'Writers are liars by nature, but just because of that, don't discount us. For it is through our lies that we tell the truth. Our stories become the mask.'

Thursday, 13 December 2012

A Small Glass of Pink-Python-Pink-Blossom for you Herr Rabbit...oh shucks, oh shucks!



A Lazy Beat...
(a night in Bali)
From his seat upon the house ornings, the stars his hanging roof,
Sat a man with no regards, music twisting from his throat...
He smiled his moon-like, Cheshire grin, his eyes glowing slits,
As he looked down upon me, sang and hissed 'Hey kid.'
His voice a lazy beat, as his heart beat a writhing tap,
His body coarsed with reptile electric as his feet spun him up the roof,
Sweeping a look behind, he gestured once to me, 'Wat's your game kid?'
As he spun and danced out of sight...
I caught a look again, as he played with the shadows and made soft hues with his voice,
He rounded upon me, grasped my hand and pulled me under...
further from light,
He inspired greatness, swang in corners, danced the streets with stars sparking fires...
his eyes their kinder.
Oh walking shadow, eternal mood...
Sing me at night, show me the way to your moon...
He smiled at this, tilted his hat, crept off into mist, swung back...
'Come' he said 'Find it yourself.'
Eyes alight, with a cats gleam...
hardened skin, he leaps...is gone.
Night.
 
 
I have been gone for a century and one...
returned from behind the earth and in it,
I took the sailing boat right and then north-east...
and told an old tale for passage across,
they took me to be another...
with the broken trails of silver and gold,
I tug here and there about...
Through a hallway,
where shadows take form...
and grin at me with yawning mouths,
moths...
 

 
I took up the coat,
took up the banner-flute...
and called the dark creatures,
that are more and more to me...
like an old forgotten tune,
that is true and belonging to me...
What is shade is not always hideous,
and what sounds horrid can be
 the most marvelous of fates...
I travelled back to the halls of stone,
where the statues creep...
and the flowers weep,
at what we have done to gain our names...
I see through the dust,
to a faded light...
I seize the rice from the bowl set there,
I turn around twice
and chant 'lot's of rice'...
the Sinister Meeting Room calls,
I am ushered in to begin again...
with someone standing with me ten thousand years before.
 
 

 
     
  Well hello there....
 
    I have recently had so much inspiration for my stories and just life in general. Maybe I'll learn to become an architect...maybe I'll create a character called Miss May Be.
    The other night I happened to be chancing a casino under the guise of Scarlett to any questionee there and I stumbled across four or five different people that so...intrigued me. They all wore black outfits, including the girls with them and they were very well-made clothes. It was also that they just held an atmosphere about themselves...that they knew something and even though they were there and gambling, it was all a mere bit of humor to them.
     They also...ahm were wearing identical matching amulets. Very goth...and [I'm serious] in the rough shape of a dragon with a drop of red glass beneath the creatures' tales.
 
    I soo wish I knew if they belonged to some elite, dark and intelligent group...or cult. :]
Gave me heaps of ideas for new stories...but, alas...I have so many other stories going on in my head right now, and that I'm working on that it may need to sink back into the Story DreamTime for a while...until it develops more.
 
   Wishing you a merry Christmas and a billion pink pythons...
 
    Much Love,
    Miss CLScarlett xx
 
   


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