THINE EYES!

October 14, 2020

Compressed black and swallowed, it lays buried inside a canvas of melted, foolish lines.

Busted color leaked into solidarity on an open pupil.

Trapped inside a fluxing current smudged with bereavement and the blissful madness in-bedded from

the gluttony of au courant moments, moments true and peeled,

moments rotted and soiled in the profoundness bathing inside the ticking unanimity of ones own mind; visible existence.

And oh the things it bares witness to;

Transportive passions spun into the playful minds of eager architects.

Mid-summer sky’s, boiling, smiling, scolding the skin.

How it exchanges the dreams planked inside the weary tear ducts of tepid cooling clouds.

And blackness, born from a speechless space, an alchemistic abyss;  one third of our lives.

What paradise finds home inside these jello eyes?

For it is they that wrote this, not I.

Eyes of white,

Eyes of gold,

Courted and neatly trimmed by the thoughts of Michael Angelo.

These glinting, darting, dancing eyes,

Why they have no option but to nebulously sink, in occasion, behind the squint of suspicious lids.

Safeguarded at all times.

But while they remain veiled beneath weakened lids,

They remain open,

fixated inside the belly of a crepuscular night;

 They do not sleep.

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The Wilderness

October 8, 2020

Wild?
It is but civil.

Scattered trees whose nails are painted in rose buds and thorns
Waving inside the lofty breath of rushed and waited wind.
Quiet, its weathered lids, canopies above
your quick-flirting eyes.


And you,
You cannot woo it, even should you try.


For it is the wild that drowns unmerciful structures.
It doe not speak through electrical wires and erect thumbs;
Nor does deal in self-devouring gold.
Crowned in the mirth of a quintessential performance,
It’s self-invigorated

As the rivers do not mind you, or me.
Above we see mere clutter, but below,
Below its all one grand parade.
Organized, processions of  apple roots, warm clay and leaves, as emerald as eyes,
journeying to drink beneath sun-bathing water lilies.
This rivers skin, reflective and teary eyed, like bottled wine drunk on light,
it absorbs EVERYTHING.

And this,
THIS is my wilderness!

Mad, its barks reveals its pouting veins buried beneath wrinkled moss.
Its ceremonial quirks, and exiled sounds,
They twirl and turn and take me.
Somehow transforming corrosive syllables into brilliant, soundless, swishing waves.

Here, one has not a choice but to listen & behave.

Men of Great Stature

September 27, 2020

Paintings & poem By: MAGNOLIA LAFLEUR


Where are these men of great stature?

Whose voices disrupt built tension.
Lilac Lips soft with bones of timber that bring the heart to ascension.

Oh wonderous creature, muscled flesh and breathing hair, like blowing grass set a fire by a desperate prayer.

In the day, his logic & legs planked, firm like cedar, a focused dance with one direction,
but at night, billowing from the belly of his heart,
he folds into my arms where we lay with no part, mere perfection.

Honorable, his tounge forged with the stone from the tablet of Moses.
His eyes, ignited glass.
The color: pointed asphalt with a surrounding earth filament of tungsten wire
capturing not just face, but heart and mine own desires;

My lids, they close.
I am his,
of this he knows.

Your gentle hands, the craftmanship
Carved to hold me with one tight grip.

Rib torn for me, mine ears split for thee, summoned love born in the fashion of caterpillars floating from drunkard jars, colored wings detailed in the memories of future days of ours.

Cavernous, captivating and capsizing; You- These were the words that spilt from my veins, unraveled my nerves from start, when first your flesh paid heed to my thirsting heart.

The beginning and end of me,
a happy birth, and even happier death I do foresee.

And such a handsome face, salted or water fresh,
as I lick your lips to swallow the tears built in joy or in your fears, to refresh.
And you to me? I recall you saying, I was your tonic, your jubilee.

So are you that man of stature?
Finally come home.
Asleep no more, caught inside my dream catcher?

Tis it not your decision to make?
To have the courage to stay awake.
“Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.”
To love, to kiss, please more.

What is Bliss?

September 14, 2018

 

But to have ones heart saturated with all the best ingredients.

Chocolate powder, swirled into crystal cubed, brown sugar bumps.

Mixed with chilled white milk and

Stirred inside endless clarity;

Only to be baked into a soft edible fever.

Coated with crying, frothed cream,

just happy to be apart of something.

Half-done, half- raw, half -baked, all-together.

Dreaming of filling in the space  of unsealed lips.

If for nothing else, isn’t this why we exist?

 

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 By: Magnolia
 

Shut Eyes Kept Breath

July 5, 2013

That’s where she existed best.

In the dark, in the light, high upon the rafters,

Perched above the clamor of civilization.

Where fog embraces light in the form of bulbous clouds.

Where the pangs of sorrow are dulled by the atmospheric civility that only floating can offer.

Where tears find home in rain,

Calmness in the breath of nothing,

and stillness in the charm of fluttered roses.

And just the mere possibility of all this, that desire to break free from skin,

It cruised beneath her heart and pushed against limp veins.

Like leather tightly wound against screaming bones,

She felt the itch of wanting to escape;

To melt past rattling walls and bursting bubbles.

But only with shut eyes and kept breath could she find the courage to leap.

And spinning in the solitary moment of her first step was truth flashing upon somber lids.

It was in the rain,

It was in the wind,

It was in the beat of the sun

and in every crater of the moon.

She was interwoven in the bliss of this deserted place.

Every night bathing in the light of the stars

And every morning dancing with a flock of wings.

In her despair she had surrendered to the dream and found triumph in the crux of her soul.

Pirouetted in the divinity of absolute mirth, alas she was home.

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On the way home, in the midst of his evening bustle

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His hand griped at the lament buried inside his hearts muscle

hand on heart

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Wilted and torn he took off his blues and remained in the dress for which he was born.

Pondering in the stillness of feeling lost and lovelorn.

“Lovers”      “ Orpheus’ Sorrow  (1876)  ”  by  Pascal Adolphe Jean Dagnan-BouveretThanks to Laberintosyquimeras  for posting this wonderful image

Like a gold fish witnessing the sea while concealed in a transparent cage,

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He never quite felt he fit in his world.

Always yearning, waiting, transfixed on clock hands, tic tocked and twirled.

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Meanwhile, wedged inside his genius was the menacing feeling of a half-filled cup.

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For when he was little; he knew he was meant to be big.

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So, wishing by the sea & moon, he sat on a nest of twigs

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Transient figures, like neon signs burned between the dark sky’s

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Reflecting each tear in his dreaming, uneasy eyes.

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With tremulous cords and vacuous hands he let go and dove in.

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Splashed beneath the film of water, cutting the deep horizons, were two feline eyes with petrified black feathered lashes.

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Unable to look away, he felt the warmth of his veins cooled by her pale as corpse hand

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In hypnotic awe he studied her lips, shaped with the figure of the crescent moon

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And her blythe batting lids, concealing double helix eyes, they compressed and released to the drum of his heart.

Dazed with curiosity, he allowed her lips to expand his chest & surrendered, they swam.

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They past childhood sand-castles, faint, white dried roses, tiered Polaroids and running crayons.

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Intrigued but perplexed nonetheless, till his eyes set upon Cherub Caliel, crying and withdrawn.

And as he approached extended hand and comfort unfolded, the cherub quickly turned and said,

“Awake ye now and rid thyself of death and dolefulness, that I can feel heavy upon thy heart”

Bewildered he looked for the siren that led him, but fled she had, and stuck he was.

Turned back, and before his eyes, the cherub decomposed into a plume of red & green dust.

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Swallowed by smoke, swollen iris and startled heart he screamed, “I want out!”

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Treading and manic, he began to run out of air when the siren re-appeared,

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She quipped,”You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger my darling.”

He screamed “I need air!”

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Appearing to rescue but merely passing by, an octopus flushed in red, said, “So wake up.”

As he began to swim up, panicked, he found his feet tethered to the ground.

The sea became more turbulent and a tiger vehement in speech said, “So wake up!”

As he struggled he suddenly found he was not a captive of the ocean but enslaved inside his own tub.

And a final vision of the Siren appeared whispering, “When you desire happiness as you have just desired air, then you will have it.”

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Like an arrow to heart, her words struck him,

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And not all too sudden, his muscle embraced silence and thoughts vanished as  the bones in his back gallantly began an unraveling procession fixed on rapturous expansion.

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Freedom became he, as he floated, tenderly, above the sea,

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And the water slowly crept from chin to eyes, releasing him from self-demise.

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The next morning as he awoke, he found his back draped in wings and his heart cloaked in red

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And from his cage, he did not wonder nor did he wait, he stretched out his limbs & became a man, transcendent and magnate.

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Trapped Utopia & Unfettered Wings

By: Magnolia

On the way home, in the midst of his evening bustle,

His hand griped at the lament buried inside his hearts muscle.

Wilted and torn he took off his blues and remained in the dress for which he was born.

Pondering in the stillness of feeling lost and lovelorn,

Like a gold fish witnessing the sea while concealed in a transparent cage,

He never quite felt he fit in his world.

Always yearning, waiting, transfixed on clock hands, tic tocked and twirled.

Meanwhile, wedged inside his genius, was the menacing feeling of a half-filled cup.

For when he was little; he knew he was meant to be big.

So, wishing by the sea & moon, he sat on a nest of twigs.

Transient figures, like neon signs burned between the dark sky’s

Reflecting each tear in his dreaming, uneasy eyes.

So, with tremulous cords and vacuous hands he let go and dove in.

Splashed beneath the film of water, cutting the deep horizons, were two feline eyes with petrified black feathered lashes.

In hypnotic awe he studied her lips, shaped with the figure of the crescent moon

And her blythe batting lids, concealing double helix eyes, they compressed and released to the drum of his heart.

Unable to look away, he felt the warmth of his veins cooled by her pale as corpse hand.

Dazed with curiosity, he allowed her lips to expand his chest & surrendered they swam.

 They past childhood sand-castles, faint, white dried roses, tiered Polaroids and running crayons.

Intrigued but perplexed nonetheless, till his eyes set upon Cherub Caliel, crying and withdrawn.

And as he approached extended hand and comfort unfolded, the cherub whispered,

“Awake ye now and rid thyself of death and dolefulness, that I feel heavy upon thy living”

Bewildered he looked for the siren that led him, but fled she had, and stuck he was.

Turned back, and before his eyes, the cherub decomposed into a plume of red & green dust.

Swallowed by smoke, swollen iris and startled heart he screamed, “I want out!”

Treading and manic,l he began to run out of air when the Siren re-appeared,

She quipped,”You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger my darling.”

He screamed “I need air!”

Appearing to rescue but merely passing by, an octopus flushed in red, said, “So wake up.”

As he began to swim up, panicked he found his feet tethered to the ground.

The sea became more turbulent and a tiger vehement with speech said, “So wake up!”

As he struggled he suddenly found he was not a captive of the ocean but enslaved inside his own tub.

And a final vision of the Siren appeared whispering, “When you desire happiness as you have just desired air, then you will have it”.

Like an arrow to heart, her words struck him,

And not all too sudden, his muscle embraced silence and thoughts vanished as  the bones in his back gallantly began an unraveling procession fixed on rapturous expansion.

Freedom became he, as he floated, tenderly, above the sea,

And the water slowly crept from chin to eyes, releasing him from self-demise.

The next morning as he awoke, he found his back draped in wings and his heart cloaked in red

And from his cage, he did not wonder nor did he wait, he stretched out his limbs and became a man, transcendent and magnate.

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The Dancing Beasts Illusions

November 21, 2012

By: Magnolia Lafleur

She wanted to sink into the sweet nectar pulsating inside the belly of bloomed flowers,

unreachable in a towering tree.

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Her fluttered hope, in need of a soberly affirming place of rest.

After years of arduous labor, she twirled into a perched position,

calling upon the celestial spaces to reveal its power.

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She felt it encircling yet eluding her’;

mystical dreams wrapped inside the capricious fold of a Cheshire Cat grin

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She closed her eyes and imagined herself as a dulcet beast,

clothed in regality & seated at the right hand of calmness;

With great longing for the parallel universes to tangle and resurrect her

But with each moment of ascension her eyes were met by the plummeting trunks of helpless trees

and the abandoned cry of rusted desperation.

Unmoving energy arose the tumultuous beast inside.

Breathing forth in a paroxysm of rage; the battle to self-devour had begun.

The internal workings of a beast not put to rest dangerously desiring to be heard, spilled over.

And where screaming met her lips an eye appeared,

silencing vexation and illuminating three actualities:

The first,

 a street lined with the paradox of smog engulfed by a procession of cherry blossom trees.

The second,

an Egyptian proverb spelled in the ink of curled white clouds settled upon a black night.

And finally, with no origin or end,

 a dancing rainbow, driven by madness and awash in playfull delight.

Defeated by visions, she slept.

And as she dreamt, the trees overhead, in a rapturous intercourse, swallowed her.

Freed with joyful appreciation, she surrendered

 and piece, by piece, by peace, she floated away.

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Only to be awakened by the serene movement of wind and gravity.

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Metamorphosed this time, not as a fearful beast but as a pendant in the sky, non-yielding to the stars, she bore the world.

And in the belly of her arms, the glowing earth, basking in the sweet nectar of her sovereignty to create,  slept in sedate watchfulness.

***

 The Dancing Beasts Illusions

By:Magnolia

She wanted to sink into the sweet nectar pulsating inside the belly of bloomed flowers,

unreachable in a towering tree.

Her fluttered hope, in need of a soberly affirming place of rest.

After years of arduous labor, she twirled into a perched position, calling upon the celestial spaces to reveal its power.

She felt it encircling yet eluding her, mystical dreams wrapped inside the capricious fold of a Cheshire Cat grin.

She closed her eyes and imagined herself as a dulcet beast, clothed in regality & seated at the right hand of calmness;

With great longing for the parallel universes to tangle and resurrect her.

But with each moment of ascension her eyes were met by the plummeting trunks of helpless trees and the abandoned cry of rusted desperation.

Unmoving energy arose the tumultuous beast inside.

Breathing forth in a paroxysm of rage; the battle to self-devour had begun.

The internal workings of a beast not put to rest, dangerously desiring to be heard, spilled over;

And where screaming met her lips an eye appeared, silencing vexation and illuminating three actualities:

The first, a street lined with the paradox of smog engulfed by a procession of cherry blossom trees.

The second, an Egyptian proverb spelled in the ink of curled white clouds settled upon a black night

And finally, with no origin or end, a dancing rainbow, driven by madness and awash in playful delight.

Defeated by visions, she slept.

And as she dreamt, the trees overhead, in a rapturous intercourse, swallowed her.

Freed with joyful appreciation, she surrendered and piece by piece by piece, she floated away.

Only to be awakened by the serene movement of wind and gravity.

Metamorphosed, this time, not as a fearful beast but as a pendant in the sky, non-yielding to the stars, she bore the world.

And in the belly of her arms, the glowing earth, basking in the sweet nectar of her sovereignty to create,  slept in sedate watchfulness.