Marys Monsters
Shes making monsters that are strangely surreal
Sculpted from the realms of her own reality
Like the humans that first came disguised as angels
They entice her with the luxury of free thought
Yet enslave upon her their own hypocrisy
Cruelly with the passing of time.
Feeding from her frenzy until she is almost empty
Stealing her notoriety, Mary in her naivety
Hoped she may could be free
Yet misery would not let her be
Death desperation poverty
So she bought her monsters to life
Animating them with thunder electricity and ice
Patching pieces out of the cadavers of her own humanity
Insanity Loss and tragedy
Mary Shelley made her monsters a reality
Created from her haemorrhaged memories.
20/03/2020 mysticladyart copyrighted
A buzzing hive
Half empty
Half full
The soul is a vessel
With a quest for knowledge
Yet knowing nothing seeking everything
The beginning of a new end
The end of a new beginning
A puzzle fitting with a thousand pieces
Each piece lost inside a bigger scene
Wanting to be noticed , waiting to be seen
Droves of millions lost in humanity
A Buzzing bee hive mentality
Moving beyond light years in time
Yet shifting dark years behind
With a deeper longing to connect
To assimilate and be at one with the divine.
20/03/2020 mysticladyart copyrighted
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The light that created all lights
Sunlight touching all, a radiant light that ignites
Unites spilling over an energy with an ability to enlighten
Creating healing that is abundantly bright.
Moonlight reflecting and descending as it glows
Casting eclipses mysterious shadows that follow
Directing tidal and primeval flows,
A silver globe to illuminate you back home
Spilling beams upon earths weary travellers wherever they may roam.
20/03/2020 mysticladyart copyrighted
The Fleeting life of the Luna moth 2020
From egg to caterpillar shes eating leaves
In a feeding frenzy underneath the walnut trees
Amongst deciduous forestry
Inconspicuous to you and me
Then entombed in her cocoon
She spinning silks within her chrysalis
In metamorphosis
Now shes within another transition
Participating in her final mission
Waiting anticipating pupating
Now shes emerging and negating
Crumpled wings now straightening
Finding freedom underneath the moon light
Nocturnal in flight luminous and bright
Shes an exceptional sight
If you spot her amid those short seven nights
Mysterious eyes that seem to fly
Upon wings that beat so rapidly
She has no need to feed or sleep
Now shes calling out for company
Laying her eggs under the summer trees
Shes left her legacy and is finally free
The fleeting life of the lunar moth.
Suspended in a state of animation, 2010.
Suspended in a state of animation,
All Perpetual motions,
All perplexing notions,
Are surrendered inanimately,
Relinquished unconditionally.
I’m rolling to a standstill,
Familiar voices, falling into a landfill,
Of nudging elbows & hushed chills.
I’m frozen over, snowed in,
Sinking under a Forest of barren thoughts,
Bear like the winter trees,
Shivering in the arctic breeze,
They buckle and bow, under the weight of heavy snow,
With Warped and twisted branches,
I’m trapped under an avalanche
Of peculiar shifting circumstance.
Yesterday’s headlines they mean nothing to me,
They heave under mounting deadlines,
Drowning under piles of unedited paperwork and late mail,
Engines have broken down, lost and abandoned in quiet rural towns,
They have lost connection, lost direction,
I’m suspended inanimately, watching things grind quietly,
Resigning without a fight, falling down with a quiet ease
Submitting unconditionally to circumstances that are bigger than me.
mysticladyart copyrighted @2010
Art and poetry copyrighted via lulu publishing @ mysticladyart&mysticpoetry 2020
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