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Masquerade at Windsor Hall
Gallant sirs and debutantes arriving at the ball.
A masquerade on friday night, down at Windsor Hall.
Cocktail's flowing, band is playing, winner takes it all!
By the time the party's done it's on the floor they'll crawl.

Silk-laced gowns and three-piece suits and faces that are masked.
Homely Archduke's daughter's there (surprised that she was asked!).
Woodford twins arrived at ten (weren't asked and so they crashed!).
Gals of Downton also came, in adulation basked.

Truth be told, behind the masks and costumes made of wool,
are rotten chaps and spoiled debs who suffer not a fool.
And if you think these words of mine are harsh or mean or cr
Cordis Somnium*Fall past the asphalt
Thro’ the honey bee scene
Dip thy feet within
Naides’ yielding stream.

Thine arms splayed toward Hyades  
A grey morn consumes the sun
Rain brings silk to the heat fraught meadow;
For time to touch thy form, it must run.

And thine hair was a mess after the rain.
“Will you ask it of me soon?”
Before the world is found to be concrete and sprinkled streets
“Before my qualms on leaving find the noon?”

The sharp cry of the meandering city
Thrives on slapdash letters, in cheap, restless dives
Therein reside, the silent concerto of our drifting
Where individual voices drown, and no love
I aint made of paintI aint made of paint.

I'm made of concrete.

Your the one who kicked me off my feet.

Look past the picture.
Look past the scriptures.
Look closer, look deeper.

How bout
for once, you be the brush

How bout
for once, you shut up and hush.

You the mortal and pestle,
my spirits you crushed.

Into fine grain, into fine dust.

Your form the colors!
You sculpt the bust!

I aint made of paint

I aint acrylics.
I aint oils.
I aint water color.

We are no art scholars.

But,
listen good.
Listen close.

Next time you don't like, when i'm feeling blue.

I refuse, to paint a picture for you.
Slow and SteadyCrowds of people rush around,
their steaming coffee in one hand and phone in the other,
while they juggle their problems and all of their emotions
and claim that everyone around them is a bother.
Caught in such a frenzy, they push their way
through the slow and steady that block their path,
for they're already running far too late
to even consider slowing down or turning back.
Where they are trying to go, I haven't the slightest idea,
but even if I asked, they'd surely be far too preoccupied
ignoring everything else as they sip their cold coffee
and stare at their phone, wondering how the battery already died.
Red-Eyed EgoOn a dying tree, in a forest of lush,
sat a lone crow, whose red eyes
scanned every stone, branch and bush
in that vast land.
The wind picked up, carrying the leaves
that had fallen from that tree,
which the crow strongly believed
was her only home.
It needed not a single leaf, nor
a shred of life, for all it needed
was to stand, to help the crow explore
and see everything that surrounded her.
She required no love, nor a single friend,
so long as her tree stood tall
in that forest, until the end -
all she wanted was the sight.
With her piercing eyes, that crow saw
everything that could be seen -
she saw every virtue and every flaw
that exist
Shut inDon’t mock me, or block me
from taking my stance;
A pity, the city
is caught in a trance.

If only the lonely--
the rich and the poor,
Admit it, we did it!
By shutting our door.

I’d doubt it, without it,
We’d crumble in ruin;
Still, steady, already
forgot what we’re doin’,

We chide the society
for shutting us in--
When really, the “silly”
was us to begin.
time to grow uplife feels personal   but it's not
woes befall by scattershot
what's happening now has happened before
what does not pertain   we learn to ignore

you pray for a break   you want a promise
it is what it is   there is no justice

llp - dA - may2013
How to Know You're Living Rightif today was your last day,
and tomorrow was too late...

if the devil came and knocked on my door,
said, "You'll be given scant hours more."
I'd pack no bags, just jot a note:
"It's been fun, more than I'd hoped,"
and let it flutter to the floor.

if plans you make for your last day,
things you'd want to try and play;
if special times you wish you would,
you're not living as you should...
it doesn't matter anyway.

when the devil comes and knocks on my head,
"This day is your last," he said;
"Keep the change, let's move on out:
last day's ain't what life's about."
I'll race him to his vessel instead.

could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Sins of the FleshThey're gazing in their mirror eyes
Full of loving longing and filthy longing
And moist-meat sounds that turn
My stomach at the thinking of.
They rut, my friends, and damn themselves.
I envy the damned, their ignorance.
Their love looks like lust to loveless eyes.

And as such, I can see them rutting
Whenever I close my eyes
And the thought itself disgusts me.
And in the ending of their tryst
They pool together into one.

They strut and rut in the streets
That burn in lust beneath my eyes.
Would that a tide would wash away
Oh that a tide of fire would burn away
And cleanse this world of its filth!

Yet one day, in a possible future,
I may be
Paint the Worlddon't plant your soul deep underground,
only your fears will sprout.
let it soar in the blue sky high,
let it turn you inside-out.

seed the clouds grey and white,
and the colors will rain on down.
dip your brush in puddles wide,
or dance is your drab gown.
this world will offer...this world will offer a tie for my trust
but no government can raise life from the dust

so i got to remember the truth that resides
when ile follow my heart instead of the lies

that everyones spewd whether like it or not
who knows wut is best in a place that will rot?

so just smile and think 'wut a fool is that guy'
hes not going to college he'll be shoed as a fly

and tho i may not be on record or known
we'll all be remembered for wut we have sown

not wut we have reaped or wut we may claim
achievements or 'honors' as fame is a game

and 'trusty' employers will say they know why
and demanding u orders to follow, or 'bye'

but i got to ask
Chasing hidden light
Water rolls off of pristine petals
Far beyond the beauty of moist metals

The organic life fighting for the outside
Wanting a life the cage seems to hide

Customary blooms of a sacred nature
Alloy of a colder nomenclature

But beauty always finds a way
No matter the sunlight given through the day

To brake the bonds of a confined space
A battle so many in life have faced

Yet like a broke heart that only wants to decay
The side of the fence has a better light….and I want her to stay.
Awake in my ExistenceLive through others in your proxy
You challenge existence without noises
The only thing you cannot fathom
Is the wakening of your boredom

Awake a life full of illusions
Crave for another lost sweet union
On a realm of cruel destruction
You whisper words of guilt and nonreaction

The frame of death float on your life
Not another hope for the lost souls
Desire, joy in your cortex will subscribe
Stand up choices who belong mentally yours.
InsaneA ring to drive me less insane
Then my essence now so profane
To hide from sight
The noxious blight
Of darkness deep inside my brain.
Perfect in PlainYou've been living a dream
With your eyes open wide
All the prettiest scenes
Always trying to hide

As you see what they don't
And they don't know at all
All the secrets that float
In a World made of falls

All the flowers that bloom
In the late summers rain
Are all blooming for you
Who sees perfect in plain
Browse More Like This
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More from ~JillyWhite

Slowa.Żyj, idioto, dla ułudy
Dla linijek kilku wdzięcznych
Które zatuszują brudy
Zetrą kurz, ślady pajęczyn.

Karm się słowem, które przecież
W naszym świecie nic nie znaczy
Czy mężczyźnie, czy kobiecie
Miesza we łbie- nie tłumaczy.

Karm się słowem, twórz je nawet!
Udaj, że to twe uczucia
Będziesz pyszną miał zabawę
Jakże trudną do popsucia.

Serce ubierz w płaszcz ochronny
Niech nie zazna romantyzmu
Będzie rycerz to niezłomny,
Który pancerz ma z cynizmu.

Nigdy nie śmiej o
A wiec jednak...A więc jednak pan odchodzi w dal bez czasu
A więc jednak darmo łez potoki płyną
Ja zostaję zagubiona bez kompasu
Pan zapewnia- cztery dni tak szybko miną.

A więc jednak pan zostawia mnie tu samą
A więc jednak nie uśmiechnę się ni razu
Łkam boleśnie- być idiotką zakochaną
To nie słuchać się rozumu drogowskazu.

A więc jednak niknie resztka mej radości
A więc jednak wrak uśmiechu idzie na dno
W duszy rodzą się piekące wątpliwości
Które serce jak psów zgraja wnet dopadną.
Depcze dume.Błagam- niech mnie pan przytuli!
Błagam, depcząc swoją dumę.
Twarz chcę skryć w pańskiej koszuli,
Sercem żyć,a nie rozumem.

Błagam- niech smutek ugłaszcze
Stęsknionymi opuszkami
Pan najmilszy, pan, co zawsze
Spokój niesie ze słowami.

Błagam- niech pan nie zostawia
Ust kapryśnych, szlochem drżących.
Błagam- niech pan nie odmawia
Tych wieczorów ciepłem tchnących.

Błagam- niech pan moich dłoni
Ni na chwilę nie wypuszcza!
Tylko pańska czułość chroni,
Gdy mnie rozpacz nie opuszcza.

B&

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September 9, 2011
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[x]

Szyba.

:iconjillywhite:

Na świat spoglądam zza szyby
I nie zdumiewa mnie nic.
Ktoś szepnie "ach, cuda, dziwy",
Lecz ze mnie milczący widz.

Szyba opluta przez zbrodnie,
Szyba, co spływa wciąż krwią.
Ja siedzę w cieple, wygodnie
I tylko ręce mi drżą.

Czasem ktoś szybę przemywa
I widzę złośliwy los,
Co się na nogi podrywa,
By uciec, śmiejąc się w głos.

Czasem grad monet zadzwoni
Mokry od potu i łez.
Dłonie przytknięte do skroni
- Bezradny, dziecinny gest.

Nie wierzę już w piękne słowa,
Nie wierzę w miłość i ład.
Poezję w sercu zachowam.
Niechaj ocali ten świat.
:iconjillywhite:
9 IX 2011

... bo nie rozstaję się z kieszonkowym wydaniem Tuwima... i naprawdę nie wierzę w nic prócz sztuki.
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:iconelise-lucy:
*Elise-Lucy Nov 13, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Podoba mi się ten wiersz - naprawdę widać przenikający z niego smutek i chęć izolacji. Niewielu osobom udaje się uzyskać tak dobry efekt :)
Reply
:iconjillywhite:
~JillyWhite Nov 13, 2011   Writer
Dzięki ;)
Reply
:iconalwaysreadinggirl:
~AlwaysReadingGirl Sep 18, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
ja nigdy nie byłam zbyt dobra w ubieraniu uczuć w słowa więc wyrażę się tak :worship:
Reply
:iconjillywhite:
~JillyWhite Sep 19, 2011   Writer
Ojej, miło mi. :aww:
Reply
:iconpavboq:
*pavboq Sep 18, 2011
Uwielbiam inteligentną poezję:)
Reply
:iconjillywhite:
~JillyWhite Sep 18, 2011   Writer
Bardzo dziękuję za ten komplement! :)
Reply
:icondeszcz-o-5-nad-ranem:
~deszcz-o-5-nad-ranem Sep 14, 2011
przez chwilę, zastanawiałem się czy szyba to telewizor, może to 1,5. dno.
Reply
:iconjillywhite:
~JillyWhite Sep 14, 2011   Writer
W sumie sama w myślach nie sprecyzowałam czym jest szyba. Można to tłumaczyć różnie, a telewizor jest jednym z dobrych tropów. :)
Reply
:iconkairamclilian:
Mood: Joy ~KairaMcLilian Sep 13, 2011
Wiersz bardzo ladny, podoba mi sie ta wizja. Ale z ostatecznym wnioskiem sie nie zgodze- sztuka to wlasnie ludzie. Przez nich stworzona i dla nich. Sztuka dla sztuki nie jest juz sztuka, ale potworem. Ergo wierzysz w ludzi :)
Reply
:iconjillywhite:
~JillyWhite Sep 14, 2011   Writer
Może i racja, właściwie. Sztuka dla sztuki nigdy mnie nie przekonywała. Więc wierzę, że chociaż część ludzi jest w stanie czuć, myśleć i funkcjonować normalnie, nie patologicznie.
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