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Her Eyes Have ItHer Eyes Have It
Looking on her face
Drawn by her soft eyes
I willingly believe that she came
From a mysterious remote place
Somewhere in the sky
Seeking, searching for the man
Whose heart holds the love she desires
And her eyes speak for her heart
I am that one
Her eyes have magnetic power
Only LoveOnly Love
My food strengthens me but one moment
Water only makes me cool
Rest comes only after many hours
Solitude gives peace till I go forth
Only love can refresh me
Its joy is a lasting feel
My ObsessionMy Obsession
They came and warned me
They worried about their charge
Her face wore a look of longing
I never forgot
But despite that I have taken care
Her heart remains strong
Like the finest crystal
So we lie together
Whispering words of devotion
Vowing never to part
She is my one obsession
I know that I am hers
If someone gives you crystal, glass
He will warn you to hold it tight
If he gives you a valuable gem
You must guard it every night
And insure that you never break it
So the High Ones trusted me with an invaluable gift
More vital than crystal or jewellery
And they warned me not to break it
It is the heart of my love, Puabi
The ChallengeThe Challenge
The two men met on a field one eve
Some kilometers from the town
The former wore a plain expression
The latter wore a frown
The former asked the latter nonchalantly
What ever could the matter be?
His answer was that he had the gall
To court a lady soon to be wedded
It was an insult to him, the latter explained
And he scarcely would forget it
So they stood back to back
Holding a saber on one hand
The challenge for a lady's love
Soon became the news throughout the land
Make HistoryMake History
It is echoed in the corridors of our time
It is echoed by the voices of every age
Small men read
What great men make
Be a great man
Make something they will read
I stamp my likeness on every page
What I write is only mine
It finds the annals of literary ages
A page of written history
For those to read who want to read
For those who write to follow
As the famous have done before
There are moments when we need only silence
When neither I compose verse nor we listen to music
Anyone lost deep and not caring to be found
Will know the wherefore and the why
His words of devotion are my poetry
Her voice and sighs of delight are my music
That is all we need
We are deep
Lost and happy to be lost
Poetry and music
To each other
Zann Conservatory of MusicZann Conservatory of Music
In the remote stretch of the Swiss Alps, secluded from scrutiny, stands the little known conservatory of music founded in 1889 by Dietrich Zann, nephew of Erich Zann.
Few men have visited or enrolled there. The last to do either was Hubert West, himself an heir and descendant of the infamous re-animator Herbert West. West had fled his homeland following a grossly dangerous failure to reanimate someone but there were no signs of him afterward. Then, as mysteriously as that, Hubert appeared and claimed descendance.
Dietrich Zann had the mindset to configure his forebear's music into more traditional form for broader applications. He believed that the chords could be applied to human psyche in several ways. When Hubert West arrived, they agreed immediately to collaborate in many ventures using this music.
Certainly Hubert spoke of using certain chords on the dead psyche for reanimating. His kin had succeeded in Germany with a variation of Bach's famous Sl
Secret LoveSecret love
For the time declared
That the royal were the Heaven sent
Then no mere mortal could touch
Let alone look upon the face
So the lady served in Ur
Yet every night she lay alone
And dreamed of a secret love
Still many nights passed by
But she could only dream
One eve toward the date of her birth
The lady heard of one man
Bold and proud in his heart
She was certain he could share
She disguised as a common woman then
And rushed to meet him in the grove
They searched for a secret spot
Therein they looked into each other's eyes
And vowed to love until they died
It has been long years
But we remember, she and I
We meet again like before
To resume our tender secret love
How to be Populardon’t talk
go to parties
listen to friends
go with the flow
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
The sound of silenceThe sound of silence,
Is so deafening,
That it makes my ears ring,
With the cacophony of my own insanity.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
DNAyou are content
because every day
you have the opportunity to
hug both sets of your DNA.
however, i am not content.
half of me is missing
and the other half
is hardly ever here.
No Coffee is Sweet Without YouNo Coffee is Sweet Without You
"In the Name of Love"
Hazelnut in my cappuccino
Caramel in mocha too
But I can only think
That if the coffee is sweet
It is because I have you
I have tasted many cups before
Can I say that I enjoyed them all?
I finished each one
Because I felt it was what I should do
But if I said they were sweet
It may be untrue
If my coffee is sweet
It is because I have you
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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