Twisting Kaleidocsope

On a bar, the tourist twists a dime
In Calcutta
It's closing time.

There's a fluttering sari
Dancing softly to the tongue of silent music
Making the stranger drinkers wary.

A drunken snake-whisperer
Stares at the thousand
Movements evoking the paths of a conjurer.

Hips swaying
Like the Babylon
Charms reminders of witches of Avalon.

She shows us all but her eyes
Averted windows
To rainbows in the skies.

Bedazzling waves
Of coffee silk and Imri
Are all our idle tourist ever craves.

Achmar, Ajwain, Bazil
Flavours of the East
Enslave his will.

Hare, Kesar, Nimbu
His synapses seek
Only to imbue.

Pyaz, Rai, Saji and Til
Cascading forth
From the window sill.

Alighting the streets
With flowers and fire
Fulfilling all madnesses filled with desire.

She dances softly
With her belt buclke ringing
The light from her jewellery stinging.

As they were all under her spell
The black curtain of fate fell
And she lifted her kaleidoscope eyes.

Madness, lies, Shiva
Aja, Jara, Savratapana
Blissful chaos settled, and the world turned to stone.

With her twisting irises
Long-lashed stars
The death of the world arises.

A Hell Hound On My trail

We don't have to be glad to be content
We don't have to be less to feel more
We don't have to drink when we're sore
We don't have to starve during lent.

And she shines because she's a superstar
And the inquisitive world wonders how she got so far
And the blame goes to the war
The result - to us all.

I can't really think for a reason to laugh
I can't be one when I feel half
Cut from me is somewhere
Not seeing me from over there.

A lily can float
Without the impulse to gloat
To the heavy set rock
That, sinking, joins the flock

Of sheep fallen on the riverbed.

I don't have to do a thing
I don't even have to think
If I choose not to.

So I refuse to bend
I refuse my hard-earned glory to lend
Nobody should be hell-sent
Because they resented being led.

And nobody has to be whole to be happy
That's the truth turned sappy
And the world is not exactly round

I'm telling you, we're all Heaven-bound.

Wonderland

In my world
Broken whores have angels' wings
Cyrillic doves have bees' stings
And all is topsy-turvey.

My words are converted into song
My short-cropped hair is unexpectedly long
My wizened recent history rings in my head
Alighting past feelings long dead

I am reminded of a place
Where we walked on transparent skies
And made wishes upon falling leaves
There, love never dies.

And we used to point at grass
Lying sprawled on our backs against the moss
Of clouds and mist
There, your fingers grabbed my wrist.

But our contact was not physical
Nor did my speeding soul belong to anything clinical
Ours was a contact of souls
In one moment, devoid of all goals

For a milisecond
That lasted an hour
We were both sincere
And sweet felt the moment, otherwise sour

In my world,
The Cheshire Cat
Cries behind its Cheshire grin
But all other souls smile from within.

In my world
There are no masters to the sand
Nor to the lightning, nor the word
My world, my dear, is Wonderland.

And I am not some sort of Alice
Belonging to bourgeoisie
I am simply the sower of a world without malice
Wonderland is, in fact, me.

Confusing Romances in Uncertain Seasons

In your hands I lay the torn ribbons of my soul
A little figurine of an ambiguous material
To play in your childish games the role
Of myself, and a love too immaterial.

Admittedly, I rushed in giving you the thing
I hoped that your heart would not spring
To the cache future of commitment, devotion
Which, by general consensus, mean absence of all emotion.

But it was like I had screamed, and you recoiled
And in the instant our gaze turned blank, my arteries boiled
For in that marmelade symbolism you saw
Threads of the life you fancied cut raw.

So you dashed from your seat
Down the twilight alley
With your hands drowning the beat
Coming from the valley.

In the valley passed a crowd
Spreading music way out loud
Music humming in my heart and brain
Music seeking every one of my emotions to drain.

As I heard the empty echo of your footsteps walk away
I waited for the world to tumble down
Crash and burn on my shoulders as I insecurely began to sway.
And whilist I cannot say I received a crown

Something truly was relieved: my frown.

I saw no point to hang my heart teethily to yours
No finality to cry and beg for love on all fours
No purpose to being down
Disinteresting I deemed attempting to drown.

So disdainfully yours,
I rose from my seat
Next to yours' cold shores
I straightened my back, some oblivion to meet.

I threw my blackberry scarf on the wizened park bench
I laughed till I felt my teeth were like sand
Carelessly strutting away from a breakup's stench
I flashed the world a smile and joined the band.

Whispers - Part Three: Underwater Reality

She would do it today; today she would become healthy again.
Cecilia sat scantily clothed on the pier. It was winter, so nobody was there. Again, she was alone, but this time she felt the fluid voices calling to her from amid the crashing waves. The rocks below did not frighten her with their sharp, dark edges rising from the water. As soft as swan feathers she saw them, undulating to the curves of a blackbird's bare back. The steaming froth of the freezing water jumped high upon hitting the pier's edge. The wind rendered her dark hair dishevelled even under the knitted hat she had recived from Dorian three Christmases ago.

No one was there, thus no one saw what she looked like. She was wearing the wedding dress she had worn on the Eve of Dorian's death. Strikingly white against the wet grey of the pier, her dress flew under the strength of the wind. On her fingers she had the three rings Dorian had given her - emerald, diamond and pearl. Around her neck was the white gold necklace she had received for her birthday; above her heart was the dove brooch she had fallen in love with while walking down Broadway and which Dorian had bought for her. The hat, the dress, the jewellery - wrecked vestiges of her love, now abused by the winter winds of the sea.

She took a step forward, and with a breath released her thoughts into the water. She let the waves have her soul, whilist she stared into the same shifting spot of water. Unexpectedly, a sea of bald, translucent arms rose from the waves, reaching for the hem of her dress. Their glowing claws tore the beaded silk as Cecilia understood the betrayal and treachery ebbed on the faces beneath the waves. If Dorian were among the mermaids, he sould have come to greet her and ease her passage. If Dorian had been there, she would have seen his angelic face under the foam, his barley locks and soft lips.

"No!" Cecilia spat at the engulfing, slithering tentacles of the hissing creatures. Half-men, Half-fish, Half-women, Half-scaly - they had risen halfway from the whirlpools and were lashing out at her. Marble, cold-blooded skins were beating agaist the pavement of the pier. She turned round, making a swift escape.

"Come," a distant whisper was heard, making her blood curdle. Then a swish, a slash and a fall. Cecilia was on her knees, scraping the smooth seams of her dress and crushing the glass beads of her dress against the cement into a million particles of dust. As they shattered, all hope was driven away from Cecilia. The hold on he dress was too tight, the hold on her soul was too deviously peevish and perverted to die now. She let go, hoping for nothing, secretly wishing for the fulfillment of the mermaids' promises.

She was swalloed selfishly by the waves, paralysed by their coldness. She never found Dorian. Her soul haunted the ruins of wrecked ships, swaying to the tune of the distant, wordless, meaningless songs of the torturing mermaids. It was the price she had to pay for ever listening to the Whispers and falling prey to the Charms of the Underwater Beasts.

I want it all - and I want it now

Hmm, seeing as i got tagged yet again [hugs to Pucca for that], this is me bending to the rules...and liking it:->.

I want:

> Starbucks Chocolate Cake.

> Time.

> Sleep.

> Ice cream raining down on me...No, wait...the raining part would be messy...

> Two heaps of money: one I could donate, the other spend on clothes.

> Music in the streets. Classy music.

> Random hugs.

> Patience to finish a book or some sort of literary oeuvre.

> Lacy wings. They'd be a nice touch, don't you think?

> Superpowers. Like flying or reading minds...preferably both...

> A vampire lover for each of my friends.

> Fever [In the morning.] Fever [When you hold me tight.]

> Green eyes.

> Prettier handwriting.

> A decent singing voice.

> The ability to walk in stilettos.

> The posession of stilettos.

> My fantasies to come true.

> To discover some day that my fantasy-world exists.

> To never have to kiss a frog in order to get a prince. [Seriously, can't he just kiss a mirror and be done with it?]

> A Farie twin.

> To rule the world. [This is just the grave cliche ending, it's not really true.]

There you have it. Cony, Betz, consider urselves tagged:->

Peace \m/