April Avalon

Cavalcadeofstars welcomes April Avalon this week for your enjoyment. Sit back and read a while.

Crimson And Black
By April Avalon

I’d sell my heart in paperback,
In verses for perverts to read.
The crimson lines look good on black,
Just like the world behind my lids.

For crimson is my poisoned blood
You’d never want to mix with yours,
For black is my denying heart
That’s stained with lies and dead remorse.

Erase my love and drain my mind
Until my memory is void,
I want to be completely blind
To every trifle I enjoyed.

Your gentle touch is like a burn –
I play pretend I’m fine with heat.
I’ve reached the point of no return,
I find my peace in self-deceit.

By April Avalon

I’ve turned to an actress regardless my will, Life’s poignant scenario brought me the skill.
Performing, I find the salvation
In changing my costumes and masks.
It keeps my true guise ever changing in turn, The art of arranging’s not easy to learn, It’s more than just bright decorations.
I’ve handled a difficult task.

I fear the thunder, still dance in the rain, The gloomy surrounders claim I’m insane, Not seeing the sense in its absence – The actress is always to blame!
My tragical comedies last for a while,
Erasing the concepts “the truth” and “a guile.”
Deceiving the evident essence,
I’m playing this innocent game.

I speak every language of pleasure and grief, I’ve heard every rumor you spread and believe.
Well, I am the subject this season,
In fact I am proud of it.
I’m nursing the thought they keep talking of me, Quite happy to seem a discover-to-be For no particular reason Except such a playful deceit.

Triangles of half-open doors
Reveal all the truth that is hidden:
Just condoms and cans on the floor,
Black papers with verses, forbidden –
Unfinished remakes of the song,
Deprived of the right to speak loud
Of wicked intentions gone wrong –
Erasers have muffled the shout.

The only illusion-proof mind –
A poet, the voice of despair,
Sincere, the one of this kind
Throws verses far into the air
Right there, in a dirty old flat
Among once great talents, now rotten.
They all have deserved more than that,
But even their names are forgotten.

Fate And Fortune
By April Avalon

This northern city with headlights-eyes
Has buried me in its cold and gloom;
You’ll see this place in a dreadful guise And once sweet home will seem a tomb Once you’re aware there’s no way out, Once dreams of youth say goodbye and grin.
It goes farther and makes me doubt
In all the things I have ever seen.
Its blood has turned into ice and snow – It’s endless winter in every heart.
The winds of grief never cease to blow,
The art of grief is the greatest art.

And once in this cradle of dirt and despair A wandering stranger demanded my mind.
He asked me about this damned northern air I’d better not breathe – I would leave it behind.
He said: “I’m in love with this misery, miss.
Destruction is right what we need to create.
True art is in grief, I’ve been dreaming of this.
My yesterday’s fortune’s tomorrow’s fate.
I know all secrets my destiny knows,
So this boring dwelling won’t be a surprise.”
I thought: “He’s my twin, and it clearly shows.”
That evening he opened my widely shut eyes.

A perfect stranger has built a wall
To be a shield from this gloom and lies, From endless rains of this city’s gall That falls on me from the shattered skies.
The wave of feelings can warm the days
Of dull existence in Bitterland
And melt the ice in this rotten place,
In every heart that it’s due to mend.
This northern city with headlights-eyes
Has turned us down in its nasty voice
And… brought together. We’ve paid the price Of fate to fortune. We’ve made the choice.

By April Avalon

I’m looking around and searching you there, The bright prospect lights only frown as I stare, My heart’s getting lost in the shatters.
I know you’ll pick them all up when you come, And I’ll never mind if you steal at least some, Just keep them, and nothing else matters.

Those white and green lights got my secret revealed, I’ll write it all down and cherish it sealed, One day it will find destination.
Whoever discovers the mystery penned,
They won’t guess a word, I have got it all planned, This madness becomes my salvation.

The eyes of the suburbs will warm and appease My heart, ever-aching, with evident ease.
Your look in the window still shows.
It’s fixed in the soul, it’s fixed in the glass, This moment can linger for good either pass, It’s changing. Well, destiny knows.

By April Avalon

The pleasure to speak is my lost privilege, And now insanity dwells on a page, However, it’s changing the color in days, Revealing the truth my white pencil portrays.

But I’m getting sick of the poetess’ fate, I only enliven the worlds you create, Denying the myths you don’t want to believe, Or perpetuate every side of my grief.

Today it’s triangular, soon to be square, Or even linear, in case you are there, You skillfully play with my changeable mood, I’d steal such a talent from you if I could.

I paint the reality, live in a dream,
Duality kills me, I just want to scream, I’ll find the salvation when holding you close I’ll speak of my feelings and keep them in prose.

A Desperate City
By April Avalon

Hello to you from the gray gloomy city,
Where crowds unconsciously worship despair, Indulging in dangers of constant self-pity With naive belief in the world’s being fair.

They have no trust in a man’s inner power, And fortitude sounds like something unknown.
They have no poets, just ones of an hour, Who drown at once in the thoughts of their own.

With greed they consume plain illusions for dinner, And dress them with lies when they serve the new dishes To those so-called ‘pathological sinners’
Who find someone else’s delusions delicious.

They have Friday liter-mates rather than friends To mark that the week of no favor is ending, But even with glasses of spirits in hands They look worse than misery. Are they pretending?

April A. has been writing for five years, getting inspiration from various experiences seen by the eyes of a thinker. The purpose of her creativity is urging people to see beyond the bounds, to be themselves, to speak their minds loud, not to be afraid to differ from the crowd. She creates to destroy. To destroy the naive beliefs. To destroy the stereotypes.

If you enjoyed my poetry and want to read some more as well as get acquainted with my lyrics and biography, you are welcome to visit my official website:



About vision791

Pushcart nominee Jeanette Cheezum has been published on several online writing sites and in fifteen Anthology books and four poetry books. Three of these books have made the New York Times Best Sellers list. Awarded The Helium Networks Premium Writer’s Badge, Bronze Creative Writing Award and a Marketplace Writers award. Recently she has published fourteen ebooks at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. You may find a list of some of her work at www.hamptonroadswriters.org
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2 Responses to April Avalon

  1. Angel Zapata says:

    Raw, honest, passionate beauty. I love, love Crimson and Black.

  2. vision791 says:

    April, it was a pleasure to have you debut at cavalcadeofstars. I wish you well with your song writing also.

Comments are closed.