marți, 16 septembrie 2014

The Dark Rose

The queen moon sets high majestic,
Reborn like every night from earthy breasts of mountains;
Disheveled clouds entomb their act
And go to cry their tears in phantom lands;
Lake’s poisoned water mirrors the waltzes of skeletal  fireflies;
Trees take their guard as keepers of howling winds…
Everyone steals their toxic-deserved rest
From Sandman’s bag of ethereal sleeps…
The reign of the night and dreams is about!

And in the silent garden we found new shine to thrill:
The foremost Rose artistic lays, like the shady old muses
Of the chaotic filoplume quill.

Was born in the abyss of the star of the butterfly,
Free and adventurous,
Her shape is perky and her breath of decayed aphrodisiac…
They beget untamed pleasures and pour tainted fantasies.

Its stem is thin and of the raw green,
Made from blood of spring’s first blade of grass…
With leaves curvy, minty and
Biodegradable, who leave her like the skin leaves the snake
In liquid, tantalizing movements…

And on the despoiled succubus, creepy tattooed we see
The sharp, deep penetrating, blackest thorns…
The sickles that beheads even the strongest of wills.

Its petals are made of the shiniest darkness,
And expose themselves fleshy, exotic, delicious,
 A filthy and flamboyant burlesque that
Gets you addicted into a thunderous submission.

The sepals are wild castles of bronze bones
And the roots are legs of the most glamorous ballerina.

A unique and zesty feature that gives the dark rose
Unequaled charm and noble features,
This rose’s hip is magical and powerful:
From it pours rotting, hot nectar
And putrid, livid ambrosia that both three hearts nurtures.