GUEST POST // when I’m seventy by listentothebabe

how many tattoos
before I’ve said all
I need to say about me?
etched into my skin
definitions I don’t want
to forget.
when I’m seventy I won’t regret
having been inked,
even if wrinkled and faded,
they’re lost in the folds.
I’ll pull my skin tight
and there
I am.
I won’t ever be lost to myself.

 

by LISTENTOTHEBABE
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Tessellate by Obsidian Visionary

Change your very being to blend in
Not be colorful while the rest have pale skin
Ignore the crow’s calling to sleep with doves
Maybe then you will find true love.

Love of being accepted into to the idea of Propriety,
Bearing the dark mark of a disheveled society
Vanish into the constant pattern of in-numerous nobody’s
Trapped in the array, mind fervently fuzzy.

Cut the sides, smooth the edges
To fit right in, resignation you must pledge.
The fear of being an outcast far too great
Sink into the mould as triangles tessellate.

Is this the wondrous utopia you had dreamt ?
An atrocious life where you are unnaturally bent.
Maybe you were never meant to fit the “mould”
But instead to be your true motley of silver and gold.

 

by OBSIDIAN VISIONARY
© All rights reserved 2015

Implanted

I took lessons of humility
from the worn roadside stones.
Nothing can teach civility
so well as the shattered bones.
That’s why my posture is queenly
and my manners are aesthetic.
Your sense of beauty knows so keenly
when reality is prosthetic.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Woman In Black by Obsidian Visionary

I feel the pain in my head,
As rage grips my mind like a claw.
I now see with clarity the Woman in Black,
Radiant as the sun and without flaw.

Her ashen face cloaked by an exquisite veil,
Like the sun eclipses the moon.
As she beckons me closer with half a smile,
A step forward and I’m ready to swoon.

Her beautiful face turns murky with every step,
As my head throbs with a need for release.
Is it folly to continue on this treacherous path,
Or is it destiny calling in all its wrath.

I choose to move onward, pain now gripping my heart,
While the epitome of beauty casts down her impenetrable veil.
To reveal not a face of serenity,
But one ravaged to all extremity.

I try to run but the agony is far too great,
Falling to the ground, flashes of white seize my mind.
Peace engulfs me in its arms as I take my final breath,
Looking at the Woman in Black who was nothing but death.

 

by OBSIDIAN VISIONARY
© All rights reserved 2014