Nwold

A tale foretold and remembered, Of flight and gold tipped feathers. Across the East these words have murmured, Have glided over peaks and over tree tops hovered. Have settled in hearths whenever summoned, Then bed farewell as Helios neared. Of dreams and myth this tale has been servant, Yet master of both; it's allure is like no other. The magic of replenished life, Resurrection- immortality- Rebirth from the bones of lifeless life. This tale I tell, in parts of four- From Cape, Cairo, Aryana, Rome, Hong Kong, Bangalore. A rich enfolding nighttime affair, The story of the worlds most imaginative beauty.

Untitled #12 Dancing on the green-green grass- Apple green. To be exact. Doused in tartar sauce, Magenta slurps across the tap, That spills the bright red liquid - Splash and gurgle - This tap unleashes, Quenching thirst of Gangrene floor and its own breeches. Fold and crumble; source of sauce stumbles, Down tap goes, its abundance consumed by the grass, Greedy green-green grass. Dancing on the wet, stained grass, Laughing as the earth inhales, Sauce and tap, Blood and body, Life unstrapped. Flailing hand of dancer embraces - Cold hard steele, Dipped in warmth, Stolen heat, Blood of body, Life unleashed. Dancing on the sullen bed, Sullied by a deadmans greed. Crying as the pain resists - Does not recede, It does persist, Does not give in, To the contagious euphoria of vengence. Emptied by ravenous tears, Your howls have left you, raw throated and sallow. Now, just as the one you retired, You lay emptied, e...