|
|
|
|
 |
| PIXIE'S POETRY PAGE |
NIGHT SPACE EVERY NIGHT DEATH COMES BEATING AT MY BODIES DOOR TRYING TO CAPTURE MY HEART SATURATE MY SOUL RAPING AT MY MIND TEARING AT MY NERVES LAYING IN A BED OF TAINTED SWEAT A TIME OLD TRADITION FOR ME. WONDERING IF THIS TIME WILL BE LIKE LAST TIME OR WAS LAST TIME ONLY THE BEGINNING OF NOTHINGNESS MY MIND WONDERS IF THIS WILL BE THE END OF IT ALL VOICELESS MINDLESS SOULESS NERVELESS THESE ARE THINGS WE NEED TO PASS THE TIME |
TRIVIAL THOUGHTS LAYING LAZILY IN A FIELD OF DEWDROPS IN THE SUBTLE SHADE I LAY. HERE AM I SIPPING HERBAL TEA AND SURROUDING MYSELF WITH INCENSE HERE AM I COMFORTABLY AS A SOLEMN-BY-MYSELF PERSON WATCHING THE DECLINE OF MORAL VALUES, ETHICS OF MY NATIVE PEOPLE. COME HEAR THE STEADY BEAT OF THE DRUMS COME SWAY WITH THE STRUMMING STRINGS IN TUNE WITH YOUR SOUL. COME DANCE AROUND MY FIRE COME GAZE UPON MY FLAME ENRAPTURE YOURSELF IN MY AURA AND THOU SHALL NEVER FEEL THE SAME. |
| I WATCHED AS THE LAST KNOWING ESCAPED HIM.... I'VE SEEN HIM IN MY DREAMS. HE STEPS QUICKLY WITH A CONFIDENT STRIDE. BLESSING THE WINDS AS HE SWIFTLY MOVES. I REMEMBER DISTINCTLY HIS DARK TRESSES..I'M SMITTEN ALL OVER AGAIN BY MERE REMEMBERANCE..AND THE WAY HE BRUSHED HIS HAIR BEHIND HIS EAR.. HE SOARS WITH EAGLES BY DAY WITH BROTHER SUN HIGH UP IN THE SKY HE WRESTLES AMONG THE WOLVES AT NIGHT WITH LUNAR LADY WATCHING BY. I HAVE ONLY CHANCES TO SEE HIM IN FLASHES ..FRAGMENTS..GIVEN BY DEJA VOU DREAMS. JUST A TEASE FROM THE GODS OF DISPLEASURE SO IT SEEMS. |
 |
| CLICK ABOVE TO RETURN TO MY HOMEPAGE |
| WAM BAM THANK YOU MAAM |
LOVE IS BACK TO VISIT. AMONG IT'S LUGGAGE COMES ECSTASIES RECENT MEMORIES OF PLEASURE, BE GONE HISTORIES OF PAIN. HIS HANDS KNEW TOO MUCH, YET HIS HEART NOT ENOUGH. SURELY SHE WAS NOT MEANT TO BLOOM AND DIE? CARESSES TEASE, PLEASURE, AND RELEASE. DON'T FORGET THE AFTERGLOW. NONE OF THIS IS NEW TO HER, AS SHE LIGHTS HER LAST CIGARRETE. HE LIGHTS THE FIRE AND THEN RETURNS WHEN SHE IS WHOLE. NATURE PLAYS MUCH THE SAME, SPRING COMES AGAIN. THE LEAF ONCE MORE DECORATES THE TREE. SHE CAN TAKE NO MORE, HER CUP IS TOO FULL. THE SLIGHTEST DISRUPTION WILL SPILL IT'S CONTENTS. SHE CANNOT...WILL NOT...FILL IT BACK UP. SHE IS OUT OF COFFEE TO SHARE. HE'D BEST TRY THE CAFE DOWN THE STREET. LATE AT NIGHT, LIKE YOU COME TO ME. |
| ALL POETRY ON THIS PAGE BELONGS TO CONNY AKA PIXIE. . PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REWRITE FOR YOUR OWN USE!!! *Glares at Vicky* |