Guitar Instrumental.

I recently created a guitar instrumental with both rhythm and lead parts. It is currently untitled, but its genre delves into, I suppose, flamenco and a bit of folk country. I recorded each section and layered it together through Soundtrap. The guitar model I use is an acoustic-electric Fender CD-60SCE, the strings I use are […]

Read More

death’s bouquet.

in womb, the fingers of tree an ancestress trunk in sects of strife, as born and lived through roots like fossil teeth, pressing to death’s bouquet in November’s winds; shackled in ebbs and flows, mosaics of flattered seas are astray, where they are now writhing for their shamed skeletons; they are conches swayed, rocking for […]

Read More

la mausoleum

Perfume loring, turning and hedged to the skulled moon. It was a death-sentence oneiric to the autumn. It was symbolic as the little boy put his dirty shoes on my guitar case (and I said nothing), I felt atrophy of either the red koi flowers or the moon and I drowned to the moon herselflike […]

Read More

in their dying, in their shadows.

In their dying in their shadows I will see your eyes. As the blood-flow             of living things, dear white shells and white bone fall into the ground, mama’s bony fingers             whiten the earth,                                     where all else fades and leaves; daddy glissades in the ice             picking flowers for us all, and soon […]

Read More

my flowers do die.

my fingers trace / against the stone my flowers do die; ephialtes / in the shadows of / a deathbed / baby’s breath / a dream / threnody / & breast my flowers die in my garden, / mouthing / pseudo-ashes of the moonrise. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. This piece was inspired by […]

Read More

of memory.

I am dream-bound      to the weeping mother of an ocean shore, my shadow is darker      than the prose tree of mind and desire           a prospect of inner lunacy and death;      the clam’s mouth is lighter between the sun, into the silence of blue willows      to the inmost bones of creation […]

Read More

Forgotten (to silence).

Stare at the ceiling, I am an afterthought, dreams cast forgotten memories in twilight’s tongue rivaling alone the silence of the world that pretends to be still, when it’s fucking not; I wake in the room alone, I intend to sleep; in weakness, the oeuvre is loneliness as it slips bloodily on begotten words undefined […]

Read More

Mother.

A/N: This poem is dedicated to my mother, along with this instrumental I created to go along with it. I am adjunct to birth and death. Undraped, I emerge from womb—a pupa I barely cried, it was a spring birthday when it should have been an aqueous summer dream. Sense flees me before the world even […]

Read More

Deadzone.

A/N: Another piece I wrote for an instrumental I created on Soundcloud. Check it out here. Early blooms rise at six axed in pale winter, a tumor of silence; in the white blossoms, fresh snow falls the night paradise lost into the womb and raid of memory, forgotten in the mist  we entreat. A temporal […]

Read More

Do you remember?

A/N: Wrote this piece for a soundtrack I recently created. You can check it out here on Soundcloud. rye blows in the wind we have waited hidden in the dead valleys, broken upon the strange pale shore, open in a blue vapor over deprived sense what do I feel? I want to forget it all. I […]

Read More

Collaboration Poem Ends In One Week.

Hello and Happy Earth Day everyone. I hope you are all doing well and safe wherever you are. There is only one week left until my poem collaboration closes. The theme concerns of freedom, how it impacts you, and what it means to you. It is a collaborative effort from the WordPress Community to create […]

Read More

Eternal.

A feather lifts into the asters, Made known to the wind Teeming with a protestation Of what awaits to be quelled Eternally in this infinity, This sacrifice that slips from the dark, Settles into a river barely seen. Permeating from frosty caresses Sliding off the rock, And back into the cool, The bare of winter, […]

Read More

Throughout our dark minds.

Amber sunbeams stayed in my dreams; and I recalled whispers throughout our dark minds—autumn when our eyes met; The reverie of the cold entwines us in deferred reveries, in ambrosial shadows. The planet reaps Mosaic stars in backlit born reflections; we will plant a bowl of bluets by the fireside to recollect our love. © […]

Read More

Valhalla. (Prose)

It is in the beige evening by the willows and a café restaurant with the golden leaves and their shards on the grounds, covered in a cleansed rain. It is in the illumination of shatters that broke beyond the pale sky that not only writhes among itself, but will be only among a frail sight […]

Read More

Half-Frost.

Keep your dead lilies, Two reared seeds. And the crisp red triste Of a cherry blossom Grows by the peas, Of the blue afterglow On the sameness of his laugh. As red wallops stifled cicada wood, The epistle chokes in the water; it’s been awhile. Scurf of a half Frost; marked their caged, primped words […]

Read More

Frail River (A Wasteland).

A lit flame upon the stitched rag of shore, Which pales upon the blossoms of a winter rose, I think of a frail dream with Greek souls and song, That slightly breathed through the muted shore. When will it part? These cold rivers are of a marred red, And will discard to the faintest breath […]

Read More

Shadowed Skies That Plum.

Shadowed skies that plum. The heart of infants, a strum, Moved through bristles of walking wind Kissed the small valley dell, And I’d dwell through lonesome seas. I missed the dead tribunal moon, As it gazed above some deaf winds; Slipped through the river stream, With instant buds of a morning desire, And I’d wake […]

Read More

Must I Un-Wish?

(Must I un-wish?) The rash of the Hebrides, and its wrath, The son of lands, and lands amazed, That sheer a composition, in the fair hands, Of Mendelssohn that grown from the stems, And tendrils, furtive maelstrom in sound, And bearing without a formal syntax, (Must I un-wish, and wish again?) Skins, music skins and […]

Read More

Of This I Find.

Gust, each upon the lot, and they tower And belonging to the night, the rhapsodic whispers. I had walked and walked, The faint air upon the dark, dark thin and frail lot; Midnight, and I bother, To think of such things, And I’ve only just begun as a wisher from the bare influence Of velleities, […]

Read More