The harpie crows
As I settle my toes
'Neath the bleeding suicide tree

I look left and right
As packs of dogs race by
The harpie begins tearing leaves

I wait for the tears to stop
I wait for the blood to clot
All this coming from the suicide tree

Loneliness and fear
This is what brought me here
Slumped beneath the suicide tree

Again I search
For the sign of a first
Light, here in this life's debris

Blinded like I,
A man puts his hand in mine
And leads me away from the suicide tree

Unexpected as ever
I'm light as a feather
As he leads me away from the loss of me

Still I can't help but guess
That this isn't the best
And on weeps the suicide tree

Static whimpered then, now
was a moment, is and will be.

But in my deeper blue, waits a
Sapphire cesspool; waste and ivory
the Isle of Man, wades and drowns
silk swollen in the silence of still water,
through Hesperian greed and the tide
of golden apples.

In wandering, the cicada and cypress
grew in a moment's swan song,
Paradise was a pyre, and it was Winter
and the modern world.

And in what days of one day
would the enchantment bring-- of
the red faces and quivering tongues?

And what would the harpie bring--
icy tendrils of Spring to cool the flame?  
A wretched smile, of the witness
blackened, knelt cradling his
head in his hands.

and in that moment, I was a lost man,
a lost man,
And then the happiest on the face of the Earth:


Now, the night is shallow.
****** is a breath, Eros is breathing, I am still.

Still

caught in the net of waking dreams,
when a binary sunset births the piercing tone,
of frequency high and ears hollow:
I was on my back, floating
and Death stood waiting
at the end.

Chariot yoked, pinion on pinion,
I gritted my teeth, unfurled my wings
and wept-- the mind is vengeance
As cruelty is the Mother of love.

and Now
stands waiting,
in the memory of himself.
A war is waged each moment,
with the echo of forever:

soul for soul,
talon for talon.

The Colors of Love are a Rainbow
A short story of life
By
Jude Kyrie

How can anyone be so stunningly beautiful and yet be a total ***** he thought.
He had fallen in love with Meg for all the wrong reasons.
She nearly wore the bed out in his small apartment he thought his spaceship  had crash landed on planet **** for the six months he dated her.
Then he married her
That's when it changed.
Yes for sure it was then.

He should write a book
Just two word long
a sure fire ******* best seller.

How to cure a Nymphomaniac
By Harry Proctor
Marry Them
The End

She was bossy and mean
Do this do that
Are you never getting up the garden's overgrown you idle *****.
**** the garden i said under my breath.
Get in here for some more nookie.

I think it was after a year I hated her guts.
Get over here and fix the TV  remote you useless ****.
GGGGRRRRR
I mouthed ***** and she heard me whisper ******* Harpie.
She went quiet I thought maybe
I just need to get a pair and stand up to her.
She reached me in the kitchen and delivered
a three-pointer right in my goolies.
*** ***
I thought I was going to have three Adam's apples.

She took me to bed later
When all was functioning again
She was ******* incredible
she could do things the girls did
in the naughty, man magazines I kept hidden.
I met Annette and her husband at a street party.
It must be thirty years ago now.
God, I never believed in love at first sight but she got me.
Soft spoken blue eyed ***** *** I wanted her.
It was mutual.
but we didn't take it to its conclusion she was married to Bill
And I had Meg my ******* nightmare harpie.
She noticed me ogling Annette and cut my *** off for six weeks.
I laughed at her make it a ******* year I don't care.
After three months
she took me back to her bed
my tongue hanging out to my toes
the dog was starting to look good.
And ****** the rest of my brains out on the bed.
God to her  that sack was like a pool table to a hustler.

She said don't you even think of trying to get a divorce
she was slicing a big tomato with Henkel carver extra slow so ******* malevolent.
Imagine your useless **** on here she smiled menacingly
as a thin skinny slice of tomato fell on the cutting board.
You belong to me Harry
Don't you ever forget it,
She scared the bejabbers out of me .

I tried to relive all my sins
but I can't think of one bad enough to deserve this
….I almost used the C word--
it was on the tip of my tongue
but my aversion therapy flooded in.

I had used it as a boy on my buddy
when he missed a penalty in the school playoffs
my mom had heard.
And even now whenever I try to use it I can taste lye soap.

So I changed it to the B word.

After thirty-five years she was hit by a truck and was killed instantly.
All I could think was
I hope the poor truck driver is alright.
And then dancing around the living room.
IM FREE __IM FREE----  IM FREE
YEAHHHHHH!!!


I decided to go to church again
He had finally answered one of my ******* prayers.
I found God at the age of  Fifty- eight.

I saw Annette in the church
she was older but still filled a great bra.
She said harry sorry for your loss
I looked sad and down at the floor
put my poor ******* Harry face on.
And thought
Don't make me laugh Annette
I got chapped lips.

She came over a week later.
She was in my bed ready for a Harry Special.
I had waited thirty ******* years for this.
Get ready girl Dr. Loves just a moment away.

Then on the dresser in front of me.
Was a picture of our wedding day
She was beautiful just like I remembered.
God I couldn't wait to get her out of that ******* dress.
I think I had an ******* for the whole service.
I could hardly remember the words.
Do you take this woman-----a mile away
You're **** tooting
I'll take this woman
Wait while I get her in that hotel.
And give her America's favorite breakfast
A roll in bed with honey.

Then it hit me like a ******* black shadow
I sat on the edge of the bed.
The long lusted Annette ready to trot.
But I was
Weeping like a child
with my head in my hands.
I said to Annette.
I am sorry honey.
I just can't do it
I just didn't realize
how much I loved my wife.

Two paths diverged,
and I, wood in hand
made it my own
with tended shrubs,
arranged pebbles,
and wild pelt
for game.

Twas a good road
until a harpie
came to roost.

"Such a beautiful Way--
let's woo and trick  
more trekking feet
to feed our hungry
family" she says.

Now there's a Free way
turning my Ki, driving
me solo somewhere
with no family, friends
or even a fornicating Fable.

I shall hold you close as you take your last breath.
Stroking your hair as you slip away.
As a last request.
I will kiss you.
As I know you're leaving.
With my tears.
I shan't wake you.
I will whisper goodbye.
As you slip into the land of eternal night.
But I won't sing to you...
My voice is that of harpie.
You deserve sweet tenderness.
The best that I could give!
(C) Livvi Kent 16/10/2013

It was the night of the thundersnow,
Meteorological harpie normally reserved for our northern brethren.
She stood grimly at the window,
In wait for a dawn which would not come
Save for the odd light, the incongruous rumbling,
Mock forbearer of those easy languid evenings of August.
She'd made some noise approximating a sigh,
Then returned to undress,
I hurriedly unlacing my boots, removing my pants,
(My feigned nonchalance a foolish, pitiable thing)
And I remember her ******* as  oddly demure,
Her ******* bewitching gumdrops,
The triangle below her waist downy, almost kittenish.
I'd broken her maiden clumsily, eagerly, all unheeding haste.
We'd lain next to each other for a short while afterwards
(The schools already closed for the next day,
Her father recently gone to the boneyard on Ludlow Hill,
She soon to be shuttled off to some spinster aunt in Dillsboro.)
I'd nattered on about summer vacations and thens and laters;
She'd said little, simply studying me with the bemused half-smile
One saves for sad dreamers not intimate with the knowledge
That notions of tomorrow and forever are strictly for suckers,
And as I strolled home come mid-morning,
The sun implacably straddled the sky,
Leaving the sidewalks and shoulders of the road
Completely dry, as if the night before had been a thing
Of perhaps-only, of dreams and tales for a later time.

A harpie you may
have been...
Yet, delicate as lace
your fingers spin around
the spinning wheel.

To sit and watch you weave
is life's delight.
This keeps you near and in my sight
when eyes grow dim.

You weave a tapestry of our
love filled past.
Your wifely smiles are
just for him.

I feast my eyes
upon  you in delight.
You may be his
but not this night...

Our love is such
refined.
The fates we tempt
yet, endure sublime.

Our souls as one
till dust in time...
I can wait and watch
till he is done.

Woman, thy nastiness to me
Is like old Nikes on the floor
Where sweat and mildew disagree
And force me to the nearest door
A stench I can't ignore.

Your heart weighs less than styrofoam,
Thy stinking feet, thy scowling face,
Belong in some state nursing home . . .
Free me up some breathing space,
You mean-hair clipped-face gnome.

Lo, in yon dark recliner-chair
How meatloaf-like I see thee slump,
Upon your wide immobile ****,
Ah! Harpie of the greasy hair
Unholy Frump!

Elle passa, je crois qu'elle m'avait souri.
C'était une grisette ou bien une houri.
Je ne sais si l'effet fut moral ou physique,
Mais son pas en marchant faisait une musique.
Quoi ! Ton pavé bruyant et fangeux, ô Paris,
A de ces visions ineffables ! Je pris
Ses yeux fixés sur moi pour deux étoiles bleues.
Fraîche et joyeuse enfant ! Moineaux et hochequeues
Ont moins de gaîté folle et de vivacité.
Elle avait une robe en taffetas d'été,
De petits brodequins couleur de scarabée,
L'air d'une ombre qui passe avant la nuit tombée,
Je ne sais quoi de fier qui permettait l'espoir.

Pendant que je songeais, croyant encor la voir
Même après qu'elle était enfuie et disparue,
Et que debout, pensif au milieu de la rue,
Contemplant, ébloui, cet être gracieux,
J'avais l'œil dans l'espace et l'âme dans les cieux,
Une vieille, moitié chatte et moitié harpie,
Au menton hérissé d'une barbe en charpie,
Vêtue affreusement d'un sinistre haillon,
Effroyable, et parlant comme avec un bâillon,
Me dit tout bas : - Monsieur veut-il de cette fille ?

Ô pauvre colibri que vend une chenille !

I am a whisper that relays on twine,
a promise
cackling in a stream of gossip

I am your worst dream a harpie,
a reverie that has long played
in some forgotten bordello labelled shame?

I am a suggestion about to be sang,
a harpie awaiting the midnight.
I was an allurement  before your birth,
a whisper stored hellwards.
noting your worth.

Devi discordia the Flying Spaghetti Monstress
Siren of the Sea be the Harpie in Dis Guise
Lies of Low Key, yeah, shua, whatever.
Seer into the volva and wonder why ***** was weak
maybe more the ears of korn not able to ban-she's shriek

One evening when the lights were still
bright  and shiney bawballs that dangled
and  had once clung on for dear life,
now started to fall .
one by one  .
then the elphs and the nymphs  !   ,
one and all .
they knew the end had begun. .
The pixies fled to the four corners of the wood  ,
along with the fairys who were upto no good !
For even the angel who sat on the tree
saw from far away what was to be ,
the creeping darkness on this twelth night opened its mouth to swollow
them whole !

so The Angel spread her wings of light
and devised a plan for only one could
be queen of this land .


And so the night put up a fight
as the harpie stole souls that were
not hers by right ,

before she was vanquest by  her hand
and sent back to never never land
and when the centaur and spinx
had fled the kind angel said
whos next ?
And so the clown that slumped against a tree just laughted and laughed,
then when his head fell off
he laughted even more ,
even though his head was on the floor .
Then when his arms fell off he laughted some more .
Untill his insides split and everything ended
up on the floor .,
and so he laughted some more .
So mother said put your toys away that tree has to come down today .