Eden, I Am But A Visitor

August 1, 2019

Eden, I Am But A Visitor

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“And in the beginning, life, like shattered shells splintering the solitude of a slumbering tounge, it slit, spilt and fertilized nebulous dreams.

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And just like that and oh so suddenly, with the wind against my teeth I was born.

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Slapped, belligerent and bear chested
Heart raged & reclined against varnished rubber ribs, clinging to the water in which it lived.

giphy (12)Vertiginous light, truely naked and all devouring sound, you’ve resurrected me from vapor, liquid to one solid mound;

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And here now, I am now here a life.

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And you, oh so solid feeling pain?

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“Finally free, unencumbered light. It was a seed in a planted tree that created me.”

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Oh sweet, apple of my eye,
geometric stills, I cannot see where they truely lie.

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Pathological movement nailed to growth,
Tormenting and ticking this sculpted sands bleeding beats, doomed to a moral code, an oath of good deeds.

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And at the entrance to mortality, a chair of choice soaked in the blood of everything I will come to love, your voice.

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And yet still, I am but a visitor, a pilgrim crossing  carnivorous rivers, moving to keep solitary cells in their proper jails, wanting to meet my home in the space where whispers reside, hoping for the fruit of our labor, that we both bit, to bear our bonded bones before we are a drift.

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And so here I am, Frankensteins monster, cultivating understanding, adapting to longevity, bedazzled by the questions that come from first bites, disheartened by mechanized beings and forever searching for Adam in my dreams.”

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-Magnolia

(© 2018 Magnolia HL)

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Mozart’s Beak

January 16, 2019

-ONE MUST GO BEYOND TO BECOME-

Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.

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Here, my blood boils between sighing senses and a sewn In gut
Like cats teeth
I gnaw and claw at my weakest strands
Pulling apart the places where I failed to take a stand.

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I stand heart swelling between my pores
pushing
this scared crows beak through atmospheric places fighting for MORE!

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Ruin and rapture, left to swim amongst the stars I soar.

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As my lips peel themselves around
Paradoxical pastries pleasurable and poisonous

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It is my insides that hemorrhage rabid &  boisterous.

Adom split, I am divided by three

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Frozen shelled it’s my soul that screams FREE!

giphy (2)Pouting, swollen in arrogance
It bleeds through my eyes
Where I remain is far from where my soul flies.

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And as I sink beneath the graveled earth, devoured
by swallowing mud and loving larva

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it’s Mozart’s beak that reminds me of Nirvana

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Flapping feathers furrowed then freed above
fluffy mounds of blushed cotton,
Breeze brushing backwards beyond dreams begotten.
Tonight I dream of leaving it all, of basking in the forgotten.

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And in that warm, dusk kissed light,
Horizon stretched
My insanity is etched
A thicket of desires beating through pounds of flesh.

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Thirsting for resurrection, I stop only to drink from my own reflection.

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Still stood, cold framed
Purged
And sweaty
I soar with Mozart, extending myself, creating compositions, rubbed and ready

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Violent they’ve become sharpened steal pointed and pinning
Forcing me to go to the beginning.

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And in the beginning, “the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”
My veins weep as my breath, it leaps beyond this eternal sleep.

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Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.

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But should you look upon my pushed past in present face

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There you’ll find, entombed inside gorged lids, my soul, the God of impenetrable space.  beakMOZ1

original

By: Magnolia Lafleur

Between the Gap

April 17, 2013

 

By Magnolia

 

It’s that small whisper in-between the fog

Wounds hushed by plush snow.

And woeful hearts melted through tepid strokes.

Light, right before the fade of dark.

An abandoned desert first touched by the print of man.

Or fire seduced by adjacent streams.

It’s that closing of the gap as I near you.

Can you feel it?

The swaying hairs reaching from my arm.

Can you see it?

My swollen iris, lids double fluttering.

Or can you hear the wings of butterflies

pounding against captured air.

Long, rolling, syllables,

thinly spread upon a bed of silence;

begging to fill the space where you begin and I end.

And why is that as far as I’m allowed to get,

beside the respite of breath billowing between our lips?

I want to subsist inside the gap.

The difference of the two?

  A slight of hand,

a slit between being alive and merely breathing.

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