Always the whore once the angel

Between the
opposing vines
and strangling ivy,
under the
thorned blackberries
and
spite filled Holly
lays the
naked undercurrent
of my thoughts,
battling nurtures
insects and natures angels
And we are
what we create
in the devils flames,
branded souls
whimpering for the deed
they long forgot they
up and sold.
Once an angel
always a whore
Echoing in the broken
beads of thoughts
taught
on a death man’s wish
once brought.
Don’t you see the
shadows that suffocate
feeding from the sins
I’ve sort,
Yeah, once an angel
always a whore
pacing the sinners
catwalk shore
I am my flesh
do as you please
I am my gasps my moans
desire and lust.
I am nothing more.
Once an angel
always the whore.

Karen Hayward ©2018

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Daisy, dandy, buttercup kisses

I’d rather be a weed,
then a flower. I’d rather
be seen as ugly
then pretty, strong
then weak. Resiliently
stubborn fuels my
survival.
I’d rather grow in the
cracks of a beaten side
walk where the
old and the young,
pause before me,
then be lost in the
shadows of a
forgotten garden.
I’d rather be a weed
I’d rather be free.

Karen Hayward ©2017

. . . because beauty comes in many guises.

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. . .because beauty comes in many guises.

External beauty, seen only in the
dark shadows, kissed by a crescent
moon, shroud in storming clouds.

Internal beauty, heard only between
the speckled flakes of cosmic dust
dispersed on opalescent beams.

External beauty gracing the page
in the aesthetic ink of bleeding
wounds and echoed screams.

Internal beauty never fading
perpetual light illuminating eyes,
hope, splattered about life’s canvas.

External beauty duels time and age
captured moments of supremacy
a catalyst of inspired thought, for. . .

Internal beauty needs no parade
in her mellifluous symphony.
Internal beauty needs no parade.

Rob Gordon & Karen Hayward © 2017
Image ©2017 KH

OPEN SUBMISSIONS FOR POETRY!

The Pearls of Catharsis Times!!

Submissions open!! 

Hey guys and gals, i’m an editor of the Poetry and Quotes section in this great magazine, come check it out and send in your submissions. The theme is ‘Summer and/or environmental degradation’

We are open to submissions, closing date June 25th 2017.

 

Insecurities rush, the blind side.

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It claws at me gently as hormones rise,

I know the uncertainty of insecure skies,

When enough, leaves and I see not a thing

Oh how I know what the short rise will bring.

But if nothing is all and all is free,

There’s nothing left for my broken soul, to see.

A blank page and empty space

Expect nothing, leave negative space.

I’m a whisper, a silhouette a bland empty ghost,

So alone I stand and alone I host.

Karen Hayward ©2017