Spitting tassels of flaming fun

Damn, some days are borne
from the bottled essence
of a dying rose, wilted petals
and the blunt edge toxic thorns.

Fuck, some moments
are the captured seconds
of caring less than the
virgin slut as she repents

Shit, such joyous bells
as the victims, victim
pouts and shouts,
Idiocy they swear and yell.

Holy crap! That tickled me pink,
No white flag, no ivory twig
not a moment to think
before drinking down that bitter drink!

Damn some days are dawned
for the Dame to give rise from pawn
of silent revenue to fierce Knight
setting straight the shit you left askew in the devils bullshit night.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

144,000 lights. 

144,000 lights all flickering
to the beat of another’s purpose.
Lighting the dark corners of ego,
dispersing yesteryears fear
cleansing the broken and
healing the scarred. It is their
purpose. Born to give light in a
world of shadows.

Clarity of thought awareness
purpose swarms in their essence.
I have been purpose, time and time
again I have lit the shadowed path
of the lost and wounded, patched
together the ashes of their
hearts burned and souls scorched.

Sometimes at twilight, myself and Selene,
I ask her does she know, will my purpose
always be so. Her response the same night after dark after night. Her whisper
the silent pearl droplets of love she kisses
upon my skin as she sings a twilight lullaby. Yet, never do I hear her answer.

144,000 lights switched on, each a designed purpose, vessal of aid, beacons
illuminating the way through the darkness that has become us. Unconditional love…but who will love them in return.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on pinterest. I have no claim. 

Darkest Light.

Photo
Darkest Light

Consuming
and all drowning
my essence of night.
Deepest blue,
darkest burgundy,
it matters not,
my essence is cloaked
in this state, this void.
Think not of my night
and my aura as negative
for a dark state
can be a canvas.
A blank page for
something bright
to create. . .something
bright to form
my nights’ sky
and give it character.
and make it
come alive.

Yet it should consume me.
Darkness such as the night sky
should devour me, swallowing
my essence into oblivion.
Do you see me?
I am a mere whisper
of light lost in the echos of time. Yet,
when you lay me upon
your dark essence,
your canvas
becomes my art.
Your depth is my contrast.
I tip toe through your darkest blues
leaving illuminated kisses.
My essence, glimmers and glistens
upon your touch, for my light. . .
is love,
created by your darkness.

Words & Image
©5-2017 Locthiese/Karen Hayward

Check out more work crafted by the multi-talented Loc Thiese by clicking here.

Lost in an adult world. 

And when I wake from slumber 

I am but a child lost in the realm 

of adulthood. 

A child fearsome of the dark 

Searching the heavens for that 

Shining star. 

Lost is my armour, my strength, my fight

I am a child, a seed of the light. 

Angel wings above, auras warmth unseen

A glare in my lost eyes

The only thing I know…

Is too look to the skies. 

Lost in a realm of darkness

I am a child lost in an adults world. 
Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found in Pinterest. 

Every cloud has a silver lining.

img_20161110_142542.jpg

You said…

You build your world upon silver thread that lines yesterdays storms.

and I said…

we choose the darkness or the light,

and so it is I sew.

To which you said…

You see so much beauty,

forgiveness,

you’re a celebration of life.

Smiling, I said…

We all must choose a way to survive.

Yes, you said…

you are my choice for you are my light.

Now I sit among the storming clouds

and ponder how different grey is from silver,

and I hear you whisper,

pick up the needle,

we have many clouds to line.

Between the lost twines

of my silver thread

I glimpse the particles

of light,

your essence shimmering.

And so it is we sew,

for we all must choose

to lose ourselves in the muted grays

or become the

shining essence of silver.

And so it is we sew.

Karen Hayward* ©2017