Undercrimsonmoon

The Karma

Ricardo Smith — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 20:02:32 +0000

You’re an enemy, a fool, a victim of your own disaster
Acting upon people that tell you that “Life is free”
Free from what?
Free from happiness? Free from laughter?
Free from the positive things that keep the world spinning?
Your eyes pummel those that need saving
The ones holding out their hands in a soft plea for restoration
These eyes glare into the eyes of others, so aggressively, like a shoe stomping a rose field
Or like acid, burning and shedding through an already aching body
With screams louder than party music and smiles
Leaving a red ink foundation smothered across the flesh that covers the bones of your hands
I place the hate and rage inside my eyes to my dear friend, karma
Because my soul is calm
And I don’t want to be left with the burden…
Of carrying the blood, sweat and tears you stole from others

The Great Apparition

Ricardo Smith — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 14:40:09 +0000

I hear you speaking of ambition
But I see nothing but DEAD
DEAD carcuss…
DEAD eyes…
DEAD motivations
Your fingers snap
And you rejoice…
A tank of anger…
Exploding at the pulse of your so-called lack of opportunities
Lack of given direction
Lack of attention
But did your heart melt at others?
Did you help them?
Nurture them?
Support their fixated passions?
You failed to touch, to feel and to connect with those that needed you
Why should we help you? Be there for you?
Why should we shed tears that carry your own dreams and ambitions?
We won’t, we don’t want to…
We want to burn down your house …
Where memories are kept …
…And memories are destroyed

The Hawk

Ricardo Smith — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 14:18:39 +0000

You tell tales
Like a wrinkled frail old man
But one who turned his back on history
Muttering, squeezing words into ears
Like a vicious viper, injecting venom into one
Slithering away…after the deed is done
Your tales are like a ritual, you chant out unsound words
Hoping to give yourself some graces
But your desires aren’t aligned with a balance of fortunes…between you and others
But only the good of you.
It’s just that it’s different…
You’re the Snake…I’m the Hawk
I elevate, I show myself and my eyes have the perfect perspective…of finding truth

Hell In Havana

Lauren Cowell — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 22:01:23 +0000

Havana, Havana, oh hellish Havana.
Stale air, dingy lighting.
Darkness constricting. Abusive setting.
Violent
undertones.
Blood red – crimson.
Calavera scars etch a claret smile.
Darkness. Grime. Grit. Crime.
Poison flashing glasses smashing.
Reggaeton beats, full of heat.
Grinding to the pulse of Latino.

The Fashion Of Insanity

Lauren Cowell — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 14:30:39 +0000

Birds nest for hair & manic smile.

Cascading thoughts Liquid feelings Melted promises and falling ceilings.

Sociopath is so in right now, darling.

A Room With A View

Lauren Cowell — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 14:11:57 +0000

Furthermore you will find me, peering through the port hole.

The window is no longer a mere window but, a gate way to my hearts desire, an opening into a virtual paradise.

The object of my affection slips out of her uniform, she slaves her day away at a fast food restaurant. Her allure wasted, hidden behind a thick layer of a prejudice and a request for an extra portion of chips.

The huge distance between our lives, mocked by the minute one-way street between our homes.

I see her glances in her mirror, I see the look of dejection when her phone rings and the caller is not me.

Yet, she does not know my face, my life, my soul. She knows nothing, nothing of all the things I wish to share with her.

I long to taste her exuberence, to smell her happiness, to glimpse her soul.

She is aware I’m watching her, she knows she is mine.

She’s my captivation. The first place prize in the race of life.

Haiku

Lauren Cowell — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 13:55:20 +0000

The lick of the lock

Curves of the arch and streaming delights

Emptiness floods the simple mind

Bird Of Metal

Lauren Cowell — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 13:43:43 +0000

Magic carpet sculpted by metallic forces.
Flowing, floating, drifting,
Surfing the waspy winds
A Caress on tough armoured shelling.

Existing within a mirage of impossibility.
Embellished by his trickery of gravity.
Newton’s theory mocked by soaring heights and chemical trails.

Riding on a gust of wind, fighting the breaths of unrelenting pressure.

Freedom of flight in a cloudy crevice.

A Feline Friend

Lauren Cowell — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 13:38:39 +0000

Tail erect, tail savaged
eyes open, one port ravaged
feral tongue and whiskers wild.
Spectral aura skeletal presence.
Snarling gait echoing contempt
a hissing vagabond.
A feline friend.

Sarcophagi Of Finery

Lauren Cowell — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 13:24:23 +0000

Sarcophagi of finery.

Navigating the sarcophagi of finery.

Rich infestation of sequins,

pestal problems, polka dots.

Shoes of deceased, hooves of the dead. Antique brooches, rusted hinges.

Every piece a meptaphor of rejection, unwant

yet it is home, because it’s where you’ve always lived.