After a Lemon Margherita

So what do you think of
my cherry bon bon?
Mr Fantastic, the lucky boy who won,
my style has unparalleled flow,
so you don’t have to go running to
Another ho.
Watch me grind on the dancefloor,
make you want to lick lollipop more and more.
But you need to prove you can handle this,
if you want to share me in this bliss.
Paint me a Warhol, no a Lichtenstein,
buy me some expensive wine.
For these lips are rare,
do this dare.
Let me put my lipstick on,
it’s time to get your groove on.

Loverboy.

The Password for Life

An orchid born of the sacred dawn,
whispers the scent of life
in dormant butterflies ,
like the innocence of fairies
in a child`s vivid fantasy.
Crystallised trees,
attack the sword of love into the anarchy
that we have made with our god-given hands.
A luminescence in the dreams
of the purest souls,
such is the rarity
of this summer which we can conquer
through the sacrifice of cynicism.
As our wicked pupils torture the belief of prayer,
let us guide our guilty footsteps to the shrine of the
eclipsed jewel.
A single touch will cleanse our smoked existence.
Trickery is a weapon that no intelligence can fight, except for
chance, the holiest disguise of forgiveness.
So close your eyes and pray
For it is only in the darkness that such glory can be found.

Numbers

The walk of love,
If I were to become a poet will
dress with the cliche of a spiked rose.
But with this new age,
such antique thoughts will face it’s harsh inevitability.
As it burns with the legacy of the Id.
The brutality of beauty,
we all are victims of
the silent obsessive compulsive disorder.
Vintage.

The innocence that black and white possess,
sweeps my mind into the colour of love.
And as the shadow darkens,
A reminder of reality,
in which the four chambers of my heart,
cannot tremble,
in te amo.
As a young woman,
in this poisoned generation, I wait.
A miracle. A firebomb,
to shatter the hidden glass of my broken window,
so the poet inside can cease scripting
mathematical words.

About a Carty

If only the literature of Oscar Wilde,
could scar my impatient eye,
with the kaleidoscope of your vivid imagination.
Oh so naive..
is the heart of the human mind,
a heart which prays for the suffering to end
but not for happiness,
that will shine away the shadows of doubt
in a glass heart.
So you fluoresce
and uncover the curtains,
a showcase of smiles.
Warmth, Joy, form the skeleton
Of these chemical imbalances,
which have metamorphosised into
my very core.

I pray that this show never ends.

Can't stop crying

How cursed our kind is
That it feels,
Murdered by one self,
Arrogance for penniless virtue
To love is to understand
But in this heart of mine do these misunderstandings
Gain life
For we all are slaves to these demons of life
Incivibility can only be broken with the weapon of physical beauty
Blessed to the allies of the demons
Burning into a kaleidoscope of ancient brushstrokes
Scar the evils of our mind
O build the skeleton of my scriptures
In such mechanics I seek my solace
That no human could ever provide

Ideal Friendship

It is only in the sunshine,

That you can find my grand shadow,

Which shade over the fragile

Foundations of your heart

I give worth its true definition,

For I have poured my soul into you

A soul which cannot be bought

With the evil virtues of man

Or be torn with betrayal

So in the moonlight

As your eyes gaze, and you cannot

shift the darkness from your conflicted mind

Let me wipe the slate clean

As we walk in unison

On this journey called life

Bill and Sookie

Its 5 a.m

How cursed is our love,

To be betrayed by the sun,

Its rise shadows your porcelain face

Into powdered darkness,

the sacred fusion of our alienated blood

your breath on my feeble neck,

seduction is such a feeble thought

for you have given me the miracle

of feeling alive again.

To live is to sacrifice,

Myself into you

I bleed with deceitful humanity

Let my blood drain into you

For eternity