She trespasses the confines of this purple forest, the one I just i m a g i n e d My legs dangling in the air— u n n e r v e d by the lack of motion of recent days She twists and turns and sings and rhymes— Mother of verse Sister of bored d e s p a i r— with frenzied flow Her feet tapping to the sound of a tune only I can h e a r
She takes centre stage and then she starts s i n g i n g All facing an audience of flickering l i g h t s . She’s perfectly f i n e . The muse that inspired such musical m i g h t * Her voice all conveys the sounds of wild r e a s o n His plot, just betrays— some smoke blurring t r e a s o n . She’s perfectly f i n e . The muse that inspired such musical m i g h t * An opera dream a grandiose illusion a silent stream of utter d e l u s i o n All facing the audience— some flickering s i g h t . She’s perfectly f i n e . A standing ovation on opening n i g h t
rarity gravity willowy s i g t h s sensing the fears that pierce through your body mind soul and thy h e a r t * rarity gravity magical n i g t h s drying these tears all sensing the fears that pierce through the body mind soul and my h e a r t * rarity gravity subdued star l i g h t tearful, silent, day-dreaming we stumble on willowy s i g h t s * drunk with wild wonders day-dreaming we tumble, we write, dream, still, humble, f l o a t , w e i g h t l e s s , t o n i g h t
I gladly lent you my v o i c e The one you borrowed while you were still learning to s i n g We played air guitar with long, restless f i n g e r s No music, not even random notes, coming out of those make-belief s t r i n g s With ingenuity, we birthed a lyric-less and odd-tuned a n t h e m a l l v i b e , r a r e s o u n d , For this, our imaginary ensemble of dreamy-eyed s o u l s
night of the monsters land of the ghosts fighting the dragons— all the night hosts flight or free-falling at dusk— such dark ride wild and sky diving— a spiralling mind night of the monsters land of the ghosts fight of the dragons— by rugged coasts flight or free-falling— the sound of false tunes those wicked noises, all the sky croons play to deaf ears through all glossy trails— flight or free-falling, smokey travails night of the monsters land of the ghosts fighting the dragons in nightmares they boast flight or free-falling at night— such dark ride all but divining— a spiralling mind
cold-blooded smile and somber cues you think you laugh — but inside she’s s m i l i n g her fingers now holding her serpent brush — as she dyes new days with ocher embracing l a y e r s black stilettos found in her long-forgotten chest of time nearly crying out — barefoot days a r e o v e r while her canvas, fair sets those h e e l s alight, cold-blooded s m i l e — stomping feet through p l i g h t her fingers, now, firmly hold the brush— as she paints new days with ocher embracing l a y e r s high-heeled, great shine, warm-blooded, s l i g h t , you think she cries — but, inside, s h e ’ s s m i l i n g
i tried too hard to catch a glimpse of your soul on your fragile m i r r o r the one I forgot to clean when I got home really late at n i g h t falling asleep while fighting ghosts I’d only heard about, not even quite, i m a g i ne d for they never really existed, all but a fake reflection of your silent, deadly, maddened, b i t e
dreams are dreams— these dreams of m i g h t as night becomes a subtle b l i n d for storming ears and fears of d e a t h and silent smiles and rightful s t a r e s I sing I sigh I dream— We d r o w n those dreams red nights a subtle c r y and dreams are dreams— those dreams, t o n i g h t will end the affair, and cover, m i g h t You sing You sigh You dream— We d r o w n these dreams, such dreams, this s u b t l e b l i n d
You can read it here:
With this poem I wanted to pay homage to poetic and fictional works—as they become safe spaces where writers and readers alike can fulfil their desires, and ultimately enact their true identities.
Through the act of reading literary works, we can get a glimpse of these dreams and desires, and of all those perhaps idealised versions of ourselves (writers) in relation to others (readers).
Feel free to like the poem on the Spillwords page if you feel so inclined 🤍.
You can also reach me through IG: @lannazeescribbles – I’ll be delighted to see you on Instagram too.
Thank you SO MUCH for reading, liking, and commenting on my posts. I couldn’t be happier to have fellow bloggers enjoy my writing 🖤.
with his singers and dancers she could not c o m p e t e as she had only killer words to offer— to be licked and s a v o u r e d dark chocolate bites for lyrically sophisticated t a s t e b u d s he now wished he’d gotten an earlier taste—but was already perishing with languid b r e a t h just as he’d swallowed the very last lyrical mouthful of her poisoned s t a n z a for she only had killer words to offer— to be licked and s a v o u r e d dark chocolate dessert for his sweet and sultry cabaret s o i r é e