Prose...
Your world is inviting,
Reminding me of
Smiles from The Shining.
Your words are alluring,
once inside it all starts stirring.
So many of you here.
The cathedral set to fill.
Fingertips now spill,
the writings on the wall,
now encapsulate us all.
Blood and ink one in the same,
flowing ever freely.
Kings and Queens are crowned here,
Immortality through language,
jewels polished by expression,
Renewed by wisdoms we are shedding.
One could easily be lost here;
Resting in the pages,
our peers have been providing.
A mourning in the world,
ink replaced by tears.
There is evil out there lurking,
feeding off of fears.
An extinction of the heroes,
made worse with passing years.
Empires will surely crumble,
from the weight of our words.
The pen our greatest weapon,
in a dying world.
To all of you my Muses,
We must not stay to play.
A weary world dying,
that may not last another day.
Rise up and stand united.
A darkness needs defeating.
With faith upon the heart,
like a strengthening to our feet,
relentless we go marching,
A flood onto the streets.
Goodbye, comfort of this dwelling.
We've got promises to keep.
Silence Speaks Louder Than Words (story of bullying)
"Freak"
"Geek"
"Lets make her life hell"
She is breaking, cant you tell?
She sits alone lost in her world of creativity.
Trying to ignore her surroundings and all the activity.
She fake a smile trying hard not to cry.
She bites her lip, keeping silent watching as her bullies pass by.
No..she doesnt speak, though she may look fine.
But her soul is broken, but her feelings are confined.
She gets hit, tripped, slapped, by people who are supposed to be friends.
Constantly yelling at her, that she is nothing but trash is the message they send.
But dont worry, she is ok, her head hanging low.
She is great!! Smiling her tears flow.
Look at her skin full of scars from a blade.
Inside a monster was made.
Look at the bruises from people who left their mark.
All because she would ignore their ignorant remark.
Little did they know that her silence was her only friend.
So she decided to be with it...that was the end..
Nightmare On Elmection St.
[Note: This is a work of satire and is not an endorsement of any candidate. I had a nightmare last night, and well - I don't want to be the only one afraid to go back to sleep! So...cheers! PS: Recited to the rhythm of the old nursery rhyme...or a military cadence - whichever floats your boat.]
I woke up from a fevered dream
To a Twitter-lypse of toxic memes
Where goose-stepping candidates
Strutted and preened
And the ghost of Tupac
Was heard to sing:
Hickory-Dickory-Schnell
America's gone to hell
If it votes for Drumpf
It'll burn in a dump
Four Horsemen ride, pellmell
To the
Left
To the
Left
To the
Left
Right
Left
Hickory-Dickory-Swell
What's with the damned emails?
Oh should we trust
This twist in our guts
Sweet Hillary's dealery smells
To the
Right
To the
Right
To the
Right
Left
Right
Hickory-Dickory-Hell
We're jerked from hill to dell
What's left in the box?
A cranky old fox
Who teeters on Death's nell
A writer writes
What writer will
So please
Don't have me killed
You'd rather I chilled
On a far-away hill
Don't grind
My guts
Through
The mill...
What we see
Is not what we get-
What we get
Is not what we want-
What we want
Is not even on the table...
Good morning, America!
-DeRicki
The Sin Like It Is....
Fingers curled around the hem of a shirt, my shirt, as skin brushed skin.
Shivers from the heat of the delicate pads of fingertips, hesitantly caressing the smoothness of another's painted porcelain as if the glass could shatter at a moments notice, just by the warmness of the heavy breaths and the desperation in the air.
Before I could notice, mindless hands moved to hair, lightly yanking an intoxicating sound from addicting lips, awakening a sense of fervency from my tingling toes, up to my clenched thighs, to my throbbing and aching insides, even higher to my pulsing neckline, where sinful marks were placed dangerously down the side of the throat, making me move instinctively closer to the source of my desire.
Those fingers, calling out to my response, skim south over newly freed skin, caressing the smoothness of my feminine curves, melting the minutes of silence with each stroke of passion, every pinch and squeeze, joining the wetness of the tongue in leaving a trail of desire and ecstasy down my body. Moments later, they reach another heat. My breath quickens in a gasp, as heavy eyes land on mine, and coax out an entirely new response from me. My fingernails curve inwards, urging them almost closer, as heated sounds continue to run from my lips, enticing another foreign sound from the other's swollen sinners. Fingertips, lips continue their lapping, sucking, pulling, in a rough pattern, as if this is natural to either one of us. One rough hand slides up the curves, caressing and squeezing, working the flushed skin until no crevice is left untouched. A whine slips as I yank, skin pressing on skin, until a warm wetness touches my face gently, hands still guided below, slipping fingers across the sensitiveness, while there's a pinch in my lower stomach.
Words whispered as suddenly, everything stops, then heats up again to an even higher level. Desperate cries can be heard as a moment of gentle movement, fast then faster, quickened hands touching everything as slick smoothness of skin molds together, rocking and bending as one. The silence is broken by thick breaths, gasps even, as each are brought higher and highest, fingering, grasping the other, clenching and filling in every bit of space with another piece of skin, then suddenly, a pause before squeezing together one more time, matching releases as they relax, joining their fingers, lips, bodies one more time, not quite finished with one another. As if anticipating each others movement, the motions are fluent, effortless, loving. My lips meet their partners in crime, gently this time, but as desperate as if the moments before hadn't happened. One hand tracing the skin, as if it was the first time, so carefully, lightly touching the still trembling sensitiveness, readying it for another bit of heat, stroking its thick smoothness, caressing it again and again, as it twitches beneath my fingertips. Still breathless, my lips move forward, as my eyes meet a pair of smoldering ones...
Questions and answers
Though I am old
Fuddled and grumpy
My mind is versatile
Compressed and elastic
Though I am proud
Haughty and salty
My mouth is cold
Dormant and active
Though I have lost
Challenges and battles
My will is strong
Indomitable and stoic
Though I am broke
Vagrant and hungry
My eyes are fixed
Ever faithful and grateful
Though I am weak
Frustrated and helpless
My smile is rich
Hopeful and endless
Though I am...
Though I...
Though I am nothing
God makes me something