Winter Here (day 589)

Winter isn’t cold here
It’s like Sunday in front of the fire
Expensive liquor and
Love floating all around
Sounds breaking apart the mahogany
Dripping down the walls
And lifting up the edges
Of the well polished atmosphere

I’ve given in to the long coats
The ones with fur lining
My grandfather handed down
Brought from old Russia
In solid chests on the backs of horses

I’ve slumbered around with
Expensive cocktails with bow ties
Suspenders and alchemy dripping down the walls
A time of surreal magic
Pushing out between the breasts
Of well dressed ladies

I’ll take two for the road sir
Tuck them under my outstretched coattails
And push them down with essence
Tugging tightly at my cufflinks
Trail of broken hearts and glitter
Follows me out the back door into the evening air

Chocolate (day 588)

Chocolate spills off the edges of her mouth as if caught in the middle of some kind of erotic foreplay, struggling with the sloppy moments of recollections that pass through ones mind when stuck in a flashback.

Kisses blow around here, with their golden moments smothered in little murmurs and subtle tones of that which is familiar, or at least should be to those passionately inclined.

Pinstripes chalk the walls with character, allowing the vertically inclined to search the walls out in a practical dance that leaves them solving world mysteries that have been long forgotten or strewn aside as if left to the unexplainable.

Signatures full of rabbits come to life, animating this dreamspace with cuteness and emotion, my own hairline rolls and stretches in a sick game of character defining backgammon. This leaves me rolling the dice, asking the elders what their secrets are.

Idea. An idea. One idea reverberates off the walls, bending and warping the pinstripes and smudging the chocolate into the back pages of my conscience. I allow it to linger here while I hash out the logistics.

Booking the next plane ticket the action unfolds, the plan begins it’s course and the erotic foreplay dances it’s way into the shower to clean up its rep. It is now that the flashbacks come stronger as the future becomes clearer.

Filled With Sin (day 587)

Pink dress I see you
I hear you loud and proud
I feel the place filling
And I like your devilish grin
Candles fighting proudly
Lights dimming slightly
Heat keeps on rising
Passion builds more passion
I’ve known you here before
I’ve seen you run your way
Now you’re pullin changes and
Now you’re a man with sin
Three piece suit, chained watch and
Fedora cocked as proud
Black and white keeps us shining
Where your smile is yelling proud
I see your tie so clearly
Contrasting with that linen
Working over crowds
Taming ladies with strings and
Hats, hats are everywhere
With golden flickering gems
Loosely hanging evening gowns
So gracefully cut for the evening
It’s New Years after all
It’s the party of the year
Can you hear me shifting easily
Feel me breathe it in
Jaw lines pushing boundaries
Cutting lines through darkness
Sinking the soul in
I’ve crawled around destructive
Tonight I’ve filled up with sin

Bowels (day 547)

Settling into the bloody seat filled with boils and scabs
The leaches all gathered around, squishing about
“Accompany me, my little minions” says the goblin
Leading the insolent forward into the future
Slime lines followed the congregation as they went
Crawling from side to side about the blood
Not a legible word released from their bowels
“And now we shall all jump!”
And then that was the end
Splash

Settling Sun (day 546)

I lifted the covers and stared down below
A dream opened up, clearly it glowed
Gothic topped houses with friendly animals
Hovering around the edges of the kept lawn
A sincerely perfected landscape

Clouds morphing in the winds
In which beautiful animals blossomed
Spread out, before my eyes
As I peered under the covers
Amazed at what I did see

I thought for a while
At the glory that did be
Who brought on the sunshine
Who let in the rain and
Just like that it dawned upon me

I built up a fortress underneath where I sleep
Sentinels awaiting orders and messengers at my call
A kingdom opened up in front as I gazed
Then I smiled to myself as I looked to my left
It was a beautiful maiden, a lover just for me!

Unpacking our picnic amongst the friendly little trees
We sat right down on checkered covered cloth
Wine un-corked, not spilling a drop
Laid back we were in pure summers bliss
As the sun settled down we drifted to sleep

Demons (day 531)

Demons lurching and prowling at the innards tormenting
Disastrous thoughts compelling every movement
Keeping all personal compassion idle by unnecessary woes
Claws tearing away the fine layers of conscience
Robed with a hundred years of torment, tied at the waist

All without a yelp of terror
All in good time of faith does the burden remain
All for the surviving factions of purveyors

I have dreamed of this day
Written down in my books of faith
That record my weakest of thoughts
Together with my wisdom once preached
And demons; I have drawn your soured skin
Your scales with hair
Claws and beaks searching for the deepest dagger
Tentacles, wings, horns, and whipping tales
Growling teeth and pointed ears

Patiently awaiting this demise
There will be no more pain
The sins I demolish with faith
For tomorrow I shall rise
Without the gates of hell beckoning me
And peace will fall
Amongst the villains and saints

1480-1490 – Saint Anthony Tormented by Demons by Martin Schongauer

Blondes and Guns (day 522)

A romantic getaway that lends itself to a high action thriller
One of those old ’70s flicks that fills in with browns
Flowy Farah Fawcett hair that shimmers in the sun
And blows in the wind from the partially opened window

A silence that is foreign amongst the wooden paneling
Floral bedspread with a mysterious darkness coming from the underneath area
The type that really makes you genuinely scared to look under the bed
Duty for only the strong to survive

Waves in the distance, too far to be heard
But glimmering in the distance as the canvas lawn-chairs squeak under the weight
Seagulls busily spread their wings across the horizon
Sunscreen smelling strong around the edges of this cold tasty beer

It’s a romantic scene in our high action thriller
The rare moments the cars are ignored and domination plots are set aside
An obligatory scene but oh so necessary to sway the testosterone
Since blondes and guns make the world go round

Forevermore (day 492)

Diving headlong into the flaming pits of doom
I swear the only way forward is the golden winged Pheonix
Swooping about the tips of the flames
Tempting it with long arching and flapping wings
Marked with scars of many years of torment
Seduction and thievery
Too long has this game been played
I fly at the beast, nothing but air and fire beneath me
Champion I am, depicted in carvings
Sold to history with sculptures the city will never forget
Long steel sword hammered in the hottest flames known to man
Mass only one man alive is strong enough to carry
And that man is I
I the conqueror, I the brave
I the soldier of all mans misery
I the man of 1000 stories
And the same man of 1000 legends to come
For it is I who sails through the air
Hair wrapped in a leather thong
Of the beasts hide I’ve slain before
It is I who tame this Pheonix now as it soars in the air
Wild in panic, scared in the torment
But I, the calm champion enslave this mystery
I call it now my own and it comes at my call
I who have saddled such a wild beast here
I who has captured that which has never been before
It is I who will be a legend, forevermore