400
This resurrection of perfection dates back to Greek mythology by the way of my philosophy
Modern day psychology with a specialized urban gothic twist the list goes on another notch on the belt of Orion living on Mt. Zion she is a lioness walking the west African plains, a man-eater if famished became famous in one day immortalized her name for fame and fortune a reoccurring dream of destiny’s child revered her presence and the beauty of her smile this wild flower only grows in fertile soil the seed planted strategically and precisely amongst the mundane so what’s in a name I guess everything you need to know about this old soul the greatest story ever told she sold her morals for a pair of Louis Vuitton stiletto’s size 7 in Purple red bottoms didn’t show the blood on the floor just the click clack of her steps retraced the murder scene so grizzle indeed she wrote a happier ending to many skeleton’s in her closet best kept secrets named Vicki she’s strictly ly in these trying times but always open minded to well-kept dimes she closes the blinds to her penthouse condo in the clouds and repeats these lines out loud to inner conscious just to reminisce on her accomplishments because she’s real, giving you something that you can feel like En Vogue she holds on to untouched souls and broken hearts so cold the story unfolds in due time silently screaming into the deaf ears of the hysterically blind
This personification of words of wisdom has changed her name to Sophia the sophisticated debutant to flaunt the rant and rave of making men her slave if they misbehave her S&M tactics are not meant for the weak at heart she will let you know that from the start we sparred over cotton candy until we both grew tired I admired her will and passion for the sport she took my hand and was flattered so nothing else mattered forgetting the ones that betrayed my heart and left me alone in the dark her spark was so bright it was putting a hurting on my eyesight broken wings took flight and never came down from the top floor of the world looking a thousand stories down a velvet revolver so I ask her ”Is this too much for such a pristine woman?” she giggles to herself in amusements and replies "Surely you just, must have me mixed up with all your other Jezebels." that really didn’t sit well upon the lap of a King wearing the crown like a merciless Ming of a Wu-Tang dynasty the very thing that most wish for you already have is that because you finally took off the mask and revealed the true identity of verbal insanity is it me? Or ….hold on, I won’t say anymore…
So Since she’s been gone I’ve been having withdrawals but I really can’t tell she was my bad habit in my urban hang suite like Maxwell I sell dreams to those with no vision write songs in these poems if they take the time to listen my excellent mission is a never-ending story of enhanced fantasy of urban gothic poetry in many ways a modern day Hemingway like Andre 3000 stories written to perfection the resurrection of an immortal imagination I gave her diamonds and pearls that she can wear or sell if she chose she said “This situation is Dangerous” just like so many before -she’s good at being bad, but bad at being good, not a bad girl but just misunderstood just like a fictional character in a grocery store romance novel that isn’t real writing that bull just to pay the bills, my thrill gives chills to the female persuasion dangerous liaisons of an everyday reoccurrence she ask? “Will it always be this way?” I didn’t answer just looked away -the fate of the inevitable is detrimental to the perfectly sane, I’m like Michael Angelo painting the Sistine chapel genius strokes finishing up a masterpiece but please don’t take this literally because it’s just - Anastasia’s fantasy…
© 2015 GS Poetry | Lazarus owns the copyright to this poem. All right reserved.
