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the magician

fools
a willing audience
suspends disbelief
children
beguiled by rope tricks
to poise
on an air of enchantment
despite the voice in their brains
that whispers illusion

the magician
fools them
makes sure to allow
reasoning minds
enough safety rope
not to hang him
heels high
keeps the illusion
real magic's a trick
 
butters said:
the magician

fools
a willing audience
suspends disbelief
children
beguiled by rope tricks
to poise
on an air of enchantment
despite the voice in their brains
that whispers illusion

the magician
fools them
makes sure to allow
reasoning minds
enough safety rope
not to hang him
heels high...
keeps the illusion
real magic's a trick
Click to expand...
...and keeps in harness
the trick

(possible?)
 
twelveoone said:
...and keeps in harness
the trick

(possible?)
Click to expand...

i like how that ties in with the ideas of suspension

and creates the visual of a real magic being bound, restricted, leashed - bounces in my head from pictures of a leash the dog never really needs (all for show) to the leather buckled straps of straight jacket. which, in turn, works superbly with being suspended in an escapology stunt!

'the trick' here comes across as a cute name for something less palatable to the public palate, something infinitely scarier - real magic. :cool:

damn, you did that so fast. yes! thankyou! :rose:
 
butters said:
i like how that ties in with the ideas of suspension

and creates the visual of a real magic being bound, restricted, leashed - bounces in my head from pictures of a leash the dog never really needs (all for show) to the leather buckled straps of straight jacket. which, in turn, works superbly with being suspended in an escapology stunt!

'the trick' here comes across as a cute name for something less palatable to the public palate, something infinitely scarier - real magic. :cool:

damn, you did that so fast. yes! thankyou! :rose:
Click to expand...
I am good at what I do
pls pm Champ
 
Temple of Ass

[sometime ago

There I was
minding my drunken bidness
when I chanced upon a post, at most,
inflammatory madness

or't least an introduction
to some poetic aggrandizement,
but more than all above, a hook
that pulled me from my perch.

Worship, ah worship,
now metaphors run rampant,
to describe the holy ground
where marbled bounty's found

Note to self:
Move cooler before passing out

Quando, I don't know...
it had to be done

we've arsed about so long,
there's still my prayers before bed
so away, away you sundry petitioners
seeking entrance to the consecrated
this ass is mine.
:rolleyes:
[fifteen past inebriated]
 
rocking with mother

head still drunk on sleep's narcotic fix
a broken movie hits his brain in bits
stumble-fingered, words won't seem to fit
nurses thick black coffee, soothing wits

and so he sits and rocks and rocks and rocks
whispers to bleak walls there is a god















*using some images given to me in a perfectly innocent pm; it was the rocking part that twisted me - visions of psycho. sorry H :D *
 
greenmountaineer said:
Good poem. There's the making here of something larger, butters. I hope you'll consider it.
Click to expand...

hiya, gm :) it's a kernel to build on, something i'm bad at getting around to. i'll see what i can do - might be tomorrow or 3 years from now. or i could let others play with it in a mini challenge :cool: *procrastination* :eek:
 
he paints me

blackberry stains on milk-pale skin
bramble scratches and wild hair
blanket and the smell of smoke
cream on my lips
 
Aye, Lassy, thar be treasure in them thar depths.
El dorado hidden in the hills
What a fun little dance, here, trix
Made me think of the pagemaster
Sis boom ba indeed
 
Damn i love that, trix!
Raw, honest, brutal, feeling
All conveyed perfectly.
I wont say it's good, cuz that would be its kiss of death.
But it was to me
 
in her head

fields of violas
human faces turned all to her
speaking a language she feels but cannot hear

and the talking dog
follows her home

flint turned pink
and measurements from space
a man in a mask
breathing through debris
long barrows and cultural shifts
ideas sparkling on ripples, tides

the preparation of bones
the heat of decay
a mind shackled by history
pulled by stars

she turns to reply to the dog
barks her distress
 
monuments aren't built in times of violence
only when the red earth's green again
and young men, women, have no axe to grind
except in peace

labour cheap and plentiful
crops fat and full
tools are picked up once again with purpose
edifices to create
a history to invent

and some wry spark will always mark his presence
a signature through time declares I wos here!
 
butters said:
he paints me

blackberry stains on milk-pale skin
bramble scratches and wild hair
blanket and the smell of smoke
cream on my lips
Click to expand...
..
Open eyes,
dry sleep succumbs slowly like bonded paper
left wicking dew from last nights sweet water
still cool beside the bed

Search hand,
damp nest beside, still warm but vacant,
turn, fill with the scent of magnolia and honey.
The line that reads, I love you, is darker now than the rest
when pulled from the table to read

Smell, coffee in the air, bacon
Hear, song, clatters from the kitchen
Drink, the last of last nights water
Rise, descend toward the closing of a door
See the scattered photographs,
what an eye she has

Collect mug and sandwich
return to bed to snack and nap
and don't forget the picture
of the girl in the straw hat.
 
pres de nous

and hello. smithpeter, did you think happiness would keep me away?
Aye, I've strayed, smoked imaginary cigarettes, bet on tomorrows game,
but it seems I've already won; the fix is in. A man told me today. It's good to have friends with an in.

So what have I been up too? Not much, busy not counting the days, busy beating back the foe, prick with a bfg, something I'll never have, but, I've picked up some toys along the way. I'll fight; show me to the fray.

*Sip* I'm guessing you're tired of listening now, and to be truthful, my imaginations wandering, wine's working it's magic, the dark outside the window presses in; watch me slip away again.
 
Eyes open, long before dawn
awake, with you in my arms
hands searching for a purpose
a voice out of nothing
you're up early
sighs and writhing sheets, squeaks
silence rules once more
day peeks in the window
 
HarryHill said:
Eyes open, long before dawn
awake, with you in my arms
hands searching for a purpose
a voice out of nothing
you're up early
sighs and writhing sheets, squeaks
silence rules once more
day peeks in the window
Click to expand...

on the cusp of dawn
twisted sheets
love
shorn of all ornamentation
stripped back
to arterial flux
electrical sparks
oh, how minds shine
breathe day across the dark-flung, iridescent shawl

and in those moments
when breath, all-held, suspends the very hour
glory in the sun, risen
the golden tones of silence
still ringing in our ears

:heart:
 
sahaj

butters said:
on the cusp of dawn
twisted sheets
love
shorn of all ornamentation
stripped back
to arterial flux
electrical sparks
oh, how minds shine
breathe day across the dark-flung, iridescent shawl

and in those moments
when breath, all-held, suspends the very hour
glory in the sun, risen
the golden tones of silence
still ringing in our ears

:heart:
Click to expand...
..............................................
Then a young heart grows old
scared by a lifetime of passion
yet still beating fierce, steady,
ready to burn again

Ears dim to all but the sound
of aether streaming 'cross a starlit sky

Eyes search the shadow world, time slips
and a prayer is sent to those that listen
for just one more hour to search
those lips, that skin,
the mind behind your eyes
 
HarryHill said:
..............................................
Then a young heart grows old
scared by a lifetime of passion
yet still beating fierce, steady,
ready to burn again

Ears dim to all but the sound
of aether streaming 'cross a starlit sky

Eyes search the shadow world, time slips
and a prayer is sent to those that listen
for just one more hour to search
those lips, that skin,
the mind behind your eyes
Click to expand...

come to me
when cobalt cloth's spread wide
when moon's a pale rind
nibbled neat by quickly mice
slipped swift away to nestle
in russet drifts

come to me
when all that's left
are the rind, the glisten of salt
when every last crumb's been stolen away
and you've a thirst for moonshine

uncork the stone jug
settle it to shoulder, neck, to lips
the salt will pale to sweet
as amber colours us
as rinds reverse to full on cream
as dreams dance on your tongue
i come to you
 
The night lays still just past the window sill
scents of jasmine and peony how they spill
filling my lungs with the breath of you
and from behind I hear

butters said:
come to me
when cobalt cloth's spread wide
when moon's a pale rind
nibbled neat by quickly mice
slipped swift away to nestle
in russet drifts

come to me
when all that's left
are the rind, the glisten of salt
when every last crumb's been stolen away
and you've a thirst for moonshine

uncork the stone jug
settle it to shoulder, neck, to lips
the salt will pale to sweet
as amber colours us
as rinds reverse to full on cream
as dreams dance on your tongue
i come to you
Click to expand...

Oh moon, rise above the earth
light the path to her side
and together ride a steed of dreams
into the velvet sky
'cross star salted night
wild haired, voices jubilant
aye, we'll come for you
on streams of silvered moon's shine
sweet as dairy cream
 
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