Sonnet Of The Boy Band Factory Sara L. Russell aka PinkyAndrexa
It's midnight at the Boy Band Factory Five individuals shuffle into view They're interviewed, then scrubbed clean as can be To be the preconditioned chosen few.
First their hair is shorn of rocker's locks Then legs and arms summarily unscrewed Replaced with dancing limbs from a dark box To conjour a more funky attitude.
Then each boy's brain is carefully replaced With a brand new one in a smaller size New voice boxes are wired and interlaced To interact with mouths, in their new guise.
It's one a.m., and now the boys rehearse To nail art to the cross of crass commerce.
Oh come, my love, my soft and sleek, the hawk moth glides in sultry shade and love's deep thirst has made me weak; come out and hear my serenade.
The moon-spun clouds shimmer and glide and fur flies in the alleyways, oh come and walk the Great Outside, come out to me and feast your gaze!
I am a fine and fluffsome thing my silken flanks shiver for you, love, come outside and hear me sing; my voice is resonant and true.
Come now, come now, peruse the night, come let me kiss your russet hair and we will dance in amber light, and our music will shake the air.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
A Vampire Tale In 4 sonnets, by Pinky Andrexa (aka Sara L. Russell) 2/6/03
I
A vampire's spun of dust and frailty, Condemned to shun the healing light of day; No innocent first kiss for such as he, No cross to keep his own demons away.
He's poised in shadow, by the lady's bed, Fixated by her flawless, youthful skin, Her fragile throat beneath her dreaming head, Translucent, showing pale blue veins within.
"And will I lift the curtain of thy hair, And on thy pale white bosom, stoop to feed? If thou wakest to find me sleeping there Would there be retribution for my greed?"
She does not hear his whispered litany. He stoops to feed, in silent ecstasy.
II
Her blood intoxicates him right away. His head is reeling; he is feeling strange. She's tasted claret earlier that day, Surfiet of wine has caused her blood to change.
Inebriated now, he starts to yawn, As gently, like a cradle, the room sways. He's mindful he must not linger till dawn, Yet down he lies and, dozing, there he stays.
Wild dreams of parties fill his sozzled mind: Of sanguinary crimes, of flying free, Of hanging upside down with his own kind, In places that the sun will never see.
As if thrown from a lofty height, he lies. Beside him, she has opened her blue eyes.
III
The lady does not turn her drowsy head At first, but when she does, stifles a cry. The ashen youth beside her appears dead, With bloodied lips; until he seems to sigh,
Whereon his mouth curves into a half-smile, His wanton eyebrows flicker as he dreams. She settles down to watch him for a while, How very dark and dangerous he seems!
"And will I lift the curtain of thy hair And on thy handsome throat, alight to feed? If thou wakest to find me lying there, Wouldst thou be angry, or rejoice to bleed?"
Did I say that? She wonders, feeling odd, She gives her new sharp canine teeth a prod.
IV
He wakes, looks up - and she is looking down. Her wide blue eyes betray none of her fears. He stares at her, his hand raised to his crown (He's not had such a hangover for years).
Gaze locks to gaze; they cannot turn away, He falls into her eyes, she into his, Then there is nothing left to do or say Until they have exchanged a tender kiss.
Now comes her father, thumping up the stairs, The vampire turns, in dreamy half-surprise, Lifting her up, and, overturning chairs, Leaps to the window sill; fire in his eyes.
"You're mine now, little one" She hears him say. One more leap - and she's spirited away.
In Abby's room the shadows slowly spin deforming and re-forming in the air shape-shifting with the subtlety of djinn enveloping her dolls, and tattered bear.
In Abby's room a chair stands up askance revolving in a stately arabesque, grim faces come and go where dust motes dance, as unseen hands open and close the desk.
The door is always locked to Abby's room, All sudden noise is left as unexplained, No cut flowers in this house will ever bloom, Rarely are any house guests entertained.
When darkness writhes, when silence seems to roar, Tread cautiously when passing Abby's door.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
RECLAIM THE SKY (for Elisabeth Fritzl) Sara L. Russell, May 11th, 2008
Reclaim the sky, the shape of every cloud, The gradient of sunsets, red to gold; Release the thoughts you dared not say aloud, Relinquish fears too terrible to hold.
If we could buy a mansion by the sea With miles of free horizon in full view, Where comorants, like girls' daydreams, fly free, Elisabeth, we'd give it all to you.
You ran away, he dragged you back again - All those who knew were too afraid to say. He built a home of drudgery and pain, Where daydreams never see the light of day.
Through courage you are now at liberty; Reclaim yourself and find serenity.
Pandora Opens The Box by Sara L. Russell aka PinkyAndrexa Pandora slipped her hands onto the lid Merely intending one clandestine peep, And as she lifted, monsters of the id Slowly began arising from their sleep.
Cruelty flew out over less wakeful beasts, Heedless of tortured screams rising from Hell; Diseases followed, with unholy priests And lowly demons, sprung from Satan's well.
They came with noisy, flapping leathern wings, With coils of questing tendrils, seeking prey, All of the most unsavoury of things Crawled, flew or slithered to the light of day.
It seemed that all was lost to evil's shame, Until hope ventured out, to speak her name.
Notes: This sonnet has been quoted a lot in comments on MySpace, not always by people who know me. I like the fact that it made an impression on them, and that they are quoting it to friends.
