Thursday, July 5, 2012

New post + Poem

Aloha Slores and You cute little wide open doors!

I know I haven't blogged in a while, but I have been really inundated with agency work, script reading and attending workshops while staying high, cool, and super-Ray. It's important that I keep this page updated, so since I haven't been doing that, here's a spanking new poem for you to drool over (read) [LOL]:

Tale of the Hawk

I don’t believe a single word muttered
Nor seat myself atop your wings
Fearful of your sometimes wanton, but mostly purposeful stings
As you live a life I proclaim shuttered.

 There’s nothing magical about you now,
At least not to the fairytales before which enthralled minds bow,
The stories telling of princes, kingdoms, fairies and garden gnomes expressing royal fidelity
Maintain every spark ignited, even by ho-hum soliloquy,
Unlike your majestic stride easily permeated by personal security,
And quickly turned to mockery upon inspection, before you desire opinion from a referee,
You survive on acquired instinct and prey on the weak
Unaware of how, when inflicted with pain, even the inanimate lend a voice to speak.

You’re like an abandoned place
Reserved for decay and lost in time’s ever-running race;
Rusted, unpromising, unforgiving and without glimmer to deliver any more virtue,
Your windows remain eternally opened, even to cursed air
So that all ignominy settles upon your mistreated facade,
And the fragments of sin ricochet, but then eventually slam into frame so fractured, yet hard.

Broken, defeated and unable to reclaim
Shame has been cast into your name,
Though haughty gestures and pride had told you otherwise,
There are more truths than your own, now you must realise,
Abnegating your disposition to behave as does a brute,
Especially in the company of love dressed in a regal suit
It’s your character in need of assessing,
Not your body in need of redressing
Since your masquerade
Allowed me to be the bird on which you preyed;
Your bow-ties get you laid,
The deceiving smile gets you richly paid
And the sinister puzzle ensued upon hand-shake, is the answer to why the cycle could never fade;

Bent on deception,
Intrigued by hurt, and enemies with guilt,
You are the embodiment of diabolic conception
And as your eyes open to each new day
You devour any form of alteration
And intoxicate yourself on mundane hearsay,
Accompanied by your sly desire to be the hawk most stuffed on prey
Each and every single long, short, hot or cold day,
As long as you can proclaim, haughtily, that you’ll always stay.

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