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" I Smote Thy Heart" 

by~ Richard Pickett

Upon the morrow, I shall take aim
with this slender feathered shaft at the heart of thee,
it shall pierce thee in the coldest of manners. Thou shalt
know from whence it came. From my sorrow, said sorrow
left upon me by the daggers of thy withered soul.
Beguiled by thy mask of innocence,that thee wore
as brilliantly as the Barrister, pleading before the magistrate.
Thou shalt plead mercy of passion, I once possessed only for thee,
that I remove the bolt from thy heart. Yet... I shall smite thee,till
thy blood runs as cold as the stone upon whence thy lie. 


by~ Poet Destroyer

Strike on whom my ears deceive,
your sadness pierce ye 3 times therefore.
Straight liketh dagger of dragon teeth under thy heart.
A grace alone thou sprouted in remoteness ways. 
If it ware not thy heart, ye fancy, into thy face
I have besidis all thy pain 
No thing to want if it ware not Mad 
Hold on to all things even as ye see, in every angle.
Nothing doth matter; thy aim shall endeth all sorrow
I have founded but makis me happiest thou ever was, 
Thou shall not beggeth, taketh the dagger
Now thou its to late, smote thee very slowly
Thee hath my heart in deep shallow waters  ; 
Bloody lips do what ye list and dredge thee not
Smote thy heart, I care not,
Love whom ye forget, my sweet innocence.
Wherefore I pray mercy or shall not.
But love whom ye fear no God,
Do what must, 
My tears shed thousands of grains of sand.
Morrow, will soon cometh, shall I hold
as you taketh away, from your
~ Femme' Fatal ~

A collaboration with * Richard Pickett

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