AshlockGrey

Snow Queen; I. Nix The snow queen holds a heavy fate, Her curse is in the breeze, Her whispers twist and crack in wait, And break the life-stone seas. A creaking shakes the mountain, The blizzard fires swirl, As seeking shackled spirits turn, The cold colours curl. In lacunae missing shards of grey The whisper white can creep, A Crick in the neck of her DNA, Where crying crystals weep. Far bellow, farrowed, forest, Her memory's canapé,   Starting by a stream, for rest; A Whisper-Rose bouquet. Water-worn down-river Weight, love locked in her hair, In a flower-thorn crown to quiver, Whisper; Roses Snare. Magic lies, and dye

The Little Town Tower; Time just droops and hurdle-loops, Mime unjust stoops, curdle-jupes are Lime citrus groups of fur-dull hoops of Dime shaped dull-full pigeon coops... Grey stones, flaxen moans, The life wanes, drops, hops drones, The candle saps of handle wax A magnet flaps and light condones. A futile bloated call of a squawk is Blurted, facade faces talk, A gaping mumbling babble fork Follows every stumbling walk through Life which they so callously bend To prideful, hateful lazy end. I cannot make no sense, no friend, Of words so horribly dashed on rocks they send My way, my say, is hacked and burned, It can

Vitriol; I drown these memories,   As they sink into the fade Dead, jaded, enemies, Their blades a swaying glade. A mild mist of morning, Amidst the dawning part Of the callow, caught, shallow thought, Reverberated heart. I cannot soothe the hurt, I do not have the leisure To dip in lonely company, flirt As is your healing pleasure. Feel the running cool Of the guilty ease you steal, Heal in the solid pool The narcotics you feel. The dead tree sap is running Down the bark of reality, Carrying the candid cunning Cain of mortality. Bleak is the doorway, As the light breaks in this dark, I call, I crawl, I stow away, And the sky

Pyre; The flames above begat Of the fire born below, The Demon in her haven cell Is drawn by heaven glow. Her kisses are the chains she serves, Lips, desires drink, Yet this metal hammers hurt And tightens, teeth sink. Prisoner to the chains forged Deep, deep, deep inside The hot, heathen, heaving mind, The numbing cull of pride. Enamoured is this steel In love, with pure surrender, Self-worthless, without validation, It makes existence tender. The Demon writhes; use is worth, The past carved in her skin. She finds the soothing thaw of steam A feeling so akin To a sensation which she once knew When in cosmos she would glide... And

Snow Queen; II. Lux The bright and clear to her is bliss, Wearing propriety, The suitors dance and colours kiss, The Dress of society. And yet above the landing stair She glides to sleep despite The welcome company in flare, To claim some calm, respite. Her dreams paint in the ceilings, walls With shadows, as she feels So many tossing, turning falls, The shades are flicker-reels. As lux of lashes banish dark, A blush is called to quaff, When staring strangers love and lark Shall burn her cold wrath. Further down the furtive drawn, Amber-dawn path, The leaves blow, slow, flying... Then are torn, As a rope bites Burns around

Neverdeath Who walks and breathes as cold as stone? And holds us to behold, alone? Solid and, releasing doubt, Crafts what we can't live without? Always searching for affection, Mislaying all recollection, We've spoken to them, through the ice, The charms that seek what sights entice. The Horsemen cleave and slash in vain, They ride out, again, through mist they exclaim, To fate they shout, in a destiny Storm: “What do we hate!? What do we mourn!?” Though Famine and Pestilence are both void Of knowing desire, they have toyed: With Gluttony, hunger is at loss, As will to fight is stolen by Sloth. Conquest wants to claim an

Lunar Heart: A waning setting sun Is turning in this sky. What grazing lips dread to become And mourn a long goodbye. I can see a pleading twinkle of a tear in her eye… Weeping beauty waves answer, As yearning turns to pale, Horizons paint an old picture; A ship that I must sail. I can feel the falling snowflakes of the solar wind-cast gale… Breeze-soft day lays down a ray, As hope moves a stroke that soothes And stoops to raise a lonely grey, To stay and play with after-noon’. I can hear the distant canter of apocalyptic hooves… Lost and found, quaking too strong, As a piece of sound, misplacing, That erythemat

Lonely Leading Ladies: Lonely leading ladies Are like angels cast from grace, Like diamonds in a jewel box, Out of their proper place. From the strong charm of their walk To the silk waves of their hair, The spin-wheel lips, when they talk, Outline their ice-cold glare. How many hidden sorrows, Veiled in their gaze? How many tomorrows, Drowning, dreaming in to daze? How long will they search For a path out of the maze Of capricious self-harm hurt Of their gracious loving ways? It's natural, from past, For them to blush so pale, A lingering collateral cast From heavy screaming hail. Stone is the feeling  Of a let-down, betrayed hand, On

Crystal Snow: What do they know, and where do they go? Who are these people, all draped in Snow? What do they feel? What do they do? With death do they deal, and with fate too? Hallways of blue, hallways of white, Doorways of truth, ceilings of light, Symmetrical rooms, hiding the fright, Obscuring the pain, and souls that just might Be found, following theft from sight, Stricken, yet numb, cured of their blight. For despite all the speech that we do not know, And dread that we weep, in their chambers, they sow,  And break, yes, bend, yet patch and mend,  For we shall not see what spirits they send Back to the living, lifting the curs

I Shalt Paint a Picture: A portrait of myself I was told to paint today. If I am to forfeit, who I am, Then tell me; what to say? Shall I divulge? To speak of what I’ve done? Or am I to search, To seek what I’ve become? Perhaps you think I’ll just find some Lost, long mislaid fortune? Appease your will, would I, if I sung A song she sang this autumn? A portrait of myself, I fear I’ll draw it crooked, For if in me I am to delve, I’ll find a world that’s shifted Through penumbrae’s chasms, up dark towers, I felt the earth’s cruel shocks, Transverse oceans hard to fathom, Dragged down so many