[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

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i'm not narcissistic like that Bundy guylust gushes through my gut
shuddering my soul.
i cannot know the power
if i never let it go.

little ladies, how they tease,
young and precious peaches.
i love to see their eyes go wide.
i long to hear their pleadings.

afterward, the detail work,
past the slash, the flow of blood,
Dexter scores no points on me.
post-carnage clean-up calms my mood.

but... actually...

i'm sorry for the ruin and rape,
the stunning blows, the bruising tape.

torture! murder! sin! sin! sin!
i promise i'll never do it again.

cross my heart and hope to die;
my thirst is dark, but i won't lie.

trust me...

llp - dA - jan2013

so cruel the collateral damagea village like one from Christmas films
meets tragedy, triggered by demons unknown.
tears in his eyes, the Governor says,
"your children will not be coming home".

lungs compress to a critical mass;
grief disperses the fallout far.
parents, stumbling, come to know,
where children were, now angels are.

we cannot suppose how others feel,
but as i age these empathies hurt,
sifting with time, settling in,
shared sorrows smother my hesitant heart.

the trolls toll this again today;
how 'craven' bespeaks of the NRA.

llp - dA - dec2012

Constitutional Amendment Number Twoon nuance, on dogmas,
on fears beyond angers,
on capitals and commas,
on imagined dangers.

on personal genes,
on personal thoughts,
on experience memes,
from what life has wrought.

on what we have done,
about what is anon,
and on, and on,
until we are gone.

til death... to there from conception,
what this is about is perception.

llp - original - dec2007
first posted in journal - dA - jan2009
rewritten/posted as deviation - dA - dec2012

aftermath of December darknesschildren wonder as parents linger
with so much extra love

suddenly today

only knowing that it's wonderful
and warm

soon it will be Christmas

llp - dA - dec2012

targetedthe inertia of what will happen, if
not somehow seen coming
always has its way

if even then
usually

so
.

llp - dA - dec2012

upon our misdirectionsin life, disappointments or tragedies occur
thus we encounter everlasting what-ifs:

from calm lonely evening depths
they sometimes surface to take a breath
[stealing perhaps a bit of ours]
revealing views of might-have-been
then they submerge once more

leaving a mirrored expanse

to reflect thereon as we now observe
not what we thought we should deserve

though we don't focus on that placid plane
brief ripples from the past appear
again... again...
again...

llp - dA - dec2012

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concentrate

by *alapip, Nov 9, 2012, 5:15:47 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

today's world is multi-task addictive;
it brings interruptions... uninterruptedly,
cell phone external, i-pod eternal.

it takes so much time,
plus time to earn more time-consuming things.

what about life?

we really don't need constant stimulus or entertainment.
no - we require the bliss of thoughtfulness, of silent focus.

questions require our attention;

sometimes all filters kick into gear.
every sense is quiet, as the mind seeks logical patterns, where

epiphanies partiently await our awareness -
epiphanies concerning perhaps a still beautiful world.

llp - dA - nov2012

concentrateby *alapip

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

our electronic toys
pursue us past childhood,
disconnect us from our
surroundings, from other people.

how many opportunities or great
ideas have passed you by, unnoticed?

neglect stifles curiosity...

pip

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*leyghan Jan 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

sometimes all filters kick into gear.
every sense is quiet, as the mind seeks logical patterns, where

epiphanies partiently await our awareness -
epiphanies concerning perhaps a still beautiful world.

Here, here!

*alapip Jan 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

pip

*halcyonshores Nov 13, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I couldn't survive without silence...

*alapip Nov 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

me neither!

~All-My-Darkness Nov 11, 2012

Possessions should never posses us.

Only the spirit of the moment.

On the flip side is when creativity strikes when you are really busy.

Now thats a bitch

Knowing the bubbles of words are coming to the surface
and knowing that piece will drown again before you can realize it fully.

*alapip Nov 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

...or just falling asleep.
so you rouse yourself to write it down.
next day you read it and wonder:
WTF was i thinking?

that's me

~All-My-Darkness Nov 19, 2012

I love that feeling.

Means I went with the moment (to me)

*megsmad Nov 11, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

yesterday i went to a music festival alone.
my phone had no reception.
i still checked it for the time and took a few photos.
but it was refreshing spending time with myself surrounded by thousands of people connected to the same music as me and disconnected from thousands more.

someone was filming the band 'cake' and the lead singer yelled at them to get off their phone and be here with them in the moment.
it was a beautiful thing.

*alapip Nov 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

if it was the 'Cake' that's been around
for 20 years, that must have been great!
[but a bit strange]

alone?

got to thinkin': i've only been to two
concerts - last one just a couple of weeks
after 9/11/2001. my daughter wanted to go
see these guys - [link] -
they're not pretty, but make excellent
music. i have this album around here
someplace. if i remember, the singer's
name is Jimmy Necco.

*megsmad Nov 12, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

what are you talking about, they are VERY pretty!

i really enjoy concerts and music festivals, the energy concentrated in one spot is amazing - wish we could find a way to harness it and use it, you could power whole countries on the energy of some concerts!

yes alone, it was so nice for a change

and yes, that 'Cake' the short skirt/long jacket ones.
brilliant.

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