The stream (all workshops)
hazel perillo's
climb into the shade of Mercurys gate
the vines are weeping winds
the salt kiss betroth sweet muses ache
A Joy
The Great Bear lifted his head,
Even the stars realised
That in the heavens life was good
The stars reminded him of past days,
but the pattern in his mind’s eye,
was so different to those he was use to.
He saw the Seven Sisters so close,
that he reached out to touch them,
then realized where he was.
Life, good enough to bring him here,
the Spirit called he had answered,
with all the love and light in his heart.
To all fellows he gave perfect love.
I write tonight
With tears on my face
For I'm alone again
Unwanted in this place
Plenty of faces to see
But none that looks back
My hearts red color
Is now fading to black
Wrinkling seas of thought
Flowing down to my lips
Like rivers banks
Holding oceans hips
Have shown my last moon
For when I awake
The sun shining bright
Will seem so fake
I have no fuel for my fire
My life has lost it's spark
Numbed feelings and a shaded soul
Left me laying in the dark
Hearing my life as I listen to music
Life is music cause someone still breathing produces
It seems useless trying to hide my emotion
Something within me refuses to remain a hermit
Confusion is conducive Damn my style is a nuisance
Seems like my rhytmn abuses rhyme on purpose
Abusive what do to the instrumental
The reluctant bride
a gun at her side
last night she cried
"never again" she sighed
today stands with false pride
smiling but dying inside
her groom petrified
her father feels justified
her mother mortified
her pregnancy they deride
the reluctant bride
HALLELUJAH
Religious wars, where absolutes are proven neither wrong nor right,
Have body counts that must show war's absurd.
Religion has, for centuries, been generating heat, not light
With slashing swords excused by Holy words.
Though generations fight to make their true God number one again;
Though thousands die for crescent or for cross.
Fanatics on both sides still wade across vast seas of blood and pain,
The meaning of the scriptures now long lost.
Enlisting the charms
of the fire,
in wistful music
I spoke from the lyre
Entrancing the beckoning
to his knees,
this bubbling lust
is slightly freed
A trail of whisper
licks my ear,
drawing me close
to hold me near
Touching a rose
tips the peaks,
a burgeoning lust
is lightly tweaked
Unbuttoning need
in frenzied grasps,
ripping to free
a stubborn clasp
Fumbling fingers
brush and bump,
grinding of hips
begins the thump
In early times the Ubeline
had fallen from their grace divine
when Ubelon, their kin and lord
against the Master's solemn word
transgressed and tarried long in sin. 5
The errant angel hid within
the confines of his solitude
as outlaw from the multitude
that gathered round the throne of Him
who made them all. Where light was dim 10
and shadow crept beyond the wall
of the expansive, ornate halls
the Master made. Where night was kept,
was where the errant angel slept.
Mucks are must…
Laws excepted are very forces.
More in natures all are very fixations.
Laws with complexes all are lords.
Lords that lord are fit at fixes.
Cyprian nobles CURILO named.
Some enjoy our colds and stiff for comforts just are wet.
Crimes that wetted are not that called.
Nature calls are easy things.
Bloods that fetch or cashes that seize are politic trickery.
Complete apathy all may suffer as die.
All to stir the leaders’ wrongs are mucks that must.
MUCKAMUCK is social must.
With my jaded western eye I see
a woman and her family
next to a home bombed-out and done
after the rockets are all gone,
but I realize that as I look
I only see what rockets took,
and not the air-raids or the bombs
that smashed so many Gaza homes,
and the burqa I am looking at
is not symbolic of the fact
that she is oppressed by those
who started warfare with their blows;
it is instead a statement of
her faith that almighty God above
protects her and her family
from those who call her enemy,
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