The Rarefied & Colorful
August 4, 2020
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.
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 is Bliss?
September 14, 2018
What Is Bliss?
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?
Stuck Outside the Dream
September 2, 2013
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?
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.
