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- Cellar Door -

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* * *
Thy lover, thy urge the untamable
becomes the one who urns to be tamed
when the curvature seems too unable
to bring back the ever burning flame.
The sin in your secret's eyes
tucked away into the folds of your heart
like a watch, hidden in a pocket of lies
where it should have from the start,
surfacing a feeling so strong like lust
with a mixture of heat and desire
rolled into a sweet assuriing mist
that puts out your heart-filled fire.
The heat of the moment passion, passes
like wind, blowing through lover's ashes
* * *
And sweetest Orpheus, the blinded man
Tried to steal our fair Eurydice
But on deceit his heart was pierced by those,
Those borne on wings, those with what was without.
I never shall believe my own belief.
For I am blind as Orpheus, you see
Too late, my rosary came to cure me.
* * *
I think my hand fits yours
quite well.
I think your heart fits mine.
Quite disturbing really
how I can't seem to breathe
without you.
I heard a song that was about you
and all the chords they reminded
me of you
and Wilde said honey, my biography
is for you
and we laughed at his stupidity.

You broke every bone in my body
shattered like a glass
and Wilde said honey there
aint no sun without you
and I cried at his audacity.

Round the back of the schoolyard
over the burnt out hills
under the cock strung blues
and into the melody.

* * *
The Heaven Scene, Angels in America; 2003

These are the bluest waters,
These are the softest sands,
In the eyes of Nature’s daughters,
These are the purest lands.

The steps of stone below us,
The rising arch above,
These are our encompassing traits;
Anger, power and love.

The inflamed Ladder Divine,
Leads to an Ancient scene,
The broken palaces of old,
The arcane landscape unseen.

Walking round the dried-out pit,
(No dirt left to wash away),
Laughing girls passing by,
Caught up in careless play.

The Golden Gates reign supreme,
A monument of loss.
Our Lord fled the perfect Heavens,
And the Gates are our new Cross.

Red robe around his shoulders,
The Prophet’s lesion true,
The white leaf of an angel’s wing,
Falls from the infinite blue.

His intent is to reject
The beauty of this place,
Return to the mundane folly,
Of the sickened human race.

How can he leave now he is
Here? The calm soothes his mind.
He could be free of his disease
And leave it all behind.

Blessings from the Arch Angels,
Will put him amongst men.
He would leave this bright Heaven,
And return to Hell again.
* * *
Hey Guys!

I have started a community that is for venting. You can talk about anything you feel like. You can scream and cry. We're here to be supportive and listen to what is said. You can comment on someone else's post and tell them what you think as well. You could even make friends. But in order for me to keep the community up and running, I am really going to need some members. There is no application. All you do is join and start venting. Thank-you for taking time to listen to me. I hope you all have a magnificent night!

http://www.livejournal.com/community/xx_vent_xx/

* * *
* * *
You could stand up to me,
And scream out your lungs,
But I wont break.
I will never break beneath you.
Because here,
Inside this head of mine,
I have one safe place.

Underneath all my gravel,
And within my tensed skin,
I have one safe place.
One safe place.

I have one safe place.
* * *
The Adulterer.

It was not long ago she left, an hour perhaps-
Tea-stains printed into porcelain,
Slightly steaming; filmy skin.
Tattle-tale propaganda.
It was not yesterday that her mouth,
Small and budlike,
Slipped silently with his into comfort
And threw us all out.
Our child finds, smooth and round,
The chestnut the colour of blood and coffee leftover,
At the furthest edge of a forest.
Ardently pressing it into his hands,
He sets for home, and Daddy Dear.
* * *
It's probably more than it seems,
and what's more is, it's probably not.
I remember the day you died.
How could I remember to forget that?
Your icy fingers lying limp
in the vacuum of the space I didn't fill.
I couldn't touch you, I don't think
I knew how. I remember the heat between us
and how sad it made me that it wasn't there.
You looked at me from beneath those closed
eyelids, and told me that you'd wait for me.
Where are you now, now that I need you?
Your nostrils didn't flare, your soft hands
were rougher than they've ever been and
when I grasped your tears to my chest
I couldn't really hear your breathing.
Not now, now that I'd killed you.
But something in what you said that
day meant more to me than the silence
of the funeral bells. It meant more than
rust on rust and the words the minister
spoke to tell us how you'd been, how you'd be
and forever be.

But forever is my lullaby, and broken babies
can't cry can they?
I lost the sun that winter and you fell in love
with me. Ironic really.

Would you have told me to leave?
and would you believe that your veins
were like leaden pathways across your arms?
I saw the needles they put inside you, I saw the
scars. Still see.

I've often told you that I would like to drown.
I think I feel the water in my eyes.
I've often told you that I would like to drown.
I always imagined you'd be here to save me.
* * *
Wisdom from the Last Creator.

He said, “You have to sweat.”
The words must ooze in sticky thoughts
Dirty thoughts and stolen breaths
From every pore,
Like wading through snow.
You have to force it,
Digging the ink in until
The eyes are caked with dreaming,
And skin is filmy with poetry.
* * *
(1)

I've not been talking today
I've been telling mostly lies -
And my Mother said "If you have
nothing good to say, then don't
say it at all." So I didn't say
a word today - I've been telling
motly lies.


(2)

I wondered if I'd ever
but you said I would
and I didn't question it -
It was more than my life
was worth. And you told
me that I could and for
the first time I believed.
No fancy words in cellophane
or cotton candy lies, nothing
but the pitter patter of hearts
beating in unison. And when
I wondered if I could all
you did was, held my hand
and said that I would.


(3)

I sharpened up your eyes
a little,
Adjusted your crooked smile
a lot
and stood back and cried.
Your lips were a
little more curved I think
and I really fucked up.
Worst thing was, I knew it.
You hadn't got it, really -
when I looked harder -
so I blurred your eyes
a lot,
and smeared your smile
a little
more than I should have.
And now it's really
over.
Because symphonies have
endings and carnivals
rollercoasters,
love is love in
beggers and in poachers.
"You ripped off Dyer"
That was the point.
The point you missed
when I stapled you to
my heart, to my heart,
and you tore it out.


(4)

Keep your words and your 50p.
Shove them in your pocket with
the lint I put there in Autumn,

And tell me when they fall
through the hole in the bottom
right hand corner and hit the tarmac.

When the boingyboing rings in your ear
turn around and smile in the direction
you thought I'd gone.

Now you see the trouble with winter,
is that it doesn't plan for heartbreak.
People just think that it does.


(5)

Forget me not. Isn't that what they say?
I've never understood it to be honest,
to be really goddamn honest.

Now you'll want to know why it is
and you might think my soul is black -
In fact you might be right, it sure
as hell aint white - You may even
jump the gun and tell me that I've
lost Arcady. But Arcady was the
glitter in her eye and the way
her eyebrows looked when she wore
satin dresses; Arcady died with her
smile. Bite your lip Tim and make
X's of your eyes.

Remember. Forget me not.
* * *
* * *

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