studiously she avoids gazing in that direction
where he sits nonchalant, almost uncaring-
minds send out signals; silence so chilling,
picking up vibrations, she answers the question
being very still, with almost no expression,
she slowly stands with her eyes measuring
the distance, she glides toward his beckoning
mind. her heart beat, was by any indication
making her state, an object of ardent desire;
visible in her stance, in her jerky mannerisms.
smoldering flame, blazing; intense, luminous
pulling him in too; each bursting vein on fire
blowing apart their semblance, volumes
of convulsions still unseen, causing chaos
I shoulder the sorrowsmile at the faces around methe chugging train takes me alongmy thoughts are miles awayyou are goneI regret not being with youfor the past decade-brunt of it sits heavysudden jerking makes my coffee spillI hardly feel it seeping through my thighswhen I see you next,you will be under those stones.my questions unansweredlay prone in my mindmy heart is chillythe train chugs along unmindful
When I get thereno one will know meif they do,I will hide from their prying eyesby drawing into myselfnow leave me alonelet me breath through the windowsthe cold will deaden me, letting me sleep"the train will chug along, come what may be'
I can't have mercyI can't let it bei can't let it goI will mess with youto monstrous extremitywith zeal, I will jolt youWHATEVER! CUT OUT THOSE RIBBONSjolted by my zeal-extremely monstrousthis mess that you createyou have to let it gobut I can't let it beas I never learnt mercy
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A taunt thrown for Sir Silley!
any sound gets her to the windowshe knows he isn't anywhere nearwent back on his wayshe misses the silence-his silence that had made her madshe wants it backthose highways, the small stops on the wayhis tattoos on his bicepshis crooked hatthe smell of gasolinehis brusque caringhis facade cemented into hershe trembles with that memoryencloses it to her extremes"was it for the best, or was it for the worst that wild trucker had taken over?'
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My date with the trucker continues. Click on it to read the rest of it. All stand alone and yet are connected.
in that grecian urn,
Sr Silley burns
I put gasoline
along with limey beansI think of tiny nibblesover his poetic quibblesyummy, I smack my lips
(while he bumps his burning hips)I laugh at his fear,
he weeps over his fiery rear
I say, go baby godon't be so slow
let the fire get you
let your face get more red than blue
I add a bit of wine
for that hateful s*ine.
oh my! my head pains
and in that instant it rainsall my plan go down the drainsSir Silley is saved
and words to that effect are engraved
here lies the pseudo-poet, almost-
if only he had burnt to nice toast!"thus our animosity continues with all shades of epic hues"
your tongue lashes outelectrifying words fall in-new leaf shrivels up
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As I am a mere female, I can't write good verses. How can words come out when I am kind of busy primping my hair (whatever that means), doing my nails and all the other suff that females do? However, I will make Percy Bysshe Shelley (ghost of) eat his words. As he can't eat anything else (remember he is a ghost), words ought to revive him from his smelly grave. So much for supporting Sir Silley!
two zero one zeroa year with two, one and two zeroswhat difference does it make?troubled world,traumatic mindsthis can't change with turn of the clockhere I sit and ruminateabout global warmingand unrest all roundI helplessly watch my creativity pouring forthfrom this self-destruction of humanitystuck in the quagmiregoing only deeper and deeperout of nowherea childs' lilting laughter fills those zeros, & reinforces the beauty that is life I say it aloud yet again- two zero one zero a year with two, one and two zerosit does have wings to fly and soar
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WIshing all my blogging friends a Very Happy Creative 2010!
