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Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

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Scavengers - Chapter Fourteen: Sam"This is my … lab as they called it. But it's more of a cell.", he began to explain, while he moved the camera left or right a bit depending on what he was talking about. "Over here is the door that leads to my room. There's not much in there, just a two story bed – which makes no sense – and a mirror. What do I need a mirror for in there? I won't shave and I don't care about my hair anyway."
At this he ruffled his short hair.
"Anyway, I should probably start at the beginning, since this might be the diary that changes the world after I die I should explain everything. Right? Right. Of course, I'm always right, that's why I'm here!... I'l

SpriteBetween eternal forces we remain tossed
Unseen, as monsters of the fiery night
A crimson breath, inevitable upon us as frost
We are but messengers, of those in sight
We fall apart, like perfect fragile dreams,
In sunlight, as it falls, as it burns our skin.
We are locked, still none hear our screams
Yet we mean no harm, believe my kin
We hide, as locks and keys of nightmares
Emptied streets we roam, in search of trust
To darker things, unspeakable, we are heirs
But we have forgotten them in black dust
Why will no one listen to our voice?
Then we shall haunt you; 'tis was your choice!

Scavengers - Chapter Thirteen: Searching"Oh, just you wait!", Hughes laughed as he chased after Jynk. "I'll catch you, just you wait!"
"I thought we were here to work… Hey, cut it out, we need to get this done!", Samson called.
Hughes had just caught Jynk and was now throwing her up and then catching her again. Her giggles made him laugh. But at Samsons voice he turned around and made a disappointed face. Jynk saw this and copied him.
Samson was sitting in his chair, bent over an array of problems. He was massaging his temple when the two turned to him. "…Don't give me that look.", he tried to sound serious.
Jynk pushed out her lower lip and dropped her gaze.
Hughes held h

Scavengers - Chapter Twelve: GoodbyeSam pushed her aside violently and scrambled to his staff. Just in time, before the Signal screeched and roared and slashed his blades at them. The echoing clash of the weapons hurt in Jynks ears as she followed Sams lead and ran to take up the nearest weapon.
The Signal pushed itself inside, slashed at Sam who lay on the ground, unable to get to his feet.
Jynk closed the distance between herself and their attacker, taking hold of an old sword. She rammed it into the Signals side, making cry out.
It turned to Jynk with fury in its eyes. No second later had it taken hold of the sword. Jynk quickly let go and stumbled back, reaching for s

Scavengers- Chapter Eleven: QuestionsSam looked about him. There was nothing interesting for him to do, except maybe clean some more or take up on one of Jynks projects. Quickly he banned the thought. He had sworn never to build or repair anything in his life after—…well after The Day.
With a grunt he reached for the sharpener. He had, in the early morning, gotten all the things he needed and placed them around him, so that he wouldn't have to get up. Now it came in handy, and made everything easier – Sam wasn't sure if that didn't also make it boring.
He shrugged and started sharpening whatever he found and thought would do good sharpened. By the end of the session he had s

Scavengers- Chapter Ten: NestMassaging her neck while walking she looked around. It was a bit disappointing, that she had to admit. After all, what had she expected? A whole new world full of majestic devices and vehicles and friendly little humans that spread peace and joy?
Jynk sat down on an old tire with a deep sigh. This wasn't half as much fun as she had imagined it to be. She scratched her head, loosening her hair by accident, and stared at her feet.
The headache was still there and there was a throbbing in her body that she wished would stop. While she sat there she started to draw pictures into the loose earth with her foot. She drew the two men she had dream

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The Monkey In Me

by *AkashasDreamworld, Oct 18, 2012, 5:29:32 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Deep inside the cracks of my mind lives a monkey.
He has a maraca he likes to shake
And a blanket made of dust.

On bright days I wonder what he does there,
I even consider asking him;
His answer is but a monkeyish laugh

He shakes his maraca at me, mocking my thoughts,
Grins at me, with a smile that misses five teeth.
Then he jumps in joy, cries out, leaps away

He climbs my logic and chips a few pieces
And with them he decorates his house
which he built in my inspiration.

When night falls he tends to rummage
Through the drawers of my mind,
Poking this and poking that.

He never sits still, always playing his game.
Sometimes though he disappears
Into darker corners unheard of.

But upon his return he has found
So much and all of it he will, undoubtedly,
Fill up the shelves of his house with.

When did he come to be, I wonder.
What is he doing in my mind, pray tell!
For how much longer will this baboon taunt me?

I have a monkey inside me you see,
Maybe he's the reason I never sit still,
The reason I grin my wild grin!

Whoever he is he will stay, I'm sure.
If I would ask him to leave he'd laugh
and with a crayon he found would write:

Nevermore!

The Monkey In Meby *AkashasDreamworld

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

This actually started out as a short 4 stanza joke for my brother who always said: "You know sis... I have a monkey in my head."

But when I started writing I couldn't stop.
Now, I'm actually quite satisfied with this (:

I hope you enjoy!!
Comments and Critique to my whimsical doodle are very appreciated!

-Avy

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*BloodyMess-VaoT Nov 1, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

For me that's a very cute and refreshing way to describe insanity and a welcoming deversion to what I usually read and write.

*AkashasDreamworld Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oh and thank you so much for the fave!!!

*BloodyMess-VaoT Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome!

*AkashasDreamworld Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

*BloodyMess-VaoT Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

*AkashasDreamworld Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

xD You're funny.

*BloodyMess-VaoT Nov 3, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You too!

*AkashasDreamworld Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Haha, thank you so much

I'm glad you liked it!

=LukeFielding Oct 22, 2012 Professional Traditional Artist

Wow i like this one! Personifying your conscience and playful nature in a form of a monkey is brilliant!

*AkashasDreamworld Oct 22, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much! Though it stared out as my brothers conscience I think mine bears a monkey as well, haha x)

Oh and thank you so much for the fave!!!

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The Monkey In Meby *AkashasDreamworld

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