And through it all, seasons famished or full, my dear Scarlet, you remain. Sprightly and apparent always your heart cut and pushed forward. From window view, it hung bent below your left breast just right of your thoughts. Like sweetened licorice its flavor speaks unspoilt, like restorative puree with a belly warming taste; You exist to remind me to hemorrhage openly, never to waste.
Your skin, bright as blossomed truth and soaked in the hue of amorous wine. You fly amongst a quartet of colors while clearing a contemplative space for creation to take place.
Playful yet quaint, Isolated through gossamer clouds, Scarlet sips most from the moment, As near to the sun past flesh permits. I watch you and want to drinking from the vein of your thoughts.
Born from dribbled embers You pull from the blood of the earth You drink romanced tears while cloaked in heat; Time, you do not twaddle with as though deaths door is nigh. In you Scarlet, there are no remains, only, everything and nothing is left unturned to ask why.
Through Scarlet birds I am reminded of all that is life; electric love wailing about in windy theatrics, perpetually pouring itself into inhaling ventricles, dying for the filling.
It pecked upon the twigs sloshed inside a pond of warm blooded mud just between a briars patch.
Through the rose window and beyond the rumpled Victorian curtain, my eyes were fixed;
Upon this bird, adorned in a black feather coat and emerald eyes, was calm tranquility, as it slowly tugged, no, merely kissed the twig, in hopes of resurrecting it from the dampness of yesterday’s rain.
And nearby a tree guarded this Rusty Blackbird from rays of light and the wind, from slight of sound.
Transfixed I was in the facile movement of nature, symphonically conducted by an invisible maestro.
Finally, after minutes of bearing witness to this dance, I saw the mud birth not one, but a string of twigs bound to each other, like the pearls upon my mother’s neck.
Delighted, or seemingly so, the blackbird dragged, collected and flew away;
And as I stood, weighted in a lachrymose farewell, a preponderance of thoughts pecked at the pool of mud gathered in a frozen place inside my heart.
Only, where was my maestro and does he know my name?
So I sat and took to ink and paper my plight.
And while heavy in eyes, I wrote this, blotted in the vanity of self-pity and below the breast, where forlorn feelings often linger without a tree to shade or wind to silence;
In hopes that I too, will be like the Rusty Blackbird, drenched in pined watchfulness from a distant window, with a pile of twigs at my leisure, in perfect time, as I too, will collect and fly away, leaving it all behind.
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.
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.
“And in the beginning, life, like shattered shells splintering the solitude of a slumbering tounge, it slit, spilt and fertilized nebulous dreams.
And just like that and oh so suddenly, with the wind against my teeth I was born.
Slapped, belligerent and bear chested Heart raged & reclined against varnished rubber ribs, clinging to the water in which it lived.
Vertiginous light, truely naked and all devouring sound, you’ve resurrected me from vapor, liquid to one solid mound;
And here now, I am now here a life.
And you, oh so solid feeling pain?
“Finally free, unencumbered light. It was a seed in a planted tree that created me.”
Oh sweet, apple of my eye, geometric stills, I cannot see where they truly lie.
Pathological movement nailed to growth, Tormenting and ticking this sculpted sands bleeding beats, doomed to a moral code, an oath of good deeds.
And at the entrance to mortality, a chair of choice soaked in the blood of everything I will come to love, your voice.
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.
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.”
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.
How does one determined the line between dream and reality?
This tells the story of an old woman who has spent her time in sleep building a relationship with a man who is deemed, in our concept of reality, a dream. She contemplates whether his ability to prevail so tangibly in her existence is due to them having a love that stands the test of time, society’s notion of reality and reincarnation itself. These are the thoughts of a woman ” Stuck Outside the Dream.”
Faint as a memory, vivid as a dream,
That’s how I remember him.
His hands firm, ironed to fit the concaves of my weathered skin.
His love vivid, shaped to illuminate the shadows of my being.
He was a soft vision, only unlike any phantom I had ever seen,
For I had felt his touch.
His hair always smelt of plucked roses, a soap given to him on our 20th Anniversary.
His lips, provoked by the beat of my heart, were always filled with the vowels of kings.
But at times, when I’m awake, I can’t help but wonder, hath my senses played a trick on me?
Am I interwoven inside the womb of my own insanity?
In love inside two worlds, I, we, both were trapped.
A communion derailed by the coming of the sun and the yawning of the moon.
In my sleep and in his awake I am found.
My life with him permeates of promethean heat, of longings quenched, of rapturous immortality.
The pleasure of his skin stacked upon my soul only deadens my being when I arise in the day.
For empty is my bed and I just a mere lump of clay.
Alone, it is intolerable, for one cannot function & absorb the torture of blocked possibility.
So I have chosen to live in sanity.
For what’s a dreamer to do when trapped inside their awake, but to bridge the gap, rescue the dream from being lost, at stake.
The origins of this life that exists inside black lids, I know not of.
Perhaps a love, so benevolent, a man, a spirit so prodigious, that no conceivable birth from nature, reincarnation itself, can interrupt.
Conquered, our breath hath focused its way through time.
Pillaging the process of winter, summer, spring and fall;
We decided upon inseparability through any means at all.
And now, his reality is my dream.
Expired are the days of wanting,
As he remains surrendered to me, I shall remain my feet off ground my heart in heavens, un-yielding to my awake.
Varnished we remain, I clinging to him, like warm bark upon a shivered tree.
For is it not in our insanity that we are truly free?
By summers end, I kissed his lids beneath a tiered willow tree.
Sweeping in the wind, it’s lazy arms enlivened us with each touch.
And while I lay upon his beloved chest, his hand in mine we clutched.
A perfect day.
Crickets swallowed silence with infectious songs, while
bees and crimson roses embosomed all night long.
Further, in the afternoon, like kings we partook;
Sliced oranges tangled in white lace, webbed buttered croissants, delicate and warm. And a medley, of green, purple, red
and yellow leaves, an ode to a summers passing.
Upon the suns genuflection we built our nest bellow twinkling eyes and in the graces of a smiling moon.
We were the makers of dreams and the bearers of empyrean possibilities; a love uninterrupted.
( Story: Star-dust+ Egg+Sperm x Spirit= the Human Experience: ENds&JOYs)
It began as a long corridor, painted with nine moving figures, almost like, a welcoming party, only they were not bent on saying hello, rather, they were occupied, with focused intoxication in detailing my voids with purposeful movement.
As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.
It was pale, still and wafer-thin with time. Upon greeting, painlessly and with no hesitation, it peeled back it’s skin.
Buried inside the layers of wall was half of a room. The other half, well it was only to be reached by climbing up a ladder propped against a bright light.
Whereupon I stood, my face met the celestial breath of night and the warmth of an eclipsing light. Bewitched the darkness perambulated beneath my scintillated lids.
Galvanized, I stood feeling the inception of behemoth black while it drowned wanting lids with star dust and polished pebbles.
Fire and earth cavorted forming an allegory of love crashed into the soul of a blind guest. I had become rebellious star-dust born solely to answer to the call of my own crux.
Behold my first vision, spiraling stairs, cascading upwards into a place where mine eyes could not reach.
Transfixed I was until directed to go forward.
As I climbed the stairs I felt myself, like a train barreling down an unknown tunnel, being thwarted past perceptibility and time.
As I reached the top I strangely felt bits of wet clay squelching between my toes.
It wasn’t until I was still, and caught and held one silent breath that I realized that in order to become whole I needed to dive in.
So I ran. With drunken madness, I traveled into the belly of a salivating creature; it eager to envelop me in its womb, and I eager to be cloaked.
The very moment I was consumed, was the very moment I was released into the chasm of euphoric realization, and I did not hold back.
Unbeknownst to me, in that exact moment, I shared a pathway with an unknown figure, and he too had been thwarted, leaped and consumed.
We met in rushing waters. Inseparable, from then forward, conjoined we sailed.
Within the time-span of nine heart beats we absorbed
storming clouds and riveted sunsets.
We were synergistic in our combustion; together creating a polychromatic being.
Through the bombastic force that at times shifts the earth, two beings, meshed as one, arose through a tiny fissure.
This being was miraculous, perfection unfurled. It’s first steps although slow, defied all the laws of gravity; it was pure possibility wrapped in earth.
It’s eyes, a cloudy treasure chest, binding the secrets of its soul.
And it’s armor, ingeniously infused with electric circuits, charging for movements to come.
At first breath it unfolded, followed by a revolving stretch.
This being, spun by dream weavers, had inside its belly a cup of un-spilt passion, bequeathed by star-dust and fastened by the undivided attention of a ready soul.
Sword drawn and consciousness ready, it smiled with its face pressed against the world. And with dreams in heart and painted reality at bay, it had only one thing in reply to the challenges it was soon to face, “En garde.”
CONCEPTION
It began as a long corridor, painted with nine moving figures, almost like, a welcoming party, only they were not bent on saying hello, rather they were occupied, with focused intoxication, in detailing my voids with purposeful movement.
As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.
It was pale, still and wafer-thin with time. Upon greeting, painlessly and with no hesitation, it peeled back it’s skin.
And inside the walls was half of a room. The other half, well it was only to be reached by climbing up a ladder propped against a bright light.
Whereupon I stood, my face met the celestial breath of night and the warmth of an eclipsing light. Bewitched the darkness perambulated beneath my scintillated lids.
Galvanized, I stood feeling the inception of behemoth black while it drowned wanting lids with star dust and polished pebbles.
Fire and earth cavorted forming an allegory of love crashed into the soul of a blind guest. I had become rebellious stardust born solely to answer to the call of my own crux.
Behold my first vision, spiraling stairs, cascading upwards into a place where my eyes could not reach.
Transfixed I was until directed to go forward.
As I climbed the stairs I felt myself, like a train barreling down an unknown tunnel, being thwarted past perceptibility and time.
As I reached the top I strangely felt bits of wet clay squelching between my toes.
It wasn’t until I was still, and caught and held one silent breath that I realized that in order to become whole I needed to dive in.
So I ran. With drunken madness, I traveled into the belly of a salivating creature; it eager to envelop me in its womb, and I eager to be found.
The very moment I was consumed, was the very moment I was released into the chasm of euphoric realization, and I did not hold back.
Unbeknownst to me, in that exact moment, I shared a pathway with an unknown figure, and he too had been thwarted, leaped and consumed.
We met in rushing waters. Inseparable, from then forward, conjoined we sailed.
Within the time-span of nine heart beats we absorbed
storming clouds and riveted sunsets.
We were synergistic in our combustion; together creating a polychromatic being.
Through the bombastic force that at times shifts the earth, two beings, meshed as one, arose through a tini fissure.
This being was miraculous, perfection unfurled. It’s first steps although slow, defied all the laws of gravity; it was pure possibility wrapped in earth.
It’s eyes, a cloudy treasure chest, binding the secrets of its soul.
And it’s armor, ingeniously infused with electric circuits, charging for movements to come.
At first breath it unfolded, followed by a revolving stretch.
This being, spun by dream weavers, had inside its belly a cup of un-spilt passion, bequeathed by star dust and fastened by the undivided attention of a ready soul.
Sword drawn and consciousness ready, it smiled with its face pressed against the world. And with dreams in heart and painted reality at bay, it had only one thing in reply to the challenges it was soon to face, ”En garde.”
Albeit barely born, by the time he hit one, he had already seen and created the world.
And while letters had not made sail into his unfurnished mind or wrangled between the columns inside his vacant mouth, his heart spilt of stories in far away lands, undiscovered pastures, roaring seas and of a friend in whom no journey was improbable.
It was upon the back of a pictoric baby elephant, the young boy would fall asleep.
Bobbing inside of sequestered thoughts, his head lay warmed by the sloppy and playful movements of the babes frank and floppy ear. The sun pressed heavy against his lids, securing a passageway for careless dreams.
Smirking in the golden light, with eyes shut, the boy saw the earth extended and rising; the very form of natures ample bosom evaporating into the mirth that exists inside of a formless habitat.
Illusive was the rushing wind sliding betwixt the window seals of journeying butterflies dipped in ink. Surrounded they were by birds thrashing about in a performance with grand sonority aimed at pleasing a slumbering prince.
Connected to his dear friend, his hands became prismatically interwoven, holding the very same print.
Sprinkles of mustard dust swirled with black night, flushed into scarlet curves that drowned inside the reflective skin of emerald leaves.
They were one and the same.
Together they journeyed to the ocean, where, through keen magnification, they observed the condensation of a violet sunset cavorting, in blustered fervor, with thawed foliage and sunken clouds of white.
They wondered past caramel mushroom abodes, deers trapped in necking, phosphorescent trees and hospitable vines.
A world built upon the back of the collected musings of the an emblazoned mind.
And as he grew, in him the elephant remained; a token of remembrance of all uncharted dreams and to the prodigious mastery that rests inside the thirsting veins of not merely a Walter-Mitty, but a conjurer of immeasurable possibilities.
And held between my knees and this gray old cotton skirt,
A porcelain cup it rests, with swivels of you in melted dirt.
And inside these swivels of you, are looping, daydreams
Sparked by deeds, not done, and never ever to be seen.
*
Steam engulfing reveries swimming in my pretty porcelain rivulet.
And all the while I take long
loud, visceral, sipssss
Close my eyes and let the vapor stroke my eager thirsty lips.
*
Sitting here, tapping my foot to the beat of my pen
Imaging you walk through the door,
over & over again & again.
Foam tracings of what was once suppressed, now expressed.
And I delightful in it’s proclivity towards daydreams tasty & undressed.
*
Oh so flushed and out of sync,
my fancy for you makes me re-run & over-think.
Proliferating feelings of upside down, right side up, see-through, covered,
so in & sane this love drunkard.
*
But until snow and wind freeze you on my way.
(Warmth being the thing you feel with everything I say.)
I’ll spill my ink on willing leaves and scribble away brain waves.
Stare into heated porcelain and see visions;
Falling leaves falling for me, jellyfish stinging you in your head and having you wake up in my storm happy bed.
*
Transparent cravings bottled in the angst of firmly, fixed fingers
Pressed against floating like fuzzys, sealed in my coffee rim figures.
“But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true. “
Vertiginous light, truely naked and all devouring sound, you’ve resurrected me from vapor, liquid to one solid mound;
Pouting, swollen in arrogance
As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.
