scribbles
Blue-blood poet
cold at heart
large,
your ego,
this swell night,
She’s a tourist
in wild dreams
of word orgies
blood verse
streams,
Both,
crossed lovers
madness feigned,
vintage statues
They remained
Wordplay
artists,
starry
nights,
warm-blood poet—
S t a y
t h e
n i g h t
New seas she sails with wet, wet eyes cold, purple lips a wild, wild heart A fighting mind one fateful tune one fresh start a blinding light New poems read with tired eyes a stunning feat those rhyming lines Warm, purple ink a healing heart she will, one day, recover might A writing sword on stormy fields she will in dreams all battles fight And conquer will those seas she sails those dry, dry lines a fighting mind She starts to sail she longs to write - new poems, wild, they will take flight New seas she sails a bright new night with drier eyes h e r s o l o w r i t e s
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 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
wording wondrous wreckage
imagining feasts of rhyme
and lusting after
verse-full fancy
ty p i ng
t
h
e
e
n
n
u
i
a w a y
through burgundy
written
stanzas
as
the
drama
Queen
she
wasn’t
meant
to
be
.
.
.
y e t — s h e ' d b e c o m e
.
.
.
and
then
she closed
her eyes
p
r
e
t
e
n
d
i
n
g
n o t h i n g
h a d
e v e r
h a p p e n e d
she wears a pink dress to hide her petulant d a r k n e s s turbulently staring as if she’d been living the dream and was now anxiously grasping for b r e a t h when she finds out about reality she starts walking the walk— those platform s h o e s the ones that so very silently hurt her slim a n k l e s towering over his thoughts, pink-stained, so very badly e n c l o s e d In the yet to be unmasked confines of his i m a g i n a t i o n
blue at night falling prey to those crystallised t e a r s pale verses written for you— o n l y and dissolving in the air like cigar p u f f s i want to kiss the immense depth of your dark f e a r s when you are blue at night, and hope for an answer to your p r a y e r s pale verses to hold tight to as if they were your r e s c u e r o p e s for those blue n i g h t s
i lightly caress the tip of that mike As if I was about to sing your yet unwritten silent s o l o instrument naked— my voice about to tickle Your well-versed skin and enticingly bite on your unsuspecting earlobe A mascara tear drops and blurs the mirrored image of our i m a g i n e d coexistence the one that will never be read aloud— same as my solo will never ever get sung it was your one and only a capella kiss yet that night you chose not to l i s t e n to my naked notes that bleeding nightsong
LannaZee 