Captive

Knock on your heart and ask it to let go. Tell it that it should no longer feel the way it does. It more than likely will just mock you and continue to dig its self a grave for which there will be no return from. So then, how does one go about severing the heart from the cognitive mind? To allow it to still feel, to still beat to a drum all its own, but keep it from the mind. To not allow the mind to register those dark seeded, mysterious, beyond rhyme and reason feelings?

These questions will test the true fabric of one's soul until their dying breath. There is no return once that single threshold has been crossed. There is no looking back, there is no reliving the past as it was written, the actions of the past might rear their ugly heads once again, but the outcome will be vastly different. We live, we learn. We are wounded but we heal. We recover, we become better with age, we mature, we obtain knowledge that will build the bridge over what we once thought was uncrossable. We will stake out on our new adventure within the same life as we have lead, with a new out look. A new prospective on the old. See things we blindly over looked once before. To not become duped and lead astray again.

There will be those same lingering wraiths in the shadows that will try to slip out and sink their talons in deep, and not let go. To hold captive the fears that once lived and flourished in the fertile grounds of the mind and heart. However, this time around, they will not be given the fuel they need to grow and fester; to infect everything around them. Their poison will not be given the host to dwell within. Where there was once dark there is light, to expel those shadows, to give way to the room to move forward. To trudge, to continue against the odds, against person will, but through sheer determination. Seeking out strengths that were once weakness.

Confidence will be the rouse, strength will soon dispel such rouse and make it golden truth. IF truth was not harsh, then there would be no need to lie. No need to mask what the truth holds within the ugly brutal black and white. Truth is not grey, it is the black to the white. It is the hand that wraps around the throat, strangling the breath of dream and hopes. It is the children's laughter, but the irony that soon the innocence of that laughter will turn jaded. Such is the way of the world, giving that protective veil of innocence, where one can blindly move through life believing that all is well... but soon death, decay, deceit, lies, cruelty, all of the sins of the world will slink their ways in with their seductive dance of ribbons, to pierce the veil and rip is asunder. To expose the virgin eyes to the world around them.

Anguish will come and there will be naught one can do to stop the whirl wind tango that will progress. It will start out small, things that can be over looked, but soon, there will be no turning the cheek, no putting on the blinders. One day, we all have to face the ugly truth, to face it head on and lift our chins and steel our wills against it, or become the moth crushed under the wheel of fate.

Fate... She is one bitch not to be reckoned with. Where karma is the wench with razor blades, and she cuts deep on the occasion, but there is a calm with karma, but with Fate, there is no tenderness to her touch. There is no reprieve from her vicious cycle. Giving and taking, much like death... never knowing what hand you will be dealt, when to take a risk, when to rise the bet, when to hold, when to call... never knowing if it a bluff that she holds. Risk... it is all a game of risk mixed in with the clever coyness of a fox, the cunning sharp wit of woman... clever as any warrior... trusting in your self and knowing that with a mocking smile from fate, that you are utterly fucked.

Tenderness, bah, it is a laughable word. There is nothing tender in this world. It is vicious, it is the way it is.

No, no, there is no need to pity, that is a horrid state of mind any way, and an utter waste of time and energy. But hate... now hate is a powerful emotion, where revenge blooms. It is wicked, it is that one emotion where passion has no counter part of compassion. Where it is purely selfish and there needs be no reason to apologize for it. Hate will rear an ugly head in the form of jealousy, but those that know the emotion well, will realize it is no jealousy, it is not envy, it is not any other form of the pathetic emotions that makes one less than what they are. They are normal human emotions, sure enough, but they are emotions for slaves and whores. They have no place in a free woman's world. They have no place in mine.

I laugh, and people wonder why. Believing that I should be.... what??? Destroyed, crumpled on the floor of my villa wallowing in.... defeat... pft. That is the last thing that will happen. There are just somethings that require a more refined and elegant approach. With a cold touch, and a seductive burn. To tap into the heritage of my blood lines, to ascertain from it what I will need to become everything I am meant to be.

Time is just the road on which I ride the gales of. It is what I do with that time that will define me, not the other way around. The events of my life have been that, mile stones. From one memory to another, it is how I react to those events, how I come out on the other end, not the event it's self. Me... I ... my self... I am in control of it. I am the one that gets to decide how I should feel, how I should react, how I should progress.

One little fork in the road. One is the easier way out... the other is darker but is the higher ground. My love for Cos, has lead me to take the higher road. To continue forward. I will not let my past define who I will be tomorrow. I alone will make that choice.

I will no longer be the captive in this little game, even if I remain the prey, I will not remain the captive. Under the thumb no longer. With in the embrace of destiny I find a new path to travel. So fate... bring it on... lets dance under the pale moon light... what devils will you throw my way.

Intermission

How fickle can the night become? Mm, lets just humor the mind for now and count the ways, but afraid I would run out of ink and page before the answers are penned down for all entirety for some poor soul to stumble upon it and should they read it, if they can read that is. Half the world is blind, the other ignorant. Simpletons, truly.

However, we have come to the intermission... now is when the mind plays the devious tricks upon the heart... and the lingering fires of the soul. The stage has been set, but, it would appear that the puppet master has grown bored of the game and the puppets have just been placed with in a little toy box and left upon a high self. Oh, what a rusty cage we sit in. The illusions have been played out, now the truth behind the curtain and smoke and mirrors are revealed for those that have the keen eye and sharp mind to take note of it.

So, what we have here is a pretty little doll house, and pretty little figurines that are there collecting dust, well hog wash to that whole debacle. I refuse to sit on some self and just wait and twiddle my thumbs and expect something to happen. Seriously?! It is out of the question, I refuse to take this with my back turned. Oh no, no, there will be no snide remarks that go unheard, plots that are unseen. This will be a full frontal attack.

Intermission???

Now that is just the perfect time to introduce the foreplay before the next carnal lusty act to take place. For the next scene, the next act, the next draw of life to begin. While one might be taking an intermission, -I- however will not be. Pawns are in place and set to place roots, and leech information.

Now, that sounds evil. Perhaps it is. But time for nice an polite has come to a bloody end. It is time to turn the tables and drive the dagger home and true for the last time.

Expectations...?

I have none, never did. Just the illusion of hope. The faith enough to be allowed the fanciful indulgence to dare ever hope for anything more than what I have right now... Will this mean I give up... please, when has anyone known me to ever give up? Hm? Oh... that is right, --NEVER-- It is not in me to give up, I am a stubborn wench and truly I do not care.

Opinions?

Everyone has them, and the brilliant thing about them, they mean squat to me, they are like asses, everyone has them and they are full of shit. So let them talk, let them have there little truffles and wine, for I do not give two flying tarns at the moment. It does not concern me, it matters so little in my own world, wrapped in my selfish desires.

Love?

It is just a dirty word, used as the pink ribbon tied in a bow that combines, lust, passion, desire, possession and the many other wonderful human emotions. It is fickle, for --IF-- one truly, honestly, loves another, they give all, forsake the rest, and expect nothing in return. They do not hold out for the hope the other will return those same emotions, that is lust... that is the carnal natural desires that are sparked in us as humans, as mammals.

Trust?

I have it. It does not lack. I keep few friends for a purpose, I mock others for a reason. I keep people at a distance. Less I let in, the less that can shatter trust, the less that can bruise the heart and leave a valley so empty that it swallows me whole, leaving me to wallow with in the crippling pain of the lost half. Trust your enemies, at least they are constant in their actions. The hate you or want you dead. How can one differ in that path? Hm? No... see it is the ones that you let in, that gain and earn your trust, your blind faith that without fail turn it on your and just run you through with the sword and expect you to bat an eye lash and let everything be all right. When nothing is all right, it is so wrong that shit smells like roses. Are you kidding me? I can pretend with the best of them. Act and give them a show. After all that is what this is all about.

My Illusion?

Is what every I deem it to be. To become and be anyone I so choose when I so choose. I know I can will away all the pain if I so choose, or I can cling on to it like a life line and use it to fuel and feed the illusions I weave. I am not the soft flighty sort of woman. Some think I like them... oh, but if they knew the truth, afraid this compassionate, devoted, loyal, strong, woman would just crush their sensitive emotions.

Hurt?

Yes, yes I hurt. Yes I feel, acutely so. I know the pains of many things, have seen things no other should. Have been through things that should have been my end, my ruin. And yet, my skeletons, my past, my secrets, my sins, my dark desires are not to rule me, they do not define who I am. They might damage a reputation, but a reputation is not who I am. No one truly knows who I am. And that is the way it will be. I do not have to please people, I have no need to. I heal for I am good at it, and it is one of the driving forces in my life. Cos and my children are the other two.

Curtain call...

The draw of the curtain and the show must go on. The show does go on. So we give them a little spice to gossip about, we give them some fodder for thought. IF they can even form two thoughts together, more than likely not. Some can, and those are rather interesting people. But... when the holy trinity, the mind, the heart, the loins, all come together in unison, that is when mountains are moved, that is when dreams come true, adventure is laid out. When Spence and anticipation are the addictions... So sweet serenity... lets tango shall we... give the mob something new to fret about. How many can we make squirm? The lights are lit, the audience is waiting with baited breath... we shall keep them no longer...

Never turn your back on a tempest, for her siren's call will still assault your in your inner ear...

Trust me... Trust in me... [Nothing but empty words without honesty]

Tempest

Tempest

You saw perched on a cliff a maid,
Her raiment white above the breakers,
When the mad sea reared up and played
Its whips of spray on coastal acres
And now and then the lightnings flush,
And purple gleams upon her hover,
And fluttering up in swirling rush,
The wind rides in her airy cover?
Fair is the sea in gales arrayed,
The heavens drained of blue and flashing,
But fairer on her cliff the maid
Than storms and skies and breakers crashing.

---Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

Gone

Dancing in the firelight
hooked together to take flightf
or precious moments we do no wrong
if we listen to our song
then its gone its leaving fast
all our love left in a blast
standing in the roses two
we have nothing left to do
we turn away and both can see
exactly how we're meant to be
but all is lost we say good-bye
so much for our plan to fly
i might get over it
i might move on
but life is hard when your soulmates' gone

Tears

TEARS
Tears of Joy
Tears of sorrow
Tears I cry of forgotten tomorrows
Tears in vain
I cry my tears
Trickle down my cheek
Sparkle in the light
Lift up my chin as I weep in the night
I must remember all my emotions
For I will keep them in a box to bring out
When I must hide them otherwise
Or I will be chided
So, Hold these tears for another day
Then I can surely use them
When I am in hiding

Soulmate

And if by chance you wanted me not,
Into a cave my heart would sure fall.
But I’d pick up the pace and summon my pluck
And learn to plunge back out into it all.

You must know this one thing to tell of my heart.
This is from a muse so true,
I’d venture a universe thrice deep as far,
To find another such as you.

You are stitched to my heart,
To your love I am bound.
You make life seem like art,
My soul mate I finally found.

Storm

Storm


The way you look at me,
Is like no one else sees.
Your glances pierce my heart;
Your stares mend my soul.

A darkness brews behind your eyes,
Baffling brilliant blue,
As silently you stew,
A smile of mystery on your lips.

I ache inside when not with you.
Not the burning pain of loss,
But passion missed,
For you are there and not here.

You stir me with a touch,
And raise a storm inside me.
My heart pounds with thunder,
Death's drums beat in my ears.

Remembering the brush of your lips,
Sets me quivering,
Electricity and ecstasy.
I'm afire, longing for the next rain.