[x]

LighthouseMy beacon light sweeps the horizon,
Illuminating the waves.
Crashing on the knifing rocks.
Vanst and endless ocean,
majestic yet deadly,

my breathing rises
and falls with the waves.

The sea sighs,

she's as lonely as me.

She's vast, dark velvet, blue
and I jutting white,
protruding from her shores,
admidst deadly teeth.

Again my light sweeps across her surface.

Picking out each crestfallen wave
as they dive down to the sorry shipwrecks.

Every night I hear their creaking frames

crying with loss

and I'm filled with sorrow.

The clouds clear and the sea she mirrors the sky,
each star duplicated on her shimmering skin.

The mo

Wreckage

Is there a place where shipwrecks die?
Where they disintegrate into the sands
down into nothing and the shifting tides of time?

For this is where you'll find me.
Amongst the wreckage of time,
slowly rotting from inside out.

Once proud, I sailed lifes seas.
I beat the unforgiving tides of sorrow.
I rendered the waves to my will.
But I hit the rocks of uncertainty,
And now I become the wreckage;

With insatiable hunger tearing me from inside out,
I'm gutted by poseidons unrelenting fury.
The hooves of his steeds batter my shell,
as all that was me is washed away.

My structure, slowly falling apart.
My driving sails in shreds and

Her Song of Life

I move like a leaf along the current of the world
as I listen to the song of life sung in the laughter of this girl;
so much more than woman, she is goddess; she is whole-
her every word is etched into the fabric of my soul
as if my existential entity is a notebook for the lyrics
I derive from all she confides within me; and when I see
the ocean that resides in her eyes, I want to cry
because they're nothing short of Heaven personified (albeit simplified).

Her vocalized colloquial evocations of emotional
process are honestly cautious-
and I don't blame her, because
anyone with the power to move the heart of life
within their voice

Leaves of Glass

The sky is October blue,
but still not deep enough to match your eyes,
and the sun not bright enough
to warm my heart.

Cold winter winds wait to blow,
but for now all is fire.
Sunset colors on every tree,
floating in the air to land around me-
like the flowers that fell in our hair
last spring.

Petals so soft, they felt like white feathers,
and you picked every one out of my braid-
but I think you only bothered
so you could get close enough to steal those kisses.

As if you needed an excuse.

I have rainbow fragments in my hair now too,
but you're not here to take them out-
and it seems like the trees can feel my sorrow.
So

Over again.And there it is, as if I needed the proof
that you're the one, THE one, the hallowed
sacred, unfounded, near-impossible
should-be-kept-in-a-reliquary one.

I tumble over the edge, over again
into your endless eyes and flawless skin
tell me again that you're beautiful just for me
tell me again that it's because I love you

This is an end-of-the-movie type feeling
with the climatic music, roaring into a crescendo
and me and you, we've beaten the bad guys
we've saved the world babe...

And to some sort of grandiose finalé of explosions,
roaring, epic music and the lighting up of the cinema
I fold you into my arms and you look up

VellumTo write love on her arms,
a mark of ownership.
You "belong" to me.

A scripture enwraps her body
after a given time,
they begin to form
the scribe and his parchment.

The vellum
smiles as
she reads
herself,
the first
paragraph
scrolling
down her
left
forearm.

Her palm, a few lines of code,
in a language she knows.

A

short

five

words

are

Written on each finger.

A swirl of script returns to her shoulder

across her back an epic,
down to the place where he always rests his hand.

The small warm soft place,
on her hip that's responsive
is where the haiku goes.

Words tickle up her side and across her lower rib

PedestalCan you ever love me again?

...And then there was no sound,
but the thunderous breaking of a heart.

Then silver, pure silver silence,
as icy tears spill from the eyes of a statue.
See how the perceived immortal weeps
for the love of a girl who's since become a woman.

The stone dais trembles
the statue crumbles to it's knees.
Look how the mighty have toppled,
for the love of a light-hearted girl.

A single, barely noticeable hairline crack
adorns the chest of the stone figure
And on the pedestal, the stone tablet beneath,
these words are inlaid.

Go now, my shining light!
Take my stone strength
and my soft heart.
Take it on

Something like thisIt's something like this,
when I throw lines of rope
made from written words,
lines of hope
to people like them,
who think everything
and everyone
will never love them
in any way other than
to leave.

Here, you're not drowning
see the rope around you
that I threw?
Just take hold,
with your cold, frigid hands
and haul yourself up on my decks,
I'll sail you ashore,
without so much of a want,
but to see you safe.

whereupon you enlighten me,
I shall not want,
I shall not wan,
pale under your leaving complexion,
I set a-sail once again,
for another, just like you.

What once was I.Defeated and alone, I sit here with a grin on my face.
My mail rattles as I shift, aches and pains of defeat shown
strongly on my face.
Heh.
What once was I, a serving son of a warlord.
Now the lone, left of a battle worthy horde.
All the stools are empty,
there's where Bors would sit,
Ragnar, Erik, Sigurd...
All gone to the high Valhall,
brothers, friends, warriors all.
Gone.
I lean back against the wall,
the golden light of morning seeps in
through the slatted window.
My eyes protest, the light that blinds.

A rememberance of the battle comes to me,
we stood atop the hill,
they, our enemy, below.
The command was given,

I wish I had a balcony.I wish I had a balcony made of stone,
somewhere that juts out beneath my windows,
somewhere I could stand in the lashing rain,
stare up at the sky with raindrop-tears
running in rivulets down my face and dripping from my nose.

I could smoke there, write there, just be there,
be silent and listen to the world there,
the pouring of the rain, or the beating of the sun.

You know, it could be a place we could stand together,
I don't imagine it to be a big balcony, nor a fancy one.
Just a plain stone one, just big enough for one chair
or two standing.

Hey, it could be a scene from a Shakespeare or something
of the like.
Not that I'm

Keep you warmI remember the days when you were happy,
when you used to smile
and your eyes were full of bright lights.

Now I barely see you, I love you from afar
from behind a screen, from far away.

Six degrees of seperation,
of latitude and longitude,
you're still so far away.

You leapt into my arms, once,
kissed my face
and refused to let me put you down.

You told me that you loved me,
you still tell me that you love me,
just it rings tiredly now,
like you've gone from carefree
and a vivacious love of life
to sullen and despairing.

Unsettled, I suppose it is,
you haven't rooted anywhere for long enough.

You need stability
I though

Pagan angel. -edit... Again-Across my corn-yellow sheets of warm cotton,
upon my nothing fancy kind of bed,
she grins and splays herself out.

Her wings unseen, beneath her gleaming body
and every little tuck & fold of her sleek skin.

She says it's more comfortable on my rickety bed,
that it's nicer than hers- and bigger too.

She likes it because it smells like me,
least, that's what she tells me.

Invitingly, she smiles to me and beckons with a long-fingered hand
a momentary hesitation, she pouts at me because she knows I'm teasing.

I slip across the expanse between us, between my pagan angel
and me.

It must be awkward for her to get tops that fit around he

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Snapshot

Just A Happy second,

Snapshot.

Two young lovers
kissing by the riverside,

The night you pulled me off that bench,
On to you.

Lying beside you,

Feeling you against me.

Those eyes I dived into time after time.

The smell of cheap cigarettes.

The taste of cheap vodka
and you on my lips.

The hours spent watching,
The stars,

The moon,

Nothing.

The sound of the distant river

And of dry grass underfoot,

Beneath those boots of mine you loved

And you're wearing 'that' Dress.

The nights being drunk enough to dance.

Laughter, yours,

As I'd drag you to the dancefloor.

Those long goodbyes.

Those phrases you used.
(sky tree)

The

Aint

Take a step back from where you thought you were happy.
Take a look back for once
Open thoses big blue eyes boy,
Realise what they feel.
You aint special,
You aint nothin.
you're just a convenience,
Someone to talk to when theres no-one else.
yeah get used to it,
you're used
And you know it.
Hey they dont care
and again you know it,
But you know you dont want to believe it.
you believed they were your friends.
Ha! door mat
Get used to it,
You know it happens all the time.
Yeah and all the lies they feed you.
Come off it,
You know nothin aint free.

A Limerick for a friendThere once was a fellow named Tarma,
Who won, in a bet, a Llama.

He took it to race,
And it won first place!

Oh boy how that boy loved his Llama!

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The River

by ~CaptainOzz, Sep 4, 2005, 3:24:06 PM
Literature / Poetry / Horror / Free Verse

And I knew you'd be your own destroyer.
Your life was wasted like a running river,
flowing deep, passing me.
I never thought you'd make it,
As I carry whats left of you home again,
The river flows on.

Winter creeps behind us,
and I long to hold your hand again.
To see your skin come alive with my touch,
Like it used to.
But now what's left of your loving heart,
and shreds of forearms,
so limp and cold.

Destination: the river,
where we swore so many things,
in our iron-shod paradise.
The words in their thousands,
Passed through those bars.
As I sat high and you sat low.

Laughter echoed through the iron.
Cries died down into the silt.
The river saw its share of us too,
splashing happily.

Now its still,
now its cold,
like you've become.

It only seemed fair,
To bring you back to where you were happy once.
Or were you really happy with me?
Or was it all a facade?
i dont want to know,
and I never will.

The Riverby ~CaptainOzz

Literature / Poetry / Horror / Free Verse

I wrote this after listening to "St Lawrence river" by David Usher
(if you've never heard of him you NEED him the most amazing canadian singer/songwriter EVER!)

Its a litle well grim really but I enjoyed writing it!

~l0stwhispers Dec 12, 2005 Hobbyist Writer

That's so touching... I love this. No rhyme, but it's perfectly alright. You made it flow real well.

Great piece!

~Sylvanashala Sep 6, 2005 Hobbyist General Artist

another piece to add to my collection.....

I really really enjoyed reading this piece. Just immersing myself into it letting my spirit float upon your words.

I just may have to find out more about your inspiration for this piece.....

~CaptainOzz Sep 7, 2005

ah! it was an old favourite place of mine... somewhat of a hide-a-way i'll get some pictures and send them to you... the place itsself is on the river ouse between york and selby at my little village called Bishopthorpe!

But i suspect there will be pictures of the place online somewhere...

~Sylvanashala Sep 7, 2005 Hobbyist General Artist

i'd love to see it!

~AndyRidae Sep 6, 2005

depressing, typical ben.

good one though.

~CaptainOzz Sep 7, 2005

Hehe you know me too well!

~AndyRidae Sep 8, 2005

it seems like it

~nevergetfooledagain Sep 6, 2005 Hobbyist Digital Artist

It's beautiful, Ozz...one of the best you've ever written! Way to go, love...

~CaptainOzz Sep 7, 2005

aww thanks hun! oddly enough i like it too...

~Mysterria Sep 5, 2005 Writer

There are several precious things I can take with me from reading this. Thank you!

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The River

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