CARELESS WORDS

 

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She was always on the verge of tears
Careless words colliding between her ears
So she weaved dark storybook tapestries
Obscenely dark tales full of abnormalities
She slowly liquefied into disappearing ink
As her world decayed into a horrible stink
Coating all her insides with a charcoal hate
And polluting her scribbles the color of slate

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9 thoughts on “CARELESS WORDS

  1. Reblogged this on 21 Shades of Blue and commented:
    “Under the surface of every canvas promise sleeps a light blue light staircase down — A wayward troubadour metaphor, conceived from a cryptic and mosaic prayer of the prime mundane windowpane strokes of broken past I’ve broken past for orchestrating minuteman music of static for the same, while tracing space and interlacing time and almost erasing my mostly neurotic tragedy… But nightmare’s eve still retraces what happens and the painting’s always black and never dry. My winter is cancerous, answerless and crawling away. No there’s no flight of ideas here to hear — Feigned ignorance and unspoken fears concealing cold-blooded lies and frozen denials only. Luminescent heaven presence inside — I’m questioning if my present present’s present is based on pretense. Is my work of art divine direction, or is my canvas the basis for the devil’s distraction? Oh please answer my wailing oh White Horseman. I beseech you Great Constant with utter surrender — Vindicate my soul fire’s blue ballad and prove my allegory story definite, true and right while as I do the same, in sacrifice for the same. I’m groveling in dirt, dust and grief for you Concrete Absolute — Don’t forsake my request to sate my open chest wound! Wipe my slate clean, but let me keep the canvas! Keep me from keeping its promises — Heal my crippled, ripped and crumpled wings — Keep them scarlet and still more silken in this storm, and change me from a mere broken bullet into more. Please! I’ve paid penance with this pen long enough! I’m begging!”
    — Ry Hakari, “Manic Attack/Panic Bivouac” (February 1, 2006)

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  2. Your photographic skills are on a climb, the parted water, burnished cityscapes, water escapes, here, and a few other places. Photographs and poems, lend their hand well to the craft and sculpture of story and tales..

    Like

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