AtticI went through the attic todayjust to see the memories that lie.Inside a box there was nothingbut cobwebs and fickle dust.Yet in a corner of the roomthere is the most beautiful memory,photo albums of loveand presents from trips long ago.I do not have to read the letters of lovefor their words have long since been memorized.A little stuffed lionwon at the circus,shall sit in my lapand remember along with me.Never stitched in love this lion was,but love was what it was meant to feel.So as I sit and look,from albums of old,and presents from trips,and letters of love,and my lion in my lap,I cry happy tearsat the memories that have passed.'Darling, come downstairs!'I can almost hear your voice shout below.'Dear! You are never going to believethe memories that I just unearthed.Let's look together, and relive the oldand maybe then my tears for memories pastcan become tears for something new.'
MistakesIf every mistake I ever madewas a scar on my bodythere would be no pure skin.Every inch would host a jagged linewhere my so called 'selfish pride'managed to get the better of me.Idiot mistakes of my youth,and moronic declarationsof what I thought was insignificant.Mistakes, errors of judgment,a complete lapse in sense,that litter my skin with memories of pain.For a momentI thought I was importantnot someone to be overlooked.My selfish pride betwixt mefor everything was littlecompared to the pride I raised.A fall to Earthwaking on concreteno one besides me.My mistakes are scarslittering my skintainting once pure flesh.Blunders of thoughts,guilt as endless as the sky,never ending weight of it.My mistakes,are meant to be just thatmistakes.Though they haunt my thoughts everydayI can't help but hope that one daythey will be scars instead of thoughtsso everyone else will knowthey thoughts that haunt me everyday.
Wake up loveHush now,I'm sorry the dream must end.It's time to wake upand face the world.Reality is harsh,the people are cold,that's how it isand you must wake up.For you have been asleep long enough.Time to wake love,and be with your peoplethey wait for youand have never given up.You can't let them down.The alarm's going off,and reality is waiting.You are only humanand cannot do muchbut everyone is importantand life is waiting just for you.Can you hear their cries?And the bellows of pain?You can stop thembut only if you wake up.It's time to wake up love,and face the world.They cry for your returnand you can't let them down.
Sunflower KissesSunflower kisses dance across my skinlaying down in a field of wheat in the afternoon.You appear almost out of nowhereand lay down next to me as you were meant to be.The sun hurts my eyes,as I squint at the clouds and try to make shapes.You stare at me and I try to think,yet the more you stare the harder it is to ignore.Do you want the sun?The sun?Ya, the sun.Everyone gives the moon as a gift,but to me, the only thing that can rival your charmis the suns great shine,and even then when you emerge outsidethe suns grows dark and burnt.You never were a poetI couldn't help but laughat how long you probably spentthinking of that one line.I like the sun.Then I'll wrangle the sun,all for you. We laid in the suns warmthof sunflower kissesand the tickles of wheat instead of grassand nothing else mattered in the world.I love you.I love you too.
God called in sick todayGod called in sick today,and the sky is dancing.People walked hand in handsinging in tune with the damned.Running without stories‘this is what tragedy feels like’dead is the new alivebut misery loves company.Racing with the devilone doesn't dare stop againstthe lord of the damnedhe laughs against the concrete.Can one play with madnessas they dance on clouds of mind?Heavens a lie when butterflies are flying in hurricanesAnd God takes a day off.Wasted time throwing rocks at starssouls refuse their eternal restthey drink a cup of galaxy for breakfasthymn of the shameless.Obsession is an ugly word.When dead becomes the new alivethe devil walks the earthand God takes a day off work.
Happy HolidaysIlluminationred and green dancing figuresbright lights shimmer proudCarol singing startsjoyful notes piercing the skyhappy faces showSnow is falling downwhite flakes floating alonglanding softly downChristmas Eveningchildren are sleeping soundlymorning approachingHolidays arrivethe air is cold and livelymorning joy is here
MakeupThe sinks water dribbles outand forms a pool where the drain cloggedbubbles spill over the edge soaking the counter.Scrubbing away the dirt of the daytrying to wipe away the memories of pastyet the makeup won’t come off the skin.Black rivets dripping down in streamsmascara and eyeliner blurring dark circlesmaking raccoon circles around the eyes.Rubbing into skin until vision blursthe mirror reflects what is to be seena lonely girl with makeup that won’t come off.Red lipstick is smeared on chinand harsh soap turned pink and greythe skin is gone turned brittle and dry.Water balls and doesn’t formnothing making a dent in the colorsof one decorated face.Because the tears won’t fallwhere they do not belong anywayand the painted face is too covered to see.The makeup can’t leave its homethe faded colors leaving stainswhile the towel wipes the water away.And when all is said and donethe makeup remainsand a painted face is just a remnant.
A Carnival DelightTwo people, sewn togethermore stitches bringing them togetherthan they ever were of conjoined twins.A scream of horror elicited,brought by the 'person' before her.A thump sounded as she fainted.Next on stage,blood red eyes and pale skinpeople cowered and hidshielding away from his 'devils syndrome'.Just when the audienceseemed it couldn't take anymore,more acts joined the other on stage.A man so smallhe should have been a boyand without a matchlit a fire like a dragon.A girl in a cagewith eyes of panic,contorted her body,popping limbs and snapping bonesno one saw the tears of pain.A man who more snake than human,a mans torso there but a snake tail.He watched with unmoving eyesfor where should have been life and lovethere was just emptiness inside.The Ringmaster singsto the rhythm of the peoplecheers and smiles of city and town.A tip of the hat,smiles of the crowd.There's nothing morethan the scent of popcornand the laughter of children.All too soon th
NymphTranslucent asa dragonfly wing—her hair fansin the water, andthe sun bleeds.
May you rest in peaceYou're gone now and away,sleeping silently somewhere elsenever speaking and always silent.If we had talked more,would you still be herelying next to me in bed?To bring you back,I would walk five thousand milesjust like in that song that you love.But you'll never hear music againand we'll all be here stilljust moving here through life.And no one gets to see your smilewhile your families mourns their lossand all we have are memories.To bring you backI would happily take your placein the land of the never living.Because you're being missed,and no one knows,what they're going to do without you.Sleeping silent mourningthe sun never seen againresting eternally.
Ice Cold LipsHer cold lipspink in naturebut cold underneath.There's no lifein those two strips of flesh.The rest of her is hot,but her lips are always ice.Delilah, do you love me?Of course I do.Her eyes are just as coldas her cold dead lips.Delilah, do you love me?...yes, I doHer hands leave hot trails down my backbut her lips leave frost on my skin.Delilah, do you love me?...no....and her cold dead lipstouched my own.
Old MenHe watched the old men gather in the yards,reflecting on their misbegotten youthas they hunched over checkers and their cards;and pondered how aesthetics and the truthwere once pursuits left only to the godsturned out for trade and trickery in sooth.That knowledge culled and ransomed in their primewould only serve their memories with time.
The Doctor"Doctor?" I questioned uneasily. The figures and faces around me nodded, shifting around unsettlingly as if staying still was too much work for them"I don't need a Doctor, I'm fine." I had no desire to see the Doctor. Even the title sent shivers down my spine."We know dear, but we were thinking that some people mature faster than others, and that maybe you should see the Doctor earlier," one of the figures said. I couldn't even see them, for I was seated in a hard chair that dug into my back while everyone else was crowed around me. Their like faces and similar statures all began to blur into one solid black surrounding of grey and more grey. Even their voices were beginning to blend together."I don't want to see the Doctor though."And I truly didn't. There were so many rumors about that place, the place called the hospital. I heard that when people entered they didn't come back the same again, that they Doctor messed with their minds and changed them into unfeeling robots for the
Thaw me Before I BurnShe lay still, enclosed by a quilt of ice,and there she softly sang a sweet surmise,by this she dreamed the false truths should suffice-with snow monsters at her decieving side.He is the sun streaked sky and sun stained love,The warmth of molten gold and honest light,his face turned at the blazing skies above-with truth to warm frigid souls of mankind.Held by the coldest hearts and colder eyes,with companions carved out of artic snow,Ice creatures sparkling as the frozen sea-yet despite their chill she still loves them so.His blazes burn hot and punish the touch,for sometimes honesty does not trump lies,when heated honor cools to blunt remarks-his love can even decieve truthful eyes.She reigns an ice army, fragile and stiff,shaped with her hands and solid patience,and yet she does not feel their frosted bite-when they turn and expose her to the wind.He is the king atop a flaming throne,shaped up by his own blistered fingertips,and yet directness cuts him like a kn
thenIt came like a slow glass hurricaneBroke on usShattering everything
Who Am I?Who Am I?My feelings are restrained as well as WildMy ideas are unique as well as commonMy beliefs are strong as well as fragileMy struggles are difficult as well as trivialMy life is insignificant as well as SpecialWho am I?I view things from my perspectiveI believe that my ideals are bestI ask questions about my surroundingsI worry about the world, my neighbor as well as myselfI dread over the past decisions in my life.Who am I?I'm a being who resides in SolI'm one of seven billionI'm as common and as rare as can beI'm a person with unquestionable beliefs which at any time could falterI'm liable to believe i'm always right when i could always be wrongWho am I?I am meWho are you?
in Asphodelwe met under the stairs,under the stars made of bone.you brought a book, there wascoffee in my hair, we shareda drink. there were children who rantogether in a blur. the moonwas a face i had seenbefore.
landscape paintinglandscape painting-----------------------In the near distance roadside Atlases ecologically responsible holding the world together by leaning heavily on their shovels and lifting their spirits to a bluer sky than might have been without their help The road seems frozen in the past never reaching the distant hills
a waya way-------I no longer believe in romance.I have lived to Ancient Age, sometimes with and mostly without.I have lived to drink Ancient Age in liquid but not in spirit.And I have replaced romance with other, more satisfying,things.If there are adventures I cannot do,then I imagine.If there are things that I can buy,I do.If not, then I imagine,without them.I assemble a lifefrom real and imaginary things and I am satisfied.Never give up while you can think undisturbed.Lancelot Price 2013 June 28
I Hate FacebookAnd to be quite frank, you make me sick. And I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore.Sit and sift through their lives.Preening and polished.And I think I hate them.Or maybe it’s myself I hate.The lack of supposed importance.The lack of substantial proof. I was there, I was happy.And sometimes we are alive even when we are dead.Tidbits of time caught on film.Faces trapped in photographs. Something. I was someone.
Haiku Ithe birdsong filled herempty shell with a blissfulverse of harmony.---one purple flowerswallowed by the azure sea,now forever alone.---the moon ate the stars,and carried them far away,darkening the sky.---
Paris cafeParis café----------I was sitting at a table in a Paris café in a place I've never been A city I've never been to Out on the street at a corner looking at all the people walking by There was something...something not quite right not right with every one of them Some spark not there or maybe just the wrong kind of light something not quite right I sat there for hours many hours until the sunset and never saw a single one who connected until.. No, it was too late The night began The lights came onParis was Paris I was alone
la musica dulceheartbeats are psycho--somatic, dear;the ocean has swallowedme whole.hay una guitarra bajomi almohada, ysueño de música cuandoestoy solo.you came here withcity smoke in your lungs,and iforgot to breathe.
Bound and ReadyBound and tight, sittingin a game of whips and chainsecstasy on hand.