Ladies do Count…a lot

A lady lives by numbers because
she wants to be petite,
She keeps on counting calories
hoping men fall at her feet.

When a shoes too small,
she’ll still make it fit.
Says there's no pain at all,
through teeth she must grit.

If a dress is loose the smile
never leaves her face,
though it looks like a tent
she’ll wear it with grace.

The material will stretch,
the pins all go pinging.
She’ll either feel like a wretch,
or off she’ll go singing.

Somewhere in the album of memories,
I keep the stories of a broken heart.
When the old love is betrayed, fades or dies,
it feels like my soul is torn apart

But patience and wisdom whisper to me
a promise I have always longed to hear,
that the dream of true love will never be
a lost cause i'll bear through my living years

As long as faith embraces true courage,
hope will be the flower blossomed anew
for those who really believe it exist,
passion will find a way, love will come true

It's in the tingle
of a hot ginger toddy
that turns me on
when my body
needs some fire

or

it's in the tingle
of a hot ginger 'body'
that turns me on
when my totty
needs some fire

Candy apple red
dripping across hell's ashes.
Bruises forming, purple and black.
Cigarettes burning, blistering
across her back.

The beast had done it again....

From upon the ledge
Storyteller sat in angst.
Watching his Marietta
who was losing the fight.
His stone heart broken
sinking deep within his chest.

He could end it with just one bite....

Her story was sad
she had believed in someone with a past.
There were those who warned against,
said it wouldn't last.

The Wolf

Standing still…
ears cocked forward
listening watching anticipating.
Large head teeth mane.
Powerful beautiful.
Creeping forward determination.
Eyes locked.
Legs moving in silence
holding up a lean body.
Grey white camouflage.
Unseen unheard in motion.
Almost there…
discovered!
Rapid heartbeat
chasing overcoming it’s prey.
Silence...
Grey white red.

By: Sharon Jones

in the spirit
of two mud siblings
black face was white
white face was soot
therefore the straw thaw

minerals of transmutation
complex nonentity
convex into wreck
dispirit eyes
Ewing of the bulrushes
the birds jargon

And what of the night, Titian?
What of the night?
It is all I have now, Titian.
It is my only light.

By moon and star I see.
In absence I see greater.
In torch and candle, hearth is he
who changed me for the better.

But what of night Titian?
What of the weary night?
Such webs imprudent spun!
I begged.

He laughed.
I never thought the change would hurt so much.
Ah, wicked was the whoreson’s touch.
He laughed.

paperwork paper
hang on to documents
lose documents

without them you dont exist
progress
and yet

treasures bus slips
needless things
catch up

Spirited away into a void,
suspended in nothingness.

Moving pictures
of life flash by,
momentous moments
pause in transit,
allowing one
last celebration
of remembrance.

Instances of sorrow
smear sight,
the wretchedness tears
new holes in regret,
stamping days
that cross the soul
with melancholy.

Closing the shutters
of consciousness,
slipping into the
divine form,
swimming through
the dying river,
finally letting go

Arise my dark children!
Kiss your slumber goodbye.
The night has returned,
let us soar across the sky!

See how mortals tremble,
their fears so fresh and alive.
Some will be our slaves,
others will scream as they die

Hunt down the faithless,
the weakest prey of them all.
The unrepentant sinners
won't escape their fall

The virgins' blood will be
so sweet on your lips
you'll drown in ecstasy
with every droplet you sip