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The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.
the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a
Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.
PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint
with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free
SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.
Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain
Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon  
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how
Puppet  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.
Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.  
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min
A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even
Why meI wanted sleep very badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.
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More from *LancelotPrice

blissthe Chocolate floods the land
pouring down from the great cake doughnut in the sky
creme-filled
the land is drowning
sweetness floating the people in happiness
I can stand it
I can stand it
I can take it in a little longer
but I know
I know sometime
I know sometime we're gonna die

gotta eat the doughnut
gotta make it to the sky
gotta sacrifice my everlasting bliss
or I'll never say another word
Romany dark forestRomany wandering through forest shadow and light. I hear the wolves howl outside up on a hill. Will they dare to enter among the trees where blades can slay and draw images with blood as the ancient violins and spirits play the ancient games full of meaning and empty of significance. Sliding... sliding.... the shadows and the fey lights intertwine with restless neverending glides quickly slowly soothingly shockingly... among the trees.

There. There a face aside the bark and behind the leaves. Oh. I see now. It is me. And it is you, my love. Come. Let us sing in the shadows and light forever.
Sundial without fearIn the garden of the great baroque chateau is a sundial made of travertine and bronze. The great dial spreads as wide as the arms of a large man. While the sun shines, the long shadow of the gnomon swings silently through the graded arc, ruling the lives of men with every crossing of the precisely incised lines.

But when the sun at last sinks to sleep, time stops.
The shadow rules man no more.

When the sun shall come again, no one can tell, but while it is gone, the moment lasts forever and anything is possible.

Lancelot Price
Black suit.Black suit. Secret murder. Something in the past a convoluted path to now and beyond justice and mercy flavoured with licorice and cinnamon and not a lot of sugar. White tie and violins playing a song of six-penny roses older than the church, older than the gravestones, older than the time before the henges but wearing a top hat and carrying a scepter still like Macbeth and his lady doing the old soft shoe on Duncan's grave while William builds ships for a long vacation in southern England. Picnic hampers once used in St. Tropez will come in handy. We'll use tapestries for saddle blankets on great black chargers loaded with food and champagne

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July 3, 2011
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persian cat

:iconlancelotprice:

persian cat
-----------

The grey and one-eyed  
persian cat  
hissed at me  
and at my hat  
It had tried to kill a sable once  
which cost an eye  
and lifelong rest  
A sable's an expensive beast  
The one that made my winter cap  
incensed the cat  
which smouldered yet  
as I passed by  
into the snowbound  
churchyard  
Stones were placed there  
in long and ragged rows  
Not like the ones in circles  
that seem like spirits  
of the earth  
speaking of ancient Scottish shores  
and Cambrian hills  
The rows were mirthless  
moss-grown signs of those  
who never quite lived free  
speaking of nothing  
ever  

nothing said to me  
whom once the buried  
tried to kill  

and whom they could not now  
deny  




Lancelot Price  2011 July 03
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:icon13liss:
~13liss Mar 27, 2013  New member Hobbyist Writer
Found this poem sad and yet the imagery was extremely beautiful and nice. One thing i would say is you might want to consider classifying it as spoken word, sounded really nice when i read it aloud.
Reply
:iconlancelotprice:
*LancelotPrice Mar 27, 2013
Everything I write is written to be read aloud, or at least heard in the mind as though it were in a voice. There should be a pause at every line break, and if I use them, commas. And I think classification should be abandoned as the most useless thing for writing ever. :D

Thanks for good thoughts. :)
Reply
:icon13liss:
~13liss Mar 27, 2013  New member Hobbyist Writer
Totally agree! My writing used to be extremely technical but i'm trying to abandon that for a more free flowing style. I think all the best writers are the ones who saw how others write, and completely ignored it! haha Good work anyways mate
Reply
:iconlancelotprice:
*LancelotPrice Mar 27, 2013
Thank you, sir. How do you pronounce> 13liss?
Reply
:icon13liss:
~13liss Mar 27, 2013  New member Hobbyist Writer
No prob. Strange question haha, 13=B so its Bliss as in a heavenly feeling. Ba-liss :)
Reply
:iconlancelotprice:
*LancelotPrice Mar 28, 2013
It's not strange if one doesn't know what it means. :D Thanks. :)
Reply
:icon13liss:
~13liss Mar 28, 2013  New member Hobbyist Writer
Haha true, well now you do :D
Reply
:iconkatarthis:
*katarthis Jun 30, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Spoke to me today, this did.

k
Reply
:iconlancelotprice:
*LancelotPrice Jun 30, 2012
Glad it did something for you, k. Thanks for commenting and for faving. :)
Reply
:iconszografos:
~SZografos Sep 5, 2011
Weeping, no unseemly display
in view of sights like these.
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