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.
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.
I stand heart swelling between my pores
pushing
this scared crows beak through atmospheric places fighting for MORE!
Ruin and rapture, left to swim amongst the stars I soar.
As my lips peel themselves around
Paradoxical pastries pleasurable and poisonous
It is my insides that hemorrhage rabid & boisterous.
Adom split, I am divided by three
Frozen shelled it’s my soul that screams FREE!
Pouting, swollen in arrogance
It bleeds through my eyes
Where I remain is far from where my soul flies.
And as I sink beneath the graveled earth, devoured
by swallowing mud and loving larva
it’s Mozart’s beak that reminds me of Nirvana
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.
And in that warm, dusk kissed light,
Horizon stretched
My insanity is etched
A thicket of desires beating through pounds of flesh.
Thirsting for resurrection, I stop only to drink from my own reflection.
Still stood, cold framed
Purged
And sweaty
I soar with Mozart, extending myself, creating compositions, rubbed and ready
Violent they’ve become sharpened steal pointed and pinning
Forcing me to go to the beginning.
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.
Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.
But should you look upon my pushed past in present face
There you’ll find, entombed inside gorged lids, my soul, the God of impenetrable space. 
By: Magnolia Lafleur
What Crones Up Crows Drown
September 27, 2018
And though his bones they have bled into oat, ash & dust, his stories, quite blahsensical, they shall ever never rust.
Whilst parliamentary principles perabulated in his head, he laid upon his pillow, solving problematic proverbs in his bed.
Swashbuckling tales wrapped in a small trim blue skirt as she holds a ‘drink me’ bottle beginning the flirt.
Algebraic equations tunneling the mind, make it difficult for her to follow that big bunny’s behind.
And since I am no neologist, dreaming in ratios and gold, I can understand what the Jabberwocky’s point was in being told.
Oh and ahhhh the joy in those frabjous words interlocking the tounge with the mind as it does.
Confounding it all is.
This world’s upside down.
You’ll find that man who claims to be of scripture filled with Mach·i·a·vel·li·an sound.
And that human who won’t work, it’s only because it left its soul in the hurt;
something those pecking birds feast upon in deserts.
But fear thee not and believe in thy all,
for a Tureen of soup may cure the fall.
And if ye shan’t believe in thy might, I suggest you take an absence from this thing you call sight.
Go ahead, be brilliantly bold, as blind as a blissful old bat,
fill your belly with the stars till its round, fruitful and fat.
Go on twaddle twinkle, trip towards your leave;
as it’s won’t be quite difficult in more than six impossible things to believe.
-Magnolia
Acrylic on canvas ♡
( © 2018 Magnolia HL )
The Sixth Element
March 3, 2013
By: Magnolia
I sat in silence, squeezing at the first fruit I saw in sight.
And as I crushed it,
Bruised, its tears bled between the angst collected in the gut of my palm,
And It absorbed my pain.
I wanted it all to cease
Clocks
Work
Things
And every element known to man, in which I supposed I could survive without.
Starved my body would wilt, but with you, my Sixth Element,
Through you my being is infinite
My divinity and happiness
Defined by the mere possibility of being cradled inside the womb of your arms
For together, we are a monochromatic combustion of harmony.
*
But I lament,
For I have the feeling, that you are far away;
Your spirit near but your body,
It’s far away.
And as I watch the world roll by,
And fill my mind with ideas, materials and longing,
They all rot away;
Insignificant without you.
*
The sea, earth, sky, fire, wind, and you, my Sixth Element.
The crucial crux to my existence
You are my thoughts final burial place.
For no matter how busy this sphere gets
And I busy in it, will there ever be
A substitution for this feeling
Created and filled,
In what would normally take a thousand lifetimes,
By the life captured inside the streams of your rising chest
*
Your breath is my sixth element,
The released & genuflecting wave,
The tectonic shift,
The fearlessness at the edge of a cliff.
The exquisite point to which all else rotates.
And your skin, a road-map leading to the tip of your lips;
The place where all longing is quenched,
And where silence is arced into shapes only seen by me.
*
You have shifted the melody of the sun and moon
With my nights being consumed with closed eyed images of you
A kaleidoscope of possibilities trapped inside of me.
With my eyes, never asleep for you.
And my days locked in the knowing
That no matter what I do or how much I grab,
You are the only thing, that I must, I have to have.
Trapped Utopia & Unfettered Wings
January 26, 2013
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.
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.
Unable to look away, he felt the warmth of his veins cooled by her pale as corpse hand
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.
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 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.
Swallowed by smoke, swollen iris and startled heart he screamed, “I want out!”
Treading and manic, 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 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.”
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 & became a man, transcendent and magnate.
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.
A Lady of Ten Thousand Names
January 12, 2013
God you should have seen her, hemorrhaging with ambition while smiling in the harshest of heat.
She stood in the belly of that crowd, raised her arm in the air & matched her heart to the beat.
And suddenly every patron in the city, believers & doubters, rose quickly to their feet.
Their fists pounding against the rhythm of the wind; boom, boom, boom, boom!
Kinetic electricity surged from every cavity & splashed through every layer in the room.
Head high and shoulders back, she gave the deuces to anyone who didn’t think she had the knack.
Once the souls that questioned her are now asking for her signature.
Although in the dark & blind to the masses, she doubted nothing while lighting her own torches.
Bearing the brunt of naysayers & pile driving while supplying her own transfusions,
Every night she closed her eyes and challenged the dark with esoteric allusions.
She was a woman, but didn’t need to prove it.
Her ears had swallowed broken glass and her knees felt the itch of mud and laughing grass.
And while it was in style to sport the scent of gin and sex,
She didn’t bother, she was a self-accepted reject.
All the while undeserving, with gut and grit, she pushed Sisyphus rock up and made it stick.
Her razor tongue savored the water of Tantalus and of others opinions, she could care less.
Unapologetic & foolhardy with determination, she fashions her lips with bona fied narration.
But when the crowd has dissipated she sits alone, contemplative.
And although she is silent in her tears, she paints only what she wants herself to mirror.
Saying nothing, she curls her fingers around the heart of the moon
She squeezes it in hopes of growing more immune.
A goddess, a rebel, a lady of ten thousand names, she breaths to the beat of her own drum, she is a consummate dame.
