SOME LADYDUST POETRY

WILL YOU DIE FOR ME?

A poem accompanying #Chapter21 of #LadydustTheBook

"Anarchy gathered on her thighs,

Death smiled upon her breasts.

I used to be a cat, you know.

The painter cast a glance at the curtain—

The Twin Towers were in flames.

She posed behind them,

Dark eyeliner on her lids,

A thunderstorm in her eye.

Will you die for me?

A jeweled moon caressed the sky,

Killer whales beneath its silver veil.

What will remain of the leopards?

I must bury this stranger.

He kept visiting me in the past.

Beautiful blue eyes,

A lizard’s smile.

I know he loved me.

Will you die for me?

The plane rushed toward the first tower.

Quick breaths—flashes.

Roses bloomed in foreign soil.

His song on the radio.

More thunder.

More flashes.

All love must die".

Ladydust, 25/9/14

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AGORAPHOBIA

Where have they taken us?

To the other side of morning.

Oh, that poem.. Again and again.

How many more times till the dawn?

It's round and infinite.

You know, most belong here.

They've been here but they do not remember.

They've been here but they still do not remember.

I remember seagulls

and the desert.

Majestic sunsets covering disease.

Masturbating girls in the 70's at the sight of rainbows.

I remember the ocean.

A butterfly flattering her wings,

rain was created, snow, storms ever after.

I remember forests, endless forests.

The world was not made to be discovered.

Hippies waving their green arms to tomorrow.

A parade of soldiers marching to death,

Cheering, Trumpets.

A velvet bus with runaways heading to north.

We always knew there was another model of things.

Sweet laughter, kisses, pearls, replaced wisdom.

The world was purple and infinite.

The camera was still catching everything.

They were all feeling awe for the camera.

Incredible situation.

Thousands of ambitions in and out of its lenses.

"I have agoraphobia", the girl said.

Ladydust, 25/9/14

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VERTIGO

Upon the shelves, between the bookmarks,

where thought's nobility takes root,

a maiden leans into the pulse of worlds unseen,

weaving with quite defiance

the myth of undoing the chains of old.

Beyond the window of her father's library

a roma girl drifts,

her breath a fleeting blasphemy

dissolving against the unbidden hunger of a man's desire.

The vertigo of their meeting-

a fevered duel of glances,

a silent tempest in the space between.

A diamond gleams from a thousand facets,

yet all return to the same searing light.

No crimson tomorrow can ever replace the marvelously full grey of today.

Ask those who postponed their joy-

they were found drawing their last breath on the final step of waiting.

Ask what became of the lovers of fulfillment,

those who clinked their glasses in its name.

Ask the lovers how the dawn found them.

Ask me what compels me to pen these verses.

12/03/25

Ladydust, 25/9/14

_______________________________________________________________________________ INEVITABILITY

The windows let in faint orange glows from the streetlights,

casting long shadows on the floor, drawing halos on your skin.

Night is wrapped around you like a velvet curtain, soft and forgiving.

Outside, the city murmurs in distant hums.

Near you, everything stills.

No words, they can only break the spell.

My fingers tracing your collarbone, like reading a secret script into you.

My hand on your heart, memorizing its sound.

No rush, no undoing, just powerful recognition.

Holding you as something holy.

Not asking.

Not demanding.

Just inviting.

Falling for you is a tide pulled by an ancient force older than memory -

just pure inevitability.

2/05/25

Ladydust, 25/9/14

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MAJESTIC

Purple stereotypes projected onto human wishes.

Yawning horses, eternal jesters laughing at dawn—

a spectacle for the ambitious disease.

Yes, the world was awash in sparkling shades,

but only one bore the silver sheen

of clouds after a storm.

Hope—an overestimated feeling.

Do you remember when dust had no definition?

Remember how it felt—

beyond the senses,

beyond the sour taste of circling that mirrored path again and again?

A vicious thing, expectation.

Expect both the expected and the unexpected.

And love.

Expect love.

Destroy, and be destroyed by everyone.

Oh—

it rains again, gently, on our heads.

For a moment,

curiosity healed time and space.

In this Babylonian field,

the trees alone screamed—

branches marrying abyss to gravity’s edge.

Everything was new,

and forgotten at the same time.

We once loved that wasted western feeling—

peace, disordered,

rising from the thick line

where the horizon split

from human disguise along the highways.

We cherished the doubt behind our steps—

each move, both significant and insignificant.

We loved the whispers

dancing in the embassy of brain cells.

All of it—

majestic,

in an unconscious way.

Ladydust, 25/9/14

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THE MYTHS

They travelled far—

crossed the vast desert,

rushed into the angry oceans,

vanished into the thick darkness

that cloaks the tallest jungle trees,

covered their faces with stars.

They didn’t blink an eye at their loved ones,

ignored all of tomorrow’s dawns,

forgot about poetry,

truth and lies,

history, politics, races,

children, books, and thought.

Is there a silver place to weep now—

sheltered from the moving light,

away from the constant wisdom of the streets,

away from the surrounding nothingness

and its purple shadow on our souls?

Is there a place

near the beggars,

the raped,

near the smiling unborn

and the everlasting fools?

Is there such a place?

Ladydust, 25/9/14

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ILLUSIONS

Never was anything as true as illusions. Sifting through the infinite, you could find golden traces of them in all the unexpected positions of the electron, within the cracks of "reality"— but most of all, in the uninhabited. Their reign was undisputed in the temple of human thought. The senses were their most loyal subjects. Their true name was "code." On the chessboard of the mind, they were the bishop’s pawn, facing the knight’s doubt. Radical and eternal, they mocked matter and scorned mathematics. But they loved children and madmen. Yes, those were to their liking.

Ladydust, 25/9/14

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THE END OF THE FAIRY TALE

It was carried by those eyelids—

their clumsy exchange redefined the axis

like a crowned illusion.

They did not weigh down

like a proper social photocopy of an era;

-on the contrary,

they measured the infinite

and released it at once,

back into the everlasting.

Diametrically opposed to the proper margins,

beyond the limits of the frame,

far from the dwarf-shadows of cold desire,

where truth stands alone—

naked,

stripped of any pretense of glory,

in the place

where strength is the twin of weakness and mercy,

relative of nothingness,

-of here

and of there.

LADYDUST 17/06/2025

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OF THE SHIFTING SELF AND THE RIVER THAT KNOWS

What is identity, if not the echo of being left unshaped?

Not a title, nor a garment sewn from borrowed names,

but the soft glimmer of essence—fluid, formless, and ever true.

There lies a bond, ancient as the breath of stars,

unspoken yet eternal—

a sacred tether where all things move in mirrored grace,

each gesture returning with the same silent weight with which it was given.

The senses swell and spill like a river,

not bound by one shore but held between two,

its waters caressing both banks as lovers once divided by the dusk.

And ah—there—

she emerges.

Not in light, but in presence.

Unseen, the soul seeps through syllables half-formed,

through symmetrical pauses that speak louder than sound,

through the trembling hush of what is not said.

And this name—

how it rings in that quietude,

a name that frees itself from meaning and becomes music.

It is neither wholly here nor wholly gone—

a half-presence that deepens absence.

And yet, in such vanishing,

it remains.

All things breathe of fear, and of dream.

And time, that strange and sleepless serpent,

does not walk forward—

it spirals.

It sings in circles without birth or grave,

and in its turning,

we meet again.

Ladydust 8-7-2025

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