Tag Archives: Mystique

Oops!… We Did It Again (a Shaman)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2014-2018

GUEST POST // Portrait Of Me by Tokoni O. Uti

I’m painting a picture of my mystique.
Of my crooked lines and strange physique.
I’m fulfilling my part of the self-love pledges.
And refusing to brush away my rough edges.
I’m showing the rewards of my foolish lies.
And proudly displaying the circles beneath my eyes.
My skin bears gifts from the morning sun.
And scars from childhood fun.
I’m painting a picture of nature’s grand.
I’m painting a portrait of me.

by TOKONI O. UTI
© All rights reserved 2014

GUEST POST // 100 Clocks by Field of thorns

My heart — has its very own heart
It’s very, very small
This very small heart
Beats louder than –
A hundred clocks upon the wall
This very small heart
Is kept under lock
Wrapped up well –
Often out of stock.

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014

GUEST POST // Long Bones & Lace by Field of Thorns

I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
In my fragile vanilla tower —
Off-white, yellowed with age
Made up of cross sections
Of mainly manly long bones
Thin little discs
My palace, my keeps
My Honeycomb Catacombs
Wafers, not for consumption
Articulated — in kind
With precious cabochon gemstones
Emeralds and Peridots of Olivine Greens
Queens envying
The nine lives of Tiger’s Eyes.

I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
But for the birds —
Crimson canaries
Made red by a parting sea
Fly in skein and swain
Speed, the likes I’ve never seen
The blur of Autumn Reds leave a trail
Vermillion swish with a tail
Scarlet whoosh of wind
Ruffling the chimes of ivory
Humanity’s wind chimes of teeth
Gentle ivory chatter floats on the breeze
Behind by the flight, of crimson canaries.

I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
All that is heard
In my silent world
Teeth softly speaking
Agile words once left unspoken
Grace the halls, grace the walls
Secrets to my keeps
Released, by the whispering ivory
To a privileged ear
Untold confessions unfold
Not so far, but near
A lovely chimed chant to hear.

I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
As Day retreats
Dusk turns to Dark
In my world of Threes
An unholy trinity — a trilogy
Amber to lavender
Lavender to a violet gray night
Candles of fat and marrow
Burn throughout the night
While Morpheus greets
My little quilled crimson canaries
Jealous, suffering from a constant wake
All is quiet, all is in a hushed state.

I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
Silence is fleeting —
Lit wicks shadow-cast
Prance the dance of Seven Veils
Flames shimmer and flicker
To a snake charming flute
Hypnotize and mesmerize
These watchful eyes
Until the dawn arrives with Eos
Waking my crimson canaries
She swings open Heaven’s Gates
Releasing a golden amber sunrise
A Passing Passion bright
Silhouettes of lace
Rays of light fill my keeps
Beautiful champagne streamers
Crawl through holes in honeycomb
Where catacombs sleep and weep.

I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
To repeat, to repeat —
Full circle, no prey, no pray
No need for it’s perfectly clear
As I’m cursed to wait here
In my vanilla tower
Wafers of honeycomb
Crimson canaries
Softly speaking teeth
Amber sunrises
Lavender afternoons
Dancing flames of the violet gray nights
Waiting behind the Seven Gates
What more could I want —
While waiting alone and awake?

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014

GUEST POST // Towers of Canaries by Field of thorns

A room with no window,
a room with no door.
One foot in, one foot out,
both my feet, flat on the floor.

A train of thought running,
each and every day.
I am the prisoner of this tower,
that stands but five foot two.

Currently, I love my captivity,
since the alternative maybe rather bleak.
I pass the days, hour by hour,
like all the other lovely towers.

We are all just a crowd of towers,
like a forest full of trees.
I feel like a canary in a mineshaft,
in this tower that belongs to me.

Upon release from captivity,
my tower will be just am empty cage.
Farewell to my fellow towers,
as I soar and fly away.

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014