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The Rat BoyThere was a rat boy, so timid and small.
Everything in this world, seemed so tall.

To everyone, he was minuscule,
a lonely, livid, leaf, inside his school.

There came his oppressors, his offenders,
and in a diary he'd write, hidden in his dresser.

Dear Diary
Day one

They found out I was a bastard son.
Hunted me like a fox, all for fun.
I guess to them,
i'm just a joke,
with a very weak pun.

Dear Diary
Day 22

More abuse, do I deserve this? What's the excuse?
They knocked out a tooth, found themselves amused.

Oh well. You have me, I have you, what's that Diary?
I love you too.

Dear Diary
Day 43

Too tired, too weak, sorry diary lets bot
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
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
She Walks In LightShe walks in light down darkened paths
Despite the demons that hide within
She pays no mind to their siren calls
Nor a glance toward them does she send
With each and every burdened step
She knows the task she must complete
Though heavy fate rests on her shoulders
She can not stop to rest her feet
Through the shadows all around her
She must carry on
Even though she's terrified
Until the glowing break of dawn
Within us all the darkness lies
Afraid of light inside our souls
It's for us to shine that light
For us to make ourselves whole.
-Illuminate the darkness.
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
LifeIf we really think about life, then we soon realise;
we're nothing but a splatter of blood, on a killer's knife.
walking corpse syndromerotting bones in a coffin of flesh
why havent i been buried just yet
i wait, i ache, i slowly decay
why is my body treated this way

i'm only a ghost inside of a corpse
oxygen kills and it's starting to work
but everything seems to move far too slow
i'm like a puppet, alive just for show
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
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
ThinkingStronger and stronger i may i might,
Why have i sat here all tonight,
Thinking and thinking but not alone,
What am i thinking for someone to know?
I sit i wish i will move on,
But its just another step on,
Live the life that you want,
For its the life you caught.
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.
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More from *Parsat

Plum-BloodMy flesh and blood lie past the sea,
But all their hopes lie here on me.
I am the heir to ancient name:
The only known, as records went aflame.
Who knows where else my plum-blood dwells?
It's past my ken, only luck can tell.
And still I look past aspects of my birth
To my life here upon this earth:
Child of God, imperial flesh,
Lover of wit and words enmeshed--
Perhaps I cannot seek to understand
My truth, my life, my mortal plans...

But still I savor who I am.
Just Passing ByWhat happens to a dream deferred?
It's like a rider dragged through dirt
With heel in stirrup, spurs like hooks.
From horse to mustang, that's all it took:
A shot in the dark and nary a word.

What happens when your plans go broke?
A tumbleweed fleeing from the smoke
Of torches searching reddened earth,
A-tumblin' away for what it's worth,
A tangled mass of rimless spokes.

What happens when a vision fades?
The doctor's eyes dart and evade,
The slightest stammer, beading sweat.
Though you can't help but feel upset,
It's some relief the truth's conveyed.

What happens when life intervenes?
The coffin-man has kids to wean.
The des
IntangibilityA Riddle

Like a terrible beast
It passes by,
Unseen to all,
By none defied.

From small acorn
To branching oak,
Then back to ground,
Its terrible yoke.

Not even stone
With resolute mind;
Inside the gorge
A river winds.

But for those sheltered
From its midst,
Intangibility
Will persist.

While we have love
Or legacies,
There will be things
It cannot seize.
Thoughts While Playing Fantasie-ImpromptuIn rhythmic time I press the keys,
But frustration mounts as I break the chain
Of notes that come and seem to freeze
My dull'd fingers, notes bursting forth, sustained.
Among the faltering notes I hear
The crashing waves of the tempestuous sea:
Waves smashing forth upon the pier,
And wet water streaming, trickling down. He
Who filled the oceans rages now,
Palpable as the agitated spray.
But soon it fades, his rainbow vow
Holds still, passed down unfading to this day.
The sea now calmly teems with life
From animalcules to the largest beast--
Graceful, with calls that show no strife--
Floating placid in a current of peace.
But c
June 4These are the days when pent-up fear
Erupts in a volley of stones and of sticks.

A rock in hand:
The tear gas breaks.
A tank command,
Rumble and shake.

And in the distance one may hear
The timorous roar of a Type Fifty-Six.

Running nose,
Running feet,
Gunning rows
Out on the street.

A broken Internationale,
The tape has been pulled and the vinyl is cracked.

Motors humming,
Ricochets whining,
Heartbeats drumming,
Bureaucrats dining.

Banners and blood like red canals
Down alleys and streets they will have to redact.

A number's my study, but I'm not sadistic,
I'd rather you not end a fatal statistic.
But if needed, you know
ZacchaeusA camel through the needle's eye:
To shrink the beast, or open wide?
Clamber on a sycamore high,
Impossibilities inside.

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Sonnet XLII

:iconparsat:

Op. 22, no. 9
To my Former One

A loss in love that touches me more nearly,
This utter loss of friendship have I felt.
The wound and scar that aches much more severely,
The pound of flesh whose loss I have been dealt.
I do not pine for kisses in the night,
Nor eyes adoring in their furtive glance.
I ceased to dwell upon our bitt'rest fight,
Or whether it had ever stood a chance.
But this I miss, that we were friends before,
In silence or in speech, through laughs or tears.
Confide, confess, it let my spirit soar
To trust you with the secrets of my years.
The one who coined "just friends"--O, what a hack!
My dearest friend is never coming back.
:iconparsat:
Op. 22, no. 9 of my sonnet series Aaron's Beard, on platonic love and friendship. Based on Shakespeare's 42nd sonnet, "That thou hast her it is not all my grief."

What a sad thing it is to lose a dear friend! Will we ever talk again?
:iconrationalist-v-artist:
Critique by =Rationalist-v-Artist Jan 9, 2013, 2:04:52 PM
I see where Shakespeare's 42nd sonnet inspired your words. I also like your allusion to 'The Merchant of Venice' in line 4; the imagery really added to the description.

Your rhyme is smooth and original, which is always great to see in fixed poetry. Your iambic pentameter is spot on too (which is one of my usual gripes!). I know how hard it can be to write convincing iambic pentameter and rhyme together, but you show expert knowledge of rhythm and sound.

You keep concisely to the theme whilst expanding it in the second quatrain, and when you're developing the dilemma in the third. I applaud you for keeping so tightly to Shakespeare's structure of a sonnet here. Your final rhyming couplet provides a fantastic resolution to the sonnet, even when it does hold a tinge of sadness.

Overall, you have a clear and concise vision, and have employed all the literary techniques of a sonnet with expertise and originality. This is a beautiful sonnet, and I thank you for the pleasure of reading it, truly.
What do you think?
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