Lifeless painting

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=681469303380&set=a.681469298390.2409661.48920879&theater

Let me hold you, let me touch you, I created you therefore I can love you, take you, to a place you've never been to, to a feeling you've never experienced, sex in its finest, pencil painted, tainted, love drawn, drunk off gin, toxic tonic, let me draw you, I am yours and you are mine, shades of grey, as the day passes turns to night I toil to make you a perfect, like soil I fertilize, harmonize the textures and the shades, dark to light, morning light greets you, but you stay the same, you are perfect, every angle, two dimensional, no flaws, it is too bad you cannot speak, it is too bad you cannot dream, hanging you from wall,soon you will understand, I cannot hold you but I can stare, and wish I can touch your perfect hair, sculpted shoulders, ribs, hips, belly button, the tone is a bit off, so let me fix that, erase that, lips, sweet figs, a portrait of perfection, perfect complexion, you will always be in my dreams, my beautiful, lifeless painting.

Wall Photos

sample from sketchbook.

By:Stacy Stranzl

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Reverse

Let me tell this story backwards, 

phone ringing, eleven twenty seven in the morning, slowly walking backwards creeping into the room, the door closes, striking a pose of regrets, lights turn on in the room, tracing steps back to the washroom, face towl dry then wet by the water in the faucet, spitting back into my mouth the mouth wash mix, close the water faucet, like rewinding the vcr set, belt unbuckling, polo shirt unbuttoning, pants dropping, back to bed, eyes shut, reverse the time to 3 am, here I am, on top of her, hard like a battering ram, from one pose to another, reverse back to missionary, on her back laying breathing heavily, visionary, shouts of climax goes back into my mouth, sperm jumps back into my sac, condom returns to the pack, undo the kiss, undo the tongue, polishing the gums, gum flies on the floor back to her mouth, whispers backwards "wait can't I, yours am I", puts her bra back on her chest, walking backwards facing the light forms a silhouette, from the bed she pushes me forward back to her arms, puts on her charm necklace, hurriedly clothes attach back with pace, pick up the key card on the floor, walk out the door into the hallway walking, back down the stairs, back to the cab, back to the club, back to the first wink, before the first dance, before the first drink, before the music's trance, before we said hello, it was at that moment, our eyes met and our souls let go.

Slaves

As we fall slave to the Illuminati, how dare I say thee, so they chain me, slave me, but I still write in spite of what they might say, or if they may take my freedom away, I write for the youth, for the lost, for the damned, the sickened, the scammed, cos he is raising an army, but I stand before thee with my pen and my pad, quiver while my right hand shivers while writing vigorously, and spontaneously coming up with thoughts and actions that can help separate me from the beast, they feast on the weak, corporate giants stealing the passion from the soul, keeping us half so we will never discover we are whole, soul trapped and locked, invisible box, mental locks, like marx said; slavery is not dead, it just grew another head, named itself a JOB, instead of following our passion, they kill Christ while we gradually develop vices to spice up our life, we close our eyes, fall into a trance at night, the following day is just another replay, another week, another month, every second our life is gone, dwindles while spending on little things that mean little to nothing, sending subliminal minimal messages through TV ads, they should go to jail for their criminal acts, but they pay the heads of state, forget the tax.

Inspired by: http://www.everypoet.net/poetry/blogs/kathy_paysen/seeds_of_nightmares#comment-63616