Moms of Steel

Left in a berth not of her making, that found Cupid sad. Fate cast her in a tumult and unquiet role, where she would question her very soul.

Closer to her privateness she pulls the woolen scarf of those who came before. It has become her bower in times of perennial tears.

Long before Triton first blew his horn in the time of the old gods, women have been allotted this unique task. Armed solely with a silent lyre and told to bedight tiny angels left unnamed.

Her maddened brain is obscured by steel clouds, and carried by old wives. Yet she endures alone, and with a bewinged quietude, delivers once drunk children along destiny's cartroad to their glossy and red-litten success.

Left tangled in weeping vines, battling half witted men of primitive rank. Her voluptuous rage has left them rapt in tender hoverings. Forever seeking Virgil's counsel as offensive and simple minded paupers. While she with nimble toes, mellifluous sorrows, and ambrosia breath can call forth the divine armies.

Encumbered Souls

She enters as gently as a shadow upon the breath of God. But her undertow is harsh like an indignant empurpled hound.

To the world she exhibits her sovereign diadem as soft, ashen clouds post storm. But alone with her lovers she is a ghoul - haunted turret waiting to cumber their souls with her pettish tears.

She will never have to wrestle her future demons. For so many with the faith of northern brothers will from ebon ramparts, fight with blue and black thunder. She forever slumbers in her mansion of deception as those that love her lay dying in a shack.      

- Johnny V.

Sweetness

Although we were but two ships on a moonlit sail, her power over me is an aeonian flame. I claw and scrape at the speckled grey flesh, but to no gain, for it is her memory that torments my very being.

She has a sweetness which is both timeless and tantalizing, but gnaws the very whiteness of my smile. As vermin to rotting flesh. She will never allow me to stray far from her strength for her desires are gravid.
                                       
She understands she can live beyond her safety, for many blind to her danger will pacify her time and again.  She never need fear retaliation for an embattled soul hasn't the strength to pronounce sentence.

Knowing that she holds a past darker than the far end of the moon. Their love forever her's, and their empty tomb unwilling to seek a new passenger. So hence they remain a hollow vessel,  broken and damaged, for all who later may seek satisfaction.

-Johnny V.

God's Blind Spot

I huddle quietly in God's blind spot. Hoping to avoid his gaze. But he knows of my heartache, despite his refusal.       

I see my funeral pall unfurled and crisp. I become gorged on religious gloom, and send my sour prayers to a god dimissive of my endless pain.

My soul unloved, and rejected,  smiles and reeks of old lovers.

She bathed in mockery and a grey silence, laughs at my false heart. She is as the silk girl bringing gold, both beloved and bitter.

Long before the mighty squires of Athens fell, she was wise with a saber. Now her path littered with the faces of the nameless, and godless.

But I still fortune's fool, entombed and tottered in guilt, stand inside of Hell and stroke the ring of Lucifer.

-Johnny V.

Vivian's Voice

Her beauty rivals even Venus in her glory.
Her sublime and bediamond smile has often rendered gods mute.

The silence remains unbroken as sainted maidens keep watch over the slumbering rose.
Not a single murmur is captured, for quiet even are the wontonest birds.

The river lords of long ago speak fondly of her stubborn soul.
Her once folded wings, once ill-formed and pacified. Now, spirited and unyielding, are patulous toward the noontide.

She is enjeweled in shadowy sounds, as she sails the tumultuous sea.

-Johnny V.

Trust

I carry what's left of my dignity in my pocket like lost coins. For she has spent more than my minor trust could hold.

She treads clumsily across the dried hearts of previous lovers. Her walk remains undisturbed for her skill is   unequaled.

The boulevards are littered with those desperste for her wine flavored glance. Even when they understand it encludes drunken despair. For the wretch is too delicious to feed their empty hunger.

From above the sky changes her hue and rolls to sleep and exposes her darker sister. The doomed lovers with their teardashed eyes, empty,  and turned earthward, slowly gather the lost remains of forgotten tomorrows.

-Johnny V.