Bejeweled goddess

           whispers falsehoods

           dancing alone

           in pale moonlight of deceit.

Shadowed illusion

           of smoke and mirrors

           wields manipulation

           through diamond cut lenses.

Stars of dark sparkled skies

           reflect facets of evil therein.

           Desperate cry for help

           dazzles jeweled bark thoughts.

Clarity of diamond shape

           broken without worth

           it's all that’s left – a diamond

           in the rough cutting away.

Wanderlust of dreams

           sequences intoxicated by

           her imperfections.

           stone cold and crooked.

Twisted darkness

           lit by fake gleam of clarity

           prisms lighting the truth

           then collapsing in paste.

My hands quake

           with wavering strokes

           senseless seduction

           of hostile spirits.

Her mission to destroy

           flickers from a barren zone

           an ambiguity within artifice

            deceives and seduces -

            a pebble strewn path.

Dark destiny

            hidden under cloak

            a princess cut gem

            manipulating illusions.

My twisted reflection –

           one last mad glimmer

           under cobalt sky eyes

           jewel encrusted pain.

There are diverse means available in solving a problem 

Some are obvious, easy and sensitive 

Some are impervious, tricky and repetitive 

Tinkering with agitation, warmth pacific in determination 

Time metamorphosize action into reaction 

The Disney land of all unknown equations 

Is derived 

By

Intellectual expressions 

There are many ways probable, in winning a persons heart

Some ways are genuine and accidental 

Some are orchestrated and pretentious 

Tinkering with agitation

Warmth pacific in temptation 

Time metamorphosize feelings into obsession 

The garden of Eden of all fragile emotions 

Is bitten 

by

Vain attraction 

Her name a chocolate, Mitzi Blue

Mice tormenting her favourite game

Cat-tree nest provides a good view

Cuddle stroking is her claim

Preparing to be caressed

Curling into a pose

Somebody is coming

Suddenly sticks up her nose

Twisting into a contorted ball

Meowing in a human way

Can’t miss her irresistible call

Trapped by her delicate sway

So all you cat lovers

Pay heed to what I say

Ignore manipulative cats

Or they will rule your way

        The pianist manipulates the piano. The drummer manipulates the drum. The trumpeter manipulates the trumpet. The cellist manipulates the cello. The violinist manipulates the violin. The flutist manipulates the flute. The harpist manipulates the harp. The conductor manipulates the harpist and the flutist and the violinist and the cellist and the trumpeter and the drummer and the pianist. The audience manipulates the conductor. And the song manipulates the audience. 

        All those hands, waving and pressing and clapping, symbiotically, simultaneously manipulating each other, plainly and mainly manifesting manual magnificence and all her manifolds - maniacal magic mandating more and more and more mana until the desirable hand is played...

Twisted to perfection,

Contorted to your carbon copy quintessential,

Indoctrinated under your influence,

You recreated me.

I am now your contortionist.

And I will bend until I am beautiful.

I will distort until I am your definition of desire.

I will mangle every mutated part of me

To fit your darkening dreams.

My master of manipulation.

You convinced me to bind myself

So you could control my strings.

I had a Vodka Cranberry last night.

It told me I could dance.

When my flailing arms made me look like a joke,

I went and grabbed a Rum and Coke.

The rum said I'd get a special surprise,

if I quickly downed a Tequila Sunrise.

Tequila said I need someone to adore me,

So I found some courage in a Dark 'N' Stormy

The flaming shots promised to make me cool.

After several of them, I skinny dipped in the pool.

What at the time I thought was celebration,

now I can see clearly.

It was alcohol's manipulation.

Burn

Was the

Echo

In my

Head

Burn

Was

What

the Board

Had

Said

Burn

was What

the Candles

Did

As

the Room

Was Set

a Light

Burn

Is What

She Said

As She

Melted

In

the Night

Burn

Is What

the House

Did

All

In Flames

Burn

Is How

the Memory

Remains

–

Burn

Was

the Baby

In

It’s Bed,

Burn

I Would

Rather,

Than Not

Be Dead

–

Burn

Is

the Planchette

In

my Hand,

Burn

I Know

I Must

Be Damned

#B27321

new day, tired foot, back, wack on the treadmill

stale goals, the same-ol', just had my fucking fill,

should the thought of death really fill me with dread,

or is it easier said, no breath, savaged head, misled

getting wise to the shit, hard to compromise it

those that count, real deal, over-empathised shit

family and friends, gather round now, welcome

shill me the reality, sad sack shit don't sell some

transparent promises, obvious manipulations

got me reading subtext in all you say, son

so back off, reverse, quit your bollocks hot air

your empty words as real as fake Trump hair

Every subtle smile,

Every warm "hello,"

Every soft, tender touch,

You opened up another door,

Getting closer to my guarded heart.

You made lies sound so beautiful,

Pretty, toxic words, knotted in my heart,

My name was a butterfly on your lips,

Home was your safe embrace,

It never felt like a cage.

You whispered wonderful words,

Wove them in my mind,

I followed every light suggestion,

The world would be a better place,

It was fate, you said,

Fate is a cruel, deadly, monster.

I became something more,

Something less,

An assassin under your control,

Your broken, mended weapon,

Lost and found,

Never looking for a way out.

It was a heavenly game,

A love out of books,

Until reality came,

And took out your hooks,

I saw the hell behind your illusion,

But the light arrived too late...

A parent leaning slowly over the shoulder of their toddler: “Sweetie, please, let’s just go home now… We will be back tomorrow. Mr. Teddy is waiting for us at home, he is lonely…”

“Nn.. No”

“Look, how about this, we are coming back tomorrow morning first hour, and play some more, OK? Now the sun is setting, and you know what that means, right? We need to put Mr. Teddy to bed!”

A slow step forward, and then back.

“No”

“Look, there is no one left here. All the nice children are in bed and they are waiting for…”

“NO”

“Sweetie…”

“NO! NO! NO!”

“OK, how about this? We go home now and I’ll let you watch an episode of your favourite cartoons! Deal?”

A reluctant “A-huh” afterwards, they are slowly driving towards home. Baby steps.

Moral of the story: Who got what they wanted?