Poetry

Wicked Nectar

Perspiration glistens on your skin.
I hold you close and take you in,
Savor your essence before we begin.
You smell of wickedness, taste like sin,
And I’m a glutton for damnation.
Lost in your nectar I start to spin.
You’ve played me like a violin,
Left me ailing once again.
You never seem to let me win.

 

 

Photography: http://fav.me/d8yotki

 

 

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I Am a Freak

I never really could fit in,
That was my sin.
They did condemn
Those not like them.

They made me want to run and hide.
They crushed my pride.
I was too meek
To be unique.

But now I live my life out loud,
Despite the crowd.
I have grown wise.
My freak flag flies.

 

“Blessed are the weird people–poets, misfits, writers, mystics…painters & troubadours–for they teach us to see the world through different eyes.”  ~Jacob Nordby

 

Image found on pinterest.com

One More Bedtime Story

Dad, tell me a story,
Please just one more.
Tell me a bedtime fable
Like you did before.

One more story son,
Before I say goodnight.
I will tell you a tale that
I wish I could rewrite.

It is the legend
Of the Chosen One,
How at the end of life
His journey’d just begun.

He was exceptional,
Young, strong, unique,
An extraordinary soul,
The sort the deities seek.

They called upon him
Abruptly one late night.
With eternal darkness closing in,
They were desperate for his light.

Of course he was the pillar
They knew that he would be.
He didn’t hesitate to ask,
What do you need from me?

We need you to come with us.
You’ll know what to do,
But there is time for only one
To bid farewell to you.

The war between good and evil
Comes with a great cost.
To the others you’ll be gone,
To them you will be lost.

Return me to my father,
The source of this great power.
It is him I want to see
In my final hour…

Wait Dad, tell me now
Is this legend true?
Have I been sent here
Just to bid adieu?

Yes, it is real.
Tonight we say goodbye.
You are the Chosen One.
You, my son, can fly.

I don’t want to go, Dad.
I don’t wish to leave!
Please don’t cry father.
I can’t stand to see you grieve.

It’s alright my boy.
You will visit again my dreams,
And together we will fly
Amidst the silver moonbeams.

When you can’t see me Dad,
Know I am still near.
I will watch over you and
All those I hold dear.

I know you will, son.
I am so very proud.
You are my hero now,
Go soar among the clouds.

 

Photo by Steven Northup-Smith

Toxic

Toxic

Yet glorious

A bipolar conflict

Spellbound and revolted by your

Venom

 

Photography: http://fav.me/d7r3dqn

 

 

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Summer Solstice

The sun offers a

stay of night. Use this chance to

bring your dreams to light.

 

 

 

Photo by Brian Page

 

 

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