Paris floods in 1910). Still, I do hope you all like it.

A river black with books about
Words scattered far and near,
Flung about as autumn leaves
By wind so harsh and sheer,
What pain to see such pages lost
As dreams of you my dear.

A snowy plain so bright and cold
Made white from clouds above,
Deep in drifts of frozen rain
As pure as feathered doves,
Will still be sure to melt and fade
As dreams of you my love.

A forest old and full of trees
So ancient standing tall,
The canopy a sky of green
As natures treasured hall,
Before too long must fall and die
As dreams of you my all.

A universe of stars aglow
As heavens painted art,
Such timelessness in purple space
With planets far apart,
Will still one day be formed in dust
As dreams of you my heart.

A fire once did burn and rage
With passion hot and clear,
And in it’s warmth my soul did glow
With nought that felt as fear,
But ashes now are all about
As dreams of you my dear.

The Wind

I think you can guess how I was disturbed last night, and where this came from. It’s a quick effort, before the rigours of the day. I hope you like it.

It whistles, the wind, such a
Mournful sound,
And passes through curtains
Where nightmares be bound.

Dark pictures, it brings, with a
Forceful blow,
And turns peaceful slumber
To frightful tableau.

It screeches, the wind, such a
Fearful howl,
And changes sweet dreaming
To something more foul.

Dark letters, it sends, with an
Evil hand,
And shows to the dreamer
Such terrible lands.

It hammers, the wind, such a
Final force,
And batters at windows
As an unbroken horse.

Disturbing, it’s voice, with such
Chilling speech,
Heart freezing promises
Eager to preach.

It whistles, the wind, such a
Devilish sprite,
Disturbing the sleeping,
In the depths of the night.

All Hallows’ Eve

This is a bit early, granted, and don’t be surprised if it’s re-blogged at the end of the month – but I wanted to publish this today for you all. I hope you like it.

In collusion with these spirits,
Dark deeds are thought and done,
While wicked dreams a-plenty,
Will take free reign and run.
Amongst the whispering branches,
The wolves will chase the moon,
And in the ears of children,
The devil plays his tune.
Stars will turn in pity,
And screams will fill the air,
As horrors from the blackness,
Stand strong with evil glare.
The chill from open caskets,
The stench of rotting bones,
Will once again be welcome,
In victims hearths and homes.
For in the grip of Autumn,
When Summer’s warmth has died,
The twisted and the tortured,
Will own the world outside.
And those who be most foolish,
Caught abroad when day is done,
Would best be on their metal,
Be ready with a run.
This night is seen in glory,
To the wicked and the wild,
And terror is the watchword,
Among the the meek and mild.
So be not calm and trusting,
And do not be naive,
Unless you learn the horror true,
Of this All Hallow’s Eve.

To Rise

Faithful readers…
This is another case of a slightly mis-firing muse. I had the urge to write and post, and this is what came from the wanderings within my imagination. I’m not sure if it’s quite hit the target or not, but I do hope you can see some merit in it. Thank you, once again, for reading.

To rise;
And so sore above these lowering clouds,
Where such air, O! Such air!
Would grant this soul the view to
See all that may be changed.
For ‘neath this covering of grey,
What chance would I have to see clearly
These changes I may make?

To rise;
And so emerge from these blackened deeps,
Where such breath, O! Such breath!
Could be drawn and then used to
Shout this desire for change.
For ‘neath this ocean so dark,
What chance would I have to breath freely
Theses changes for to shout?

To rise;
And so awake from these unkind dreams,
Where such days, O! Such days!
Could be seized upon and used to
Forge this need for change.
For ‘neath this blanket of sleep,
What chance would I have to face the world
Such changes to then make?

To rise;
And above such dreary day to shine,
Where such light, O! Such Light!
Would be so cast and glow upon
These changes I can make.
For ‘neath this shy and weakened shell,
There is the strength to take a hold
And change all that may be changed.

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