I want Fantasy

25/09/2013 at 21:41 (Method Writing, Personal, Writing) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


I’m in a black-purple mood tonight. My head is a beetle’s back, a monochrome night. Bonelight, moonlight. You can try and follow, but the cats have business of their own, and I follow around corners.

My shadow creep-claws the way.

My eyes are restless as my feet, it’s not something I wonder at too much. Intro to outro, extro to invert and back again. Keep the streets for me.

I was an introvert raised by extroverts. An endless parade of parties and sorority-like gags, dinners and hiding behind floor-length curtains with my nose in a book. Hiding with the cats, down by the mud-gullies and creeks, wading and climbing trees, while they sipped tea and talked Nothing.

Lonely child, now come with me
Into the wood, the dark to find
The light shall fail within your eyes;
The sweep of love is only lies.

I did not fall, nor did I stare
But found the path that we all know
Now tremble, Time, for all is fair
In love and lust, and bonelight glow.

…My darling, the story has yet begun to take hold.
Abide with me, in
Peace (something like it)
Through the mirror, the cracks
Of time, the broken watch
The sentry fallen asleep
His round not yet done, but Time
Is an angular thief
And we are but stickmen in his gaze

A puppet, a clown, a fool
A black rose, blue
A thought, turned to you
A mental shroud, an illness tau(gh)t
With what must be, with all, without.

Come. Walk. With. Me.

Permalink 4 Comments

Borrowed and Blue

12/09/2013 at 21:15 (Method Writing, Poetry, Writing) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )


This poem is a play on the marriage rhyme “Four Somethings”, thought to bring luck to a bride if she were to wear the following artifacts. It also works as a ward against infertility caused by the Evil Eye.

“Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue

It has a direct link to my novel, “End of the Line,” in which a missing girl’s diary turns up more than the dark fairytales she left behind.
No One secret can stay buried forever, and a nightmare may play on a loop for as long as the secret lives.

Something broken
Something true
Something no one
Wore for you

Somehow fallen
By the way
Thriving on
The tide of day

 photo 8645f239-2c1e-4c33-b052-22a770d44af0_zps8e07f975.jpg

Rising shadows
Falling sun
Through the wild
We twist and run

Thickly cluster
Bramble snare
Tried and trapped
With wire and hair

 photo ffa4e170-ca18-40b0-93b1-679f5367934a_zpsa68d92a6.jpg

Flowing hem
And bloody thigh
Blue the moon
Within your eye

 photo 16584f32-4e62-464d-85d6-6472dfbf620d_zps7ad4365c.jpg

Black to white
As red to grey
Silent in
Your heart the grave

Morning swallow
Thick and cold
Torn the hand
You long to hold

 photo 1b28e558-2559-4c00-9b0f-77d90132e547_zps789bc941.jpg

Smallest face
And blindest eye
Blue the moon
The Rose, the Lie.

 photo e68f7f8b-5794-4872-aa31-8378548c6550_zpsc60f364c.jpg

Permalink Leave a Comment

ultimatemindsettoday

A great WordPress.com site

Attila Ovari

Loving Life and Inspiring Others

The Greek Analyst

NEWS AND ANALYSIS ON THE GREEK POLITICAL ECONOMY

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

The World of Moose

Moose's art and stuff.

Yanis Varoufakis

THOUGHTS FOR THE POST-2008 WORLD

Foreign Policy

the Global Magazine of News and Ideas

Raishimi33

My Thoughts, Your Time