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Editing - rough draft

All Passion Is

She serves wine
not from goblets
but her nipples divine
all love such sweet white wine

They all thirst for more
then she speaks no more
tears roll down her eyes
all then runaway those guys

the world is a place
of laughing stock in disguise
seek no hope in sharing sadness
the guys beguile

then when you smile again
hiding deep hidden your pain
it may also rain
may snow become cold
but those men come on a horse ride
and with you heavenly wards fly

Wandering in thoughts

I touch the night
There is no fear of darkness
Moonlight comforts me
Starlight always there

Walk with me a while
Join my ways in thought
Sometimes we fear nothing
Yet take flight when at images

Seek out those dark places
There look at them as you should
Only a shadow you will say
Fliting light catches the darkness

Bring in your dreams of being
Drift as you need, scatter the light
Hold reality in your palms
Tell all that you see them

MYSTERY (December contest)

Dark smokes fill my lungs
A pure undiluted blackness of sort
It sinks my soul into streams of despair
And my eyes tears in blue
Leaving me a token offerry
To a world with beasty feats and icy claws

I have been sold out by life
The sunken teeth of reality tells me that
Truth is a specter and life is but a dream

Mystery and mysticism are let out in the fields
Left for infants to decipher even though they
Faint and tire from exhaustion and this spear.

Winters Cold Hand

The Cold icicles hung as decorations
reflecting all as in a mirror bright

Moon shines down upon new fallen snow
it glistens with a million fallen stars

Deer feed under the canopy of trees
unaware of my never ending gaze

Picture postcard pefect
but winter rests her cold hand
upon my shoulder
reminding me
warmth will be had



Who knew that the little he-goat will grow up
to rape his mother,
And even make children with his grandmother?
Ande, don't follow me down memory lane,
This rugged path will prick your feet.
This naked pictures of tattered childhood,
This view is not good for you.


Alone on this December day
in the woods where I belong
as dawn breaks in a frosted way
listening to some silent song.

Forest stirs slowly into life;
thrushes rustling in the duff.
Before long all birds run rife.
Jays call out both loud and gruff.

A pair of squirrels in the tree tops
chase each other seeking love
in that ancient dance that never stops.
Sun hits the canopy above.


Wayfaring alone in moorland's domain,
Walking along with the dead of the night;
Trekking, safely, a well-trodden pathway,
Suddenly spotting a beckoning light.

A warm and welcoming distant beacon,
A clear, bright feature to guide me ahead;
I followed the pharos with cheery delight
Allowing to let myself to be lead.

But then, alas, I met jack-o'-lantern
Impishly, carelessly leading astray,
Steering my footway nearer a quagmire
Fogged in the haze of the mist of the day.


I breath with faze,
moving my feeble soul around
making me fidgety.
Fumbling every time my mouth move,
My words turning equivocal.
My face is dark with rage,
Laying my head on my pillow at night
and the hurricane in it lits up.
Hoping to eradicate my tears,
Wearing my smiling mask,
Bunging my legs on the floor
asking how does happiness taste,
A conundrum question.
Raising my hands to sky
hoping to pray.
Invisible tears flowing like river.
But I keep fighting to stay alive.

The Fulcrum.

Turning to the weather.


How easy an evasion from awkwardness

Once was this

Talk of the elemental?


What ticks the downpipe brings,

Inundated with flaring rain

And the trick of glass shuddering winds

This is the mourned at,

Longed for,

Tasmanian Spring.


In matters of fact

Summer: as here described,

Is envied by eyes, in that ash fulcrum:

Across the dark straight divide

Where firestorms fight fear,

Fragments of home


Cursed ones

We are an image of a god that
has been smeared and battered with mud
We are the fallen,
Descended from grace
to be kept in a place of turmoil

anyị ahọrọghị ụzọ a,
akara aka dugara anyị

The gods played a prank on us,
They gave us a beautiful lie called Life
Our lives are a puzzle
We try to unravel each day

anyị ahọrọghị ụzọ a,
akara aka dugara anyị

We are jinxed!
The rays of hope is dimmed
With our sufferings,
We can only bask in agony each day


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