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 Mar 2013 Sarah Villaluz
CEM
Lightning split the night in two
and thunder through the headphones.
Rain hit skin           sparks.
Sharp as pins   intoxicating tingles.
Muddy toes on naked cement
and ringing ears     silent oblivion.
At the edge of heaven angels peer
Jealous wantons
          To slip for a moment
into bare humanity.          Drunk
on life’s electric chair.
The legitimacy in doing something
                  wrong.
Taking the step    into the sun.
You can’t find apples in heaven.
Wine, spinning, we dine,
Candles and moon making love,
.  .  .  Sparkle in her eyes.
You know the tale about young Romeo
His story of love, torment and sorrow.
For what lay before him was crystal clear,
The love he held for his Juliet so dear.
The journey took passed his father and mother
The violent death his cousin would sadly suffer.
Slain revenge upon Tibult, did he doth do,
And expulsion from Verona; where he did brew
Returns to his belovéd with help from above,
A planned sneak back to his one true love.
With joyous swift pace flew to his lady fair,
A song from his soul he let off in prayer,
Laying tearful eyes on Juliet with one last kiss,
Dying for his dove in woe of loves dark abyss.
You weave a web of pure emotion around my heart,
When I am holding you, I swear I'm bathing in silk.
I eternally thank whoever crossed our paths,
For I am undeniably joyous that I found you, my dove.

Am I permitted to lament my questions?
Allowed am I, to worry over mundane thoughts?
‘Tis a possessed yearning, a heart that would die
For the battle; offer my throat, and plunge
Me to darkness! Who would seek perfection
Once your gaze is met? All that nature yields,
Or art could add, dims my eyes with tears,
Loving madly your soul and body.
‘Tis a natural paradise, within all my pleasure lies;
You are the envy of all women,
An amazing beauty, amorously thanking myself
For ever meeting my eyes light.
I sacrifice to the gods, make this hour fly swift;
So once more, my love, I may grasp within my arms!
So once more he appears before my eyes,
And I am well aware he is no friend
Of mine, but a companion that I do not wish
To view; a companion that hovers around
In a reluctant mist; although never fails
To reveal his foul breath, his harsh whispers,
Together with his depressing stench of odour.
For I did not summon his deeds;
Never sought his favour; nor offered prayers
Nor burnt incense; nor gave from out
My own batch, the warm gift
Of wine to his altar; never in song
Have I praised his pale face,
His rotten black teeth; never bathed
My bare ankles, nor quenched my thirst,
In his poisoned waters. Yet he found weakness
Within a humble heart, an equally willing mind;
For he latched upon my soul, bearing
Fierce claws; and now, with his stealth clasp,
Arm in arm refuses to grant me space;
Feverously denies release.

Oh! How I do pray I could banish him
From my daily thoughts, my woeful strife;
For he seems present more recently
Than ever I can recall from drifting memory.
Be sure, he does not reside
On one of heavens branches; he would,
With all his deceit, be not allowed
To even graft upon the blissful airs
Most lowly of roots. His dulled stare,
Adamantly pierces through any desire
I have for the light ahead. A grey
Dusty cloak, that he wears draped
From his shoulders, like bitter winters
Shortened sun which shrouds the heavy leaded clouds,
And plunges the sky into deep sodden colour;
Saps any inspiration, which my dreams,
With kindness, revamp anew in sweet slumber.

My mission I do know sincerely, to be
Holy honest, is not entirely a struggle;
And shown before my sight appears
Respectively clear, is however, weighed
Toward the earth with added pressure
By his ****** presence alone. A strategy formation,
Delved from battlefields past, is a want
That seems out my grasp. Shall I
Soothe him with tender lyre strokes,
And with kind words may he leave my side
Willingly, at his own leisurely pace,
In unhurt peace? Why does he have such
Effect on me? How do I relinquish
Him from my sight? Shall I guide him
With me to fresh slopes of pastures green,
Showing his cruel appetite, the beauteous feast
Which bountiful Nature banquets? Do I
Attack him with all force at my disposal?
Unsheathe the sword? Balm protection
Around my clench fists? Do I ignore
His embrace which rivals a death-grip
Engineered from a lioness’ jaw, breathing
Smoke from her nostrils, clasping down
On her prey- unyielding, prey essential
To subdue pains that torment her hungry cubs?
Shall I believe him foe? How do I proceed?

I do realise with no barren shadow,
That he must be nursed into a corner,
Trapped, and halted, for if continuation occurs;
I fear Happiness, a fleeting sense,
Will never approach with ease, nor greet me
With a wave of her snowy hand, nor ever
Blush her lovely pout lips, and settle
Her most welcome custom, within my heart again;
And though my pathway be tedious,
Raised to the brim within a golden goblet
Of questioning; let my last task be this:
With a calm prayer to relight fading embers
From my *****. Kind souls, delicate muses,
Come to me, come to my aid,
Help relieve me of his burden.
Heap upon him glittering song,
Bow his cowardly head further down
From whence it came, and place
The dying mournful strains of the Swan within;
May dark unveil an ebbing stream
Of wondrous hue; let summer sun
Break through thick woods; may no shade
Shield me from intense light; let notes
Resound aloft upon high peaks;
May you pour nectar down my throat,
Place fragrant rich petals from perfumed flowers
On my tender tongue; and therefore,
Knelt before you, sister maids,
With submissive eyes gazing the hallowed ground
Beneath your feet; bathe me in tuneful grace
Once more; assist a humble servant,
Hear one solemn slave voice; for you
Will be praised within my lily-scented verse;
Forever will you be fed on my gentle honey-dew
Measure; if I only be granted solace
Within your flowing spring, deep
Between your sacred gardens fruitful caress.
For long, I've had a pen
And at the beginning of that time:
I used to write fantasy,
With set syllable and rhyme.

I gave it to the public,
And they gave it back to me.
Told me it was bland,
Somehow, I could agree.

And then I changed it to
First person—

Wrote about my troubles
Gave up on punctuation
And that ******* filter.

To write about my fight with needles,
A cyclic session of depression and regression,
Is release.

I am,
the butcher who chopped apart her soul
Drained blood into words.
Ground the bones into a bag and
Fed it to the birds

I won't dwell upon the rhyme scheme
Chime whenever the hell I want.

I hid my words in shadows
Did not care for
The world's gaze

And suddenly I found myself—
Showered with honest praise.
 Feb 2013 Sarah Villaluz
John Abe
Here you see a man and a hand
A reflection of opposing forces
What is and what should never be
An unhealthy, God-awful endorsement

Afflictions corrode from within
Stone-fixed in self preservation
A shattered temple confined
Or anew flower creation

To live, love and be loved
Surrounded by color and contentment
To be lost in the shadows
The wrong side of saturation

Cracked,  battered, distorted and beaten
Shattered a mirror that opened a window
Shaped, fixed, filed and finished
Broken a bond revolved around no

A torn life set in stone
Here lies what are us
A life that should have never been
Metamorphosis of Narcissus.
Inspired by the painting: Metamorphosis of Narcissus, by: Salvador Dali.
So much like a cigarette.
In and out.
Carriage between two lips.
A hand.
Two lips.
A hand.
A sticking smell.
Hanging ashes after
leaving itself behind.
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