[x]

Mongrels Don't LieThe pedigrees love us
(With denial)
But I know
Mongrels Don't Lie.

Dancing is hard
When balancing on
a thousand grey angels
Mongrels Don't Lie.

Acceptance?
The monarchy speaks politics, yet
their Schrödinger is monochrome
Mongrels Don't Lie.

I'm in a doghouse,
For no reason but
for the Fascists tongue is too sharp
Mongrels Don't Lie.

The denial of permanence,
Clutching to the cliff edge
of a train; a weak Marxist keeping re-form drown in rats
Mongrels Don't Lie.

Juggling a Journey In Truth,
With the White Queen: Joy in Lies,
Could she accept a coal miner? Or would I unravel into thread?
Mongrels Don't Lie.

I loo

I lost youAn impression
is all that remains
of where you once were,
sheets the same
as you left them
as I haven't slept
since you left me.
I pray to a god
that I don't believe in
for you to return,
but you will never
be in my bed
or in my arms again.
Tears roll down
and they coalesce
with all the rest
as we watch
you being lowered
and I realize
that the hole
is your bed now
and the silk
is where your
impression will lie
without me
until I find the courage
to join you
in the dark.

The Essence of a Lynxthe ember glow of autumn
touched my hidden spark
flames broke out from fairy circles
dancing in the dark
and then they leapt!
from branch to branch
from tail to whisker, paw to claw
glowing dots down the flaming fur
and just look at all these stripes!

my thoughts purr on as days grow long
of silken fur my quiet song
made of leaves, twigs and clay
pouncing, prowling, endless play
silent whispers out of sight
hidden from the dead of night
sheltered from the coming snow
by waning moons and ember glow

Dionaea MuscipulaWatch and be enthralled as
Aphrodite lullabies with love songs
using her luscious lips and
nimble tongue, trident-pronged-
promises so serene, one cannot resist
She is like cursed vino
maddening yet too numbing, too giving of peace of mind
for a drunk to refuse slipping sips

All hail! All hail!

One can only imagine how succulent
the dew caressing her form must be
As the liquid collects
into her cavities,
You fall deeper
into the mercy of her eyes;
in their reflection is you, utterly mesmerized

You are a gaunt-legged youth
and as you approach the diosa
so do you your desolation

All hail! All hail!

Her fingers are hing

Encroaching TerrorHuckle-hunting crack-backed worms
'neath jeering, leering tangled forms.
Branches breaking, bending, sending
shivers down my mangled spine.

Fine, everything's just fine.
Backward glancing, I see dancing
shadows, shadows that aren't mine.

Time, time ever racing, chasing,
pacing, my footsteps ever hastening;
tasting the seconds as they fade away.

Decay comes quickly, sickly;
stenches, wrenches my groaning gut.
Moaning, roaming through the leaves,
weaves the yearning, burning thing of night.

Sight, I am robbed of sight.
Blinding, something hidden binding,
twining, snaking round my aching useless eyes.

Sighs, the sighs of

Altamura A Spanish lament
blooms in high halls; ... in incarcerated windows
unflowering on the marble almost touching the vines
then pouring and straining in their stony spouse's eyes
through jigsawed cobbled streets. a length of breath away.

... and intermittently pulsing strings The sadness of the World
spray the orange from the lamps sprouts in between the crevasses
painting the cries ripe and full of taste -
and mellowing the sorrow. a feast for crows

Shattered Bouquets and Dismembered Fairiesi picked you twelve roses with splintered stems,
trampled beneath the hooves of a skeletal winter wind,
crushed between it's daggered teeth,
broken petals pressed into the pages of an album painted black and white.

if it were spring, i would give you every butterfly.
monarch wings pinned to the merlot walls of your insides,
would the colours shine through your skylit eyes?
a somewhat macabre reflection of metaphorical insects sacrificed
to sate your thirst for brighter shades.
i want to give you butterflies.

MelancholiaI crawled beneath the skin,
nails taking crescent moons
to labored arteries,
where life birthed.

I gave rash to skin, rippling in marrow,
bulging flesh and pore…
all to break free.

I laid beneath scarlet muscle
sick with Loneliness: a bittersweet
disease of rusting hearts.

I let it throb, pound—ache,
sulking within the cradle of spine,
rocking joints to solemn sleep…

and how easily resignation
was acquired,
for they were weary,
used to hunching to sorrows
resolute

and chronic.

firm gripYour fingers strum
the chords of my brain
a hand cupped chin
to raise me from beneath

I’d know this insulation anywhere
it feels like putting on a comfortable shirt
arms fill the sleeves
as fabric moves over skin exquisitely
for the perfect fit

I lie every time I nod my head in silence

It was anchors I needed
and fish hooks
I know the art of drowning
suspension and bleeding

The captain goes down with his ship,
but not before he sails

Now is not the time
for bravery and fear
we passed those
craggy rocks
years ago

Twisting in my skin,
pulling tight on the ropes

Head strong
into the squall
moves through and between
wriggling fingers

A World of WordsThis written word strung together,
Played off in a cacophony of beauty,
Dancing around in a field of verses.
Visible to all with eyes in their heads,
Or ears sensitive and perked,
But only known to those who watch.
Those chosen few who sit in silence,
Listening to a mute orchestra,
Or watching an invisible ballet.
The truth behind what is visible,
Is seen and created by their worn minds,
Lips upturned with furrowed brows.
Broken hands feeling no pain when creating,
Their minds, hearts and souls filling the page,
In a cacophony of beauty, spilling across the world.

Night Time HungerThe creature of the darkness
Leads an endless life of despair.
The horrors of an eternity
Captured in that haunted stare.

Only on All Hallow's Eve
May he venture undetected.
His luminous skin and unusual ways
Pass by us unsuspected.

He wishes to befriend you.
He will charm you with his grace.
He'll marvel at the glorious beauty
Of your mortal face.

Alas, this friendship cannot last.
His control cannot endure.
You accept your death with open arms,
Entranced by his allure.

That dreadful night time hunger.
That wretched, lustful thirst.
The insatiable desires
Of the one forever cursed.

Ashamed of his regrettable acts,
Brus

Lost LoverI woke up to a world entangled in white,
where the black trees coexisted with light.
And the ice fell swiftly upon my pale skin,
waking me and making me feel alive again.

Enchanting it was, but it left me so cold,
as I was yearning to find my lover to hold.
Somewhere deep in the darkness of dusk,
I had lost him to the wintry must.

So I searched for him again and again,
shouting his name in the depths of the wind.
But no matter how hard I tried to speak,
I could feel the ice sealing my lips so weak.

Then in the distance I could hear a sound
that said, "Darling, won't you come around?"
It shook me and made me feel empty ins

Min(d/e)Obsess

over sacred
words and symbols,
Perhaps discover a sign.

Help me escape from this hollow.
These thoughts and feelings aren't mine.

Manufactured

Injected

Planted

Into the space of my head.

Hidden in salt water droplets,
The words that may never be said.

Give me skin unpicked
And teeth that do not grind.
Grant me passage to elude torment

- The prison I've made of my mind.

What is mind?
What is mind?
What is brain?
What is brain?

Mutter psychologists
And the insane.

I can't decide.
There's nowhere to hide
Amongst the faceless drones.

Someti

A Bumblebee Among The PoemsA pale hand's reach
for long forgotten poets
unearths
dust soaked wings
sewn
on a stripped jacket.

Snown by ashen rays,
they soar towards
their birthplace.

Even my lantern
does not uncloud
the ash they long for.

They are looking
for their flower.
Not the sun.

Dying to be BeautifulDying to be beautiful
How far does it go
How deep can it get
How dark can it pull

When nothing holds you together
But layers of makeup on sunken cheeks
And your bones so frail they
Shatter from sobbing
Your heart so weak
You cannot risk loving

Your world so painful,
Through gray misty eyes
From the outline of ribs
To the protruding bone spines
I clearly see, you’re dying
Yes, dying to be beautiful

I wish somebody would tell you
The secret of beauty
It comes from the heart
The inside out
Not the outside in

But still how far will you go
How deep will you get
How dark will you go
Until you realize
You’re dying
Just to be

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Silkworm

by *Dualitie, Oct 30, 2012, 11:57:43 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

A slave, a product, bred
only to produce
My metamorphosis is
egg, larvae, pupa, dead

No wings, no skin to ever shed
I am incomplete
Day and night
I keep spinning my thread

In my dreams, my wings are spread
I rest peacefully
on a flower bed
And behind me is a cocoon shread

Silkwormby *Dualitie

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Silk production is awful, but so are the lives of many people around the world. In some countries, life expectancy is lower than 30 years, and child labour cause many children to loose their precious childhood. They can only dream of what we have - the opportunity to complete the metamorphosis and have a life consisting of childhood, teenage years, adulthood and eventually the last phase of grandma/grandpahood.

~PrincessoftheINSANE Feb 15, 2013 Student Artist

When I learned how silk was produced, I was horrified.

*Dualitie Feb 15, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Me too, it's just too cruel...

`dreamsinstatic Nov 2, 2012 Professional Writer

Your fantastic work has been featured in Friday Night Features.

*Dualitie Nov 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Yay, thank you!!

`dreamsinstatic Nov 10, 2012 Professional Writer

You're welcome.

~SofusGirl Oct 30, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

And now I feel bad for larvae...
Great poem

*Dualitie Oct 31, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Hahah, thank you

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