Yours in Eternity,
Tyme and MusikMother of Tyme,Tyme and Musik by ~SecuraLoki
Sometimes confused with Sister of Musik,
Dances with dress of black and of white.
Much like Sister Musik, Mother Tyme makes sound.
Though Sister's sound expansive and Mother's limited
To the tick-tick-tock-tick-tick of minutes passing by.
She hears your sorrows but can only offer
Poor consoling of ticking and tapping.
This is not her fault, but it cannot help.
Sister, on the other hand, can match your sorrows.
In pitch, in rhythm, in sound.
In trumpets, in drums, in voices.
So for every pain, remember:
It is not time that heals all wounds,
Artists of Japan.Sweet bliss.Artists of Japan. by ~SecuraLoki
Through the wind.
Bells upon branches
Clasps upon old necklaces
Break and fall
Into Koi ponds.
The lady gasps but then laughs.
Oh sweet serenity.
Tie your obi
Never in the front you see,
Lest you be seen
Laugh, laugh, laugh;
Fans in front of mouths.
Delicate this great art.
I hope I can someday see
The finest Geisha
Maiko and Geiko alike,
As they pass on Kyoto streets.
Dollie Me.Old tattered dolls,Dollie Me. by ~SecuraLoki
Skin made of spit.
Hair of strained, erratic wire.
Exploded pipe sections;
Vessels trying to keep the blood in place.
Rub the dirt from the face.
White dress stained to sickly yellow
From so much overexposure and cigarette smoke.
Black, eyeless sockets stare far away,
And yet look nowhere at all.
Like so many old pulls on a brain once filled with dreams,
But nothing can ever be as it seems.
Forgotten and banished by a child called Father.
So many eons I might have passed by before,
But I cannot live them as I have none.
This matter, though, I do not mind.
What matters more, as you must see,
Is that this jaundiced dress still clings to me.
What's more is I've gotten so used to the poverty.
This broken doll has not the dignity of a rotten shoebox.
My slumber is tortured but was worse still,
Though, street life was no surprise.
Mercifully, 'twas not a gutter
Where I was forced to live and mutter.
But this jaundiced dress still clings to me.
A young man stands,
TRUTH.Broken bones,TRUTH. by ~SecuraLoki
Glass of love.
Trees replaced with
Kaleidoscopes of old fortune.
Swirling colours speak volumes
Of old sheltered wisdoms.
Telling lies of the heart.
First you stop and then you start.
Gimme Gimme never gets,
But Grabby Grabby steals it all.
So much for fairness after a fall.
You ever so ungrateful vertebrate.
This is the truth of the world.