I took her hand
and poured gold in her veins.
There was nothing more I could do.
I just got back from the shack out in the Woods ‘cause I thought it could be cool to rule the local wild for a while,
maybe bring a smile to my fairly funky face,
but it went sour
my aurum power proved dour after too few hours.
If only digestion didn’t have a bias
against the trials of King Midas,
gold causes me severe gastritis,
in agony, alone in the silence,
I had to make an alliance
with the mire I might become buried in,
and only the syrups of sin,
that is, whiskey and gin,
had the rights of alchemy to enter me.
Was so wasted on rye that I learned to fly
from a raccoon that I raced to the Moon,
she won, even went to the Sun,
“Don’t burn up, hon!”
Sea of black, what is it you hide?
Please tell me your secrets in me, please confide.
On deck of the ship, blue moon in the sky,
Into your heavy dark waves I peer and I pry.
You conceal many things, so pardon the brusque ,
I have some questions I would like to discuss
...thus...
I ask of you this mighty watery force,
reveal to me please these things in due course :
Tell me about how they were saved from the deluge,
In the Ark a family protected in refuge.
Or where lay the Isle of Greek titan Atlas.
A land consumed by your eternal cold blackness.
Share with me jewels and cursed pirate gold.
Spoils in your clutches you so preciously hold.
Of sunken ships and scattered bones.
Failed quests to glory forgotten kings thrones.
What monsters you hide in the dark of your deep?
Things of nightmare that make grown men wake from their sleep?
Reveal these things, so that I return a wealthier man,
Gold in pocket shilling in hand.
With magical tales of faraway places.
Lost secrets that lurk in your fathomless spaces.
At night these things to my children I'll tell,
And a love of adventure will be cast,
Like a spell.
*
THE SKIN OF A PEACH
*
The skin of the ripe peach...
pastels of lemon, saffron, pink
and gold, with a touch of crimson...
the fruit gift inside is gold or
pink...
so who can say what color peach is.
-saiom shriver-
*
http://spot.acorn.net/fruitarian
http://ncpreppers.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/bowl-of-peaches.jpg
The race of the moon-beasts
Inhabit the far side of the Moon.
Sailing Earth's Dreamlands,
In sinister black galleys,
Trading for gold and slaves.
Hideous to look upon,
Concealing themselves below decks
When they come into the port
Of the ever-beautiful Dreamlands.
One I recall is Dylath-Leen,
Whom no man has ever seen.
The horned-men of Leng,
Take care of all trading marks.
The galleys take the slaves
To an island in the Cerenerian Sea
Called the Nameless rock,
Where they are tortured till eternity.
The evil vessel galleys
Sail off the edge of the world
Past the great cataract in the west,
And through the gulf
That separates the Earth from the Moon.
My heart glitters at thy remebrance
Moistened with your embrace
Heart twinkles; a resemblance
My love for you; a race
My heart gliiters at thy remembrance
Joyious for shared kisses
Missed such glorious occurance
Body craves in emptiness
My heart glitters at thy remebrace
A plausible character
Deliveribility with much grace
All for you; my character
With much love in my heart
You are forever my gold
baby_boss
Not quite gold
But somehow always compared to it
I've heard of its value,
Its mention through the years
Mostly exsting in wedding bands
Or in cutlery for the wealthy.
I do not know its worth
I do not know gold's either
And there the comparisons continue
I wonder if the element minds
Remaining in second place,
Always being looked down by gold,
Its perfect big brother,
If you will.
Silver makes good heart-shaped lockets,
I'm sure it also serves
To uncover a deadly monster
Featured in Supernatural.
I'm sure silver does not like being silver.
I wouldn't want to be silver.
I think gold is what silver wants to be.
It does not want to end up a knife,
Spoon,
Fork,
Silver wants to be wanted
So much that others fight for it.
Silver wants to be looked at
For its bright color,
Not the dull grayish one
It comes with.
Silver could be gilded,
Though that would make it worthless.
But I don't think silver is that bad
If you really think about it.
Gold attracts too much attention,
While silver is a reserved one.
I know silver wants to be gold,
And to stop being compared and contrasted
Heartlessly
But maybe at the end of the day
Silver just wants to stay silver
I have a heart that’s made of stone
Because you cannot live on love alone
If you want my love
You will have to etch your name
On a heart that no one wants to claim
Once I had a heart of gold
But it’s since been changed to fit the mold
Of a selfish world and a tragic past
A world where gold would never last
Then you came with a heart of fire
Blazing flames climb ever higher
The heart of stone can feel its glow
And stone becomes like melting snow
Squandered without consideration,
A heartless act of bitter vengeance at the world,
Feeling rejected, ejected from familiarity,
Contemptuous and scorned younglings,
Unarmed and void of forbearance,
Becoming a vacuum for anguish without release,
And a mirror of community neglect,
Reflection of parental confusion and malevolence,
Rancid energy bouncing out and back again,
Like a lifelong game of handball with societal ills,
Defective skills, knowing no better,
Seeking no end, with peace undefined,
Due to taking root in a life unkind,
What will grow in this wasteland?
Putrid soil of chemical waste,
Splintered shreads of nothingness,
Spitefully believed to be gods,
Dreams, falling to ash like rotted flesh,
The shells of what once sustained hope,
Lying in the cocoon of human ignorance,
And no returns of virtues past,
For the sake of reaping a fool's gold.
© 2013