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Post by luthien on Oct 19, 2008 16:35:51 GMT -1
Cool morning air spills through the curtains drifting... like mindless wraiths. They brush upon the nights now distant tirade of empty glasses and brimming ashtray.
All sentiments loll in the last dregs; the heated passion now cooling in the debris by the bed. Gently rain patters a rhyme on the trees outside; and something listless, waits; somewhere between the cotton and the chill.
The mind still numbed drifts through torpid pools. Ripples extend over their silent depths evoking secluded musings; melodies tunes fusing with the flesh, a quixotic blend an intoxicated death.
Such opulence and splendour, fills my heart such a baneful cup I’ve kissed, but temperance was sleeping while the soul endured this bliss. As morning rises consciousness struggles to find its spectrum, the hearts perfection; a mechanism to close its cellar door, this hotel california this Avalon, with its glistening shore.
Luthien08
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Post by megli on Oct 19, 2008 17:04:05 GMT -1
That's one of the most original 'pagan' poems I've ever read. Whiff of Ani DiFranco there ;0
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Post by arth_frown on Oct 19, 2008 17:28:02 GMT -1
Genius!
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Post by luthien on Oct 20, 2008 10:45:13 GMT -1
Thanks for your kind responses! I didn’t know who Ani DiFranco was until I just googled her! And yes I see some similarity there! Thanks for that.
B
Luthien
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