Cravings For Creativity

Behind the curtains of this smile, are freshly sewed wounds;

Rich yarns finely whipped by the Armageddon; 

Each touch turned colder, from philosophy of ashes to ashes;

Each an ongoing curse, of every memory of Attila the Hun;

That lingers gleaming thread of gold, 

At Augustan Age of Destiny's playful fingertips.

Every healing oblivion of Avatar’s Axis, to cheat Fate’s design;

Babel of a wicked clock, droplets of tears, and rain intertwined,

Shout “Give me what was once mine!”

I send the core of my heart, to dissect this hurting, 

Where a kaleidoscope of dying leaves and blood set the stage.

Chimes of my dissection chants 

“Let this agony scream, of Autumn‘s burning despair;

Let this pain sing, when the tide of love is low.”  

Babes in the woods, gaze into my being, 

By magnetic lips of centuries of work and worth of art.

“Kiss me before this fades, and undress me of these fears.”   

I ask the King of sacred heaven, and eyes of glowing fire.

Before Babylon’s delicate loudness envelop me in dim light;

A moment of forever lost in time, commissions dancing curves—

By bacchanal carousel of hot and cold tainted thoughts. 

Bad day at Black Rock, unveils mutilated wings, past the ugly parts; 

Banquo's ghost germinates a suitcase filled with hope; 

bare ruined choirs and broke boomerang that never returned,

Sing songs and sling arts as a doomed dance for the faithful; 

A goodbye that still asks me to stay, is a mother‘s prayer, 

Making a wish, fading from my rearview, to welcome the rain.