Tragic Banquet
Biting into
the fatal fruit
the juice runs
down the sewer
drain
and everything that
begs to stick
to the silver screen
is a
distant dream...
The kissing couple
with the leaves
falling down...
The dog and its
leash, and the jangling
sound,
in this kiosk
of amusement
with token gestures
doling round and round...
Counting every eyelash
yesterday’s youth
will not apologize
yet again
for the life it fingers
as it dines...
The banquet has
no flavor left
for innocence
to savour,
a fragile memory
has nibbled away
the crust of reason
and so much
seems out of place
like a joint
gone to ruin
by moist disuse
emits decrepit
after tastes...
Love was lost
at first touch,
grabbing
for too much
how I wish
we could have
given thanks,
now and then
to avoid such
soured ends.
©
11/26/20
Bunny &
Mavia Villaire
Untitled
The tongue that slips, and
tumbles down
like pebbles dashed
upon a grave...
The tongue that takes a slow
nose-dive,
and puts it's foot before
Form Thought
inflated where
the mind knows naught...
A deviled tongue!...
This forked intent!...
A two-way mirror now
long spent...
Tongue takes backseat...
She loses rank...
Descends high staircase...
Walks off the plank
into a nameless
ether realm.
...Taking a powder!...
Sweeten fixed deal...
Find the loose menace
'twixt lips now sealed...
And when you've learned
just where we sit,
shake off false shackles...
Rinse out the spit.
©
8/9/20
Bunny Villaire
Finding Footing
Up high, from tree to tree
like Tarzan,
on a rope that someone
torched...
Are we swinging into death?...
...Burning hedges
'til all evidence is gone...
Wise minds from the abyss
are swallowed up
like a Hershey Kiss.
I see a boy mopping a blackboard
Long before the words are taught,
and absorbed through hungry pores...
...Loading bullets in our slots.
Are we plunging into peril?...
Is the concrete parking lot
like a jungle
that we're lost in?...
Has our sweetness gone to rot...
...Left too long on careless
windows?...
Feeling something's been misplaced...
I am standing,
arms akimbo,
staring down at rising
waste,
while the bleeding hearts
attest that
they are slaving through
the night
to avenge, and free our planet...
unshackling us from our plight.
There's only now, as future comes
too late to make a change...
Despite the fears we hold inside,
we all must lift the page,
and dive into this living fire;
each day times set our stage.
©
7/24/20
Bunny Villaire
Screens
I sat in the solar ambience of
my wicked room
peering at a foreign life,
Her sapphire eyes poured
onto my impatient skin,
tingling with aching aspirations-
Just a glimpse,
just a glance
and love vanished:
To the void Cupid shoots.
I could not think of death
when I awoke in the starry
fields of mania and bliss.
Ravenous beasts erupted from
unburdened chambers of
induced heroics,
Sneaking turquoise veins conquered
crumbling stone walls imbued
with Good and Evil beyond...
Eden in the
eyes of dreamers.
Eternity on the
dainty fingers of time,
Her void touch
paralyzed my arctic breath
instantaneously.
Elements stripped of life
by an insatiable black hole
of scolding,frigid bliss.
In intimate instances...
I interact with the
bruises in my
tortured temple...
My empire of sanity.
I live life through screens,
love and loss in separate acts,
pausing and playing mishaps.
Hours are episodes,
titles display pain.
Her soft presence
was enough for now.
Have You Been Briefed?...
Have you been briefed?...
These streets beneath you
that secrete phantoms
keep you up on your toes...
You're hedged in a deserted park
with a question mark that screams...
...Up there on the tip of that
Civil War statue's rifled musket
that is pointed at a soldier undisclosed
you sense a whiff of deceit
that is pungent and perverse...
Have you been briefed,
or are you well versed
in the vocabulary
of cognizance?...
Night returns for feeding,
and you're back in the belly
of your home...
The shade of your existence
stains the creases of some chair,
and your astounded
for a few moments,
while a chime goes off somewhere,
as you'd consigned to oblivion
the weight of who you were,
so you rush outside
to vanish, and
be swallowed
by the black.
Have you been briefed?...
Your knowledge or lack of knowledge
shifts in and out like light...
May tomorrow be more bright!...
It's a game where rules are tossed.
Have you been briefed?...
...Or is the cost
factored in to your release?...
Behind your back
the closet creaks,
and your out the door again.
©
7/8/20
Bunny Villaire
COVID-19 and Faith
By the time Isabella Garcia gets home, she has already washed and sanitized her hands dozens upon dozens of times. She does this because she is a medical supervisor for a company by the Same’s Auto Arena. Ms. Garcia explains, "I have to be highly precautious. The virus is very aggressive. You can't be certain if you've had contact with it or not, and I am more at risk because I have to be in contact with medical personnel and patients." However, her health is not the driving factor for her cautious behavior. Her daughter is.
If you want to know more about Ms. Garcia here is a link to the rest of the article:
https://tbcltx.com/covid-19-and-faith/
Trial of Tryin’
Tryin’
I’m really tryin’...
To kick the crime,
and the habit of the crime...
There’s a tick burrowed
in these fabrics
of my own design,
but I’m tryin’...
to kick that evil
to the back of the long line...
Sweat wells on my
forehead
from this instrumental heat...
Feel the thousand lashes leapin’,
as I drag ass
to the street...
...It’s all just my sweet burden,
and it takes up
all my time,
killing all earthly ambitions
flying outwards
on my climb...
...Watch cars crash/
women screech 'n scream
(It's like I'm in a haze)
against the shining underpass
of avarice that weighs...
I’ll dance among
the sainted shacks
until the roof falls
on my ears...
I'll dance until
I'm on our backs,
and prodded with
your spears...
Tryin’...
Yes, I’m tryin’,
in a plain-clothes kind of garb
to shift far from countless miseries
though it’s gets so goddamned hard...
...And you hate to see a pattern
where there ain’t one sprig o' vice...
...Then the vice comes back
to dress you
like a theif that’s stained
your night...
″...When to brake, now?...
What to try?...”
It comes so slowly
to reply...
Tryin’ ’til my flame
burns out,
and then I
tumble to your floor...
...Dyin’ like a fish
in drought
of water on your shore...
I’m really tryin’,
’til I
can try not...
...This notion shakes me
from my spot...
Because it’s then that I can
Kick old griefs...
...My trial of tryin’
gifts me
with reprieve.
Tryin’
I’m really tryin’...
To kick the crime,
and the habit of the crime...
There’s a tick burrowed
in these fabrics
of my own design,
but I’m tryin’...
to kick that evil
to the back of the long line...
©
7/4/20
Bunny Villaire
Edit #3
Hello!
Hello to everyone I specifically tagged and all of the prose. I got a job as a content writer for a small newspaper company in my hometown. I felt too weird sharing this right away because I have a lot of doubts about my work, but right now, I feel like I need honest feedback on the pieces.
I still feel weird posting a link to it like I’m trying to sell something because, on one hand, the articles need the views and clicks. So, I’ve thought also about posting the articles here directly. So, What do you guys think? Should I post the articles or do you feel okay about going to the website through the link?
Thank you for your thoughts! I’d greatly appreciate any feedback or comments!
introduction
well, hello, anyone who reads this, im new to Prose. and I would like to ask for any suggestions on who i can follow? thank you so much!
Is it Our Time, Or Prime Time?
The announcer feigns heart,
but he's glib as they come...
...Manufactured for rabble
who sit on their hands...
We are many!...
Beaks open,
and shutting at will...
Push buttons,
as suddenly
birds raise their heads...
Is it our time, or
Prime time?...
...don't worry yourself!...
You've been waiting,
forsaken,
up on that galley shelf
while the boat bides it's time
'til the sky builds a frame...
Is it our time, or
Prime time?...
Are they one in
the same?...
We can view our tormentors
with one jaundiced eye...
...though the hand at our back
combs the bowls they left out...
Are we bitter,
or chafed
by this supervised pain?...
I've been duped
by the finest
with charisma and stealth...
Is it our time, or
Prime time?...
...don't worry yourself!...
You've been waiting,
forsaken,
up on that galley shelf
while the boat bides it's time
'til the sky builds a frame...
Is it our time, or
Prime time?...
Are they one in
the same?...
©
5/19/20
Bunny Villaire