Poetry

Midnight Remorse ~ Remord de Minuit

~ Purpleanais ~ 61 Comments
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I get off my throne 

Take off my clothes

I keep my crown

My silver bangles

Get down on the floor

Crawl

A slow

Deliberate animal

I lick my lips, shake my hair

I can see your hands tremble 

Such are our desires

An urge, intense and primal

To play predator and prey 

At times you are my slave

Others I am yours 

We revel

In filth and shame 

Games of pleasure and pain

Now

You stand over me 

Still statue carved in stone

Silent with burning eyes

 

You are already mine – 

 

But my submission 

Its meaning 

My legendary pride 

Discarded

For you, thrown aside

A queen purposefully brought low 

 

– makes you even more so

 

Placing the final piece in the puzzle

So complicated and yet so simple

The contract that binds 

Is the one left unsigned

Your hand on my throat 

My fingers in your mouth 

The sharp intake of breath

I expect 

When you’re on the edge

When I know you’re close

Tomorrow

And the days after

I will bleed into your thoughts

Seep in little by little 

Until

The need 

To taste me again 

Takes over 

Colours

With crimson red over monochrome 

Controls

You – body, mind and soul because

 

Mine is the name you can’t say

I am the secret you can’t share

What should have been sunset-lit

But instead

I am your midnight remorse

Je suis ton remord de minuit 

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Once

~ Purpleanais ~ 28 Comments

We escaped gloomy cages

Breathed new air outside the musty pages

Of the books we’d sheltered in

For so long

We were bewitching birds brought back for a single song

Dried butterflies,

Wings untied,

Briefly swelling with life

Drunk on sun & scented promises

The sweet sound of stolen kisses

For a little while, we were allowed

To fly once more – high, above the clouds

It didn’t last

It never does

Alas everything must die

Go back to ashes and dust

But,

I’ll always remember

How once we emerged

From the cocoon of past winters

Happy Ending

~ Purpleanais ~ 41 Comments

image
I dig out the old typewriter

as I want to drunk write

a crazy flamboyant story

Moulin Rouge style

only the whore doesn’t die

but lives happily ever after

having renounced her ways

stopped hawking her wares

for a handful of rose petals

a treasure chest filled with hope

wild kisses beneath a lamp post

silhouettes backlit by the storm

a canary bird waking up at dawn

twirling on its perch, notes emerge

from its tiny beak a power surge

powerful as waves on a fractured shore

there lies the beauty of being a writer

tap tap tap go the keys

you can rewrite, relive, tweak

each and every bit of the story

my whore has red stains on her cheeks

vivid colour induced by satisfied lust

I’ve taken out consumption, disease

added drama I deem alluring

it’s perfect now as it is—romantic—

tempestuous, but with a happy ending

*This was written and posted 2 years ago, but I like it enough that it’s worth reposting*

Two Divided by Zero

~ Purpleanais ~ 24 Comments

the curse of a mind that analyses, questions, wonders, speculates

and wanders down paths it should not

wanting everything to stay the same

and everything to change

sounds deranged

but what was enough isn’t anymore

or maybe it still is, hard to tell

when your thoughts are stuck in a self-made cell

what should be mine is not

even though it is – somehow

there are some things you shouldn’t look into

don’t disturb the surface, don’t stare into depth

wise advice, easy to say, hard to obey

what could have been is pointless

what will be matters more

yet I can’t see the shore

I’ve strayed too far

others are knocking at my door

simplicity lies that way

meaningless things which wouldn’t cause sleeplessness

and a possible trip to the funny farm

alas I am blind and deaf

can’t see, hear anything that’s not my semicircle

my Bermuda Triangle

the one who makes me want to crawl

on a filthy floor

littered with shared deviant fantasies

and depraved tales better left untold

or push him against a wall

to place a collar around his throat

masters and servants is a game best played

when one is eager to swap roles

I want both, I want all

in any case, in life

only a handful of times

at most

can you find another mind

that perfectly aligns with yours

and never, not once

can two be divided by zero

so my problem has not been solved

writing, following a winding course

what to do now… I still don’t know

Almost always

~ Purpleanais ~ 24 Comments

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Given the chance 
I will almost always
Take the spiral staircase
Leading to a place
I shouldn’t be
It’s crazy, it’s risky, you might lose your mind, fuck up catastrophically
It’s definitely not recommended for everybody
but it’d be so shitty
to look back and think
Hey, fuck it, I missed out –
entirely
What’s life without danger and a little mystery
Don’t listen to me though,
It’s well known
I’m away with the fairies

Image credit: patimakowska.deviantart.com

When it snows

~ Purpleanais ~ 23 Comments

If I ever got married, if I was ever so inclined

To make another forever mine

I’d like it to be when it snows

Cheeks red with cold, perfect scarlet apples, breath like puffs of smoke

I’d want clouds, across the sky blown by winter wind

No sun blazing at my wedding

Imagine Rod Serling

Introducing the twilight zone

His face bathed in monochrome shades

All my photos in an album of sepia tones

Love may mingle with the snow, neatly filling the Hollow

As a tiny church nestled inside sleepy walls

Sets the scene

And completes the tableau

*This little something was inspired by the last lines in this gorgeous (and v. emotional – for me) tune*

5th of November

~ Purpleanais ~ 19 Comments

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5th of November:
Outside, the air suitably smells of powder, smoke — it’s bitterly cold but no matter, because for the crowds, it’s all about homegrown terrorism and Guy Fawkes.

A penny for the guy and a penny for your thoughts, before you play your hand — straight As for your poker face and the impressive attention span.

It’s a royal flush of course: you win, take everything-including me-on the table. It’s messy, it’s bold, the cards tumble, fall to the floor.

“Preposterous” I mumble.
Why? I don’t know, maybe the wine was responsible, or this is what happens when sanity crumbles.

“Say it again” he tells me…he insists, when I don’t reply instantly.

I oblige: “Pre-pos-ter-ous”

Possibly the strangest dirty talk ever, have I done weirder? I can’t recall.

Nevertheless, as long as there’s no straight jackets, give us a cell and padded walls—sex laced with intellect from dusk till dawn—I guarantee I’d never get bored.

Pre-pos-ter-ous. Possibly my new favourite word…this, I discovered on a night filled with fireworks, on the
5th of November.

*Posted this time last year, but I kind of like it.

Halloween Lover

~ Purpleanais ~ 29 Comments

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So it is that soon I will rise again

I will come up

through the mud and dark earth

emerging in a damp cellar

dry flesh craving the touch

of an unwilling lover

will it be you that I caress

stroke with my ice-cold fingers

embrace for one fleeting moment

my frigid skin peeling, shredding

my eyes unseeing

your screams rising

in the raw glacial night

what a sorry plight

is yours, wretched victim

of my yearly Halloween yearning

*I have posted this before, but it is one of those I like though I wrote it ages ago – it’s got that sexy creepy vibe. And I just love that pic – it deserves to be reposted just for that*

Image Credit: Beautiful Decay by jaded-ink @deviantart.com

Same

~ Purpleanais ~ 25 Comments

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A year ago exactly, I said a final goodbye to somebody who had been a close friend. We’d shared many happy times, but that was before he decided to obliterate them all with a weird obsession and a determination that was really quite admirable in a sick kind of way.

Yes, Tom, a year on and I still can’t quite comprehend why you drove me to the edge of insanity. Because I was the ultimate prize in your eyes, I guess, and a narcissist must obtain and then destroy just to feel, just to be.

There were explosions of colours all over the streets when we parted for the last time, leaves scattered everywhere and my heart was heavy but I felt free at last from your manipulation and your sick games. October then was an end and a beginning, cliché as it seems.

Autumn has arrived again, my favourite season, always has been, which makes it strange that it should be without fail when self-loathing hits me like a tsunami. The same leaves are covering the pavements, the leaves I kick childishly as I’m walking, while wondering how I always get things wrong, how every time I think I’ve got this life thing sorted, it turns out I haven’t at all.

One can’t raise the bar when it’s already sky high, so I’m left stranded while the tide comes in, I stand still, breathing salty air, pushing aside all thoughts until I’m surrounded and I can no longer ignore this sad state of affairs. The ghosts will keep tugging if you let them – them with their fucking chains – but underneath the self loathing, buried deep but there all the same, is the certainty I will win this fight eventually.

Maybe I am doomed to keep making the same mistakes, even as I keep raising the stakes, maybe the fact I keep getting it wrong will be inscribed on my grave. In any case,
there is only one thing to do to survive, and it’s to get new feelings to replace the old ones.

Photo my own