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 )
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?
Midnight Interlude
February 10, 2013
By: Magnolia
To this experience, she was a guest.
Her usual floppy stance became erect and watchful.
Her eyes scintillated and sunken in fright
As a phantom, superior and with bizarre curiosity
Arose, deliberate, detached and delighted while disentangling itself
Inside the lucidity of a half- remembered dream where
All walls collapsed
Atoms took to beat and
Form neglected the boundaries of human conceptualization.
And while reality took to bed possibility
Buildings skipped from side to side, back and forth in comical repetition.
Red became green, blue, pink and plush purple.
Numbers echoed their “I am’s” until they, like a string of pearls, conjoined into a choir of nothing but decoration in an empty space.
Fatality became a companion only to walking apathy
Bombastic unpredictability became soothing potential
Quick became irrelevant
And like the sloth, all had abandoned the clock
And just like that, slow became comfortable.
This outer body experience left her observing the shell she originally inhabited
As all it’s questions, and pondering and confused, rampant vocalization,
Silenced her timid lips, and all that remained, was one thought
“Am I dead, or am I free?” a wonder that lasted but a second,
For suddenly the turbulence of beauty sliced into her experience
And the happiness of a moment coded in the feeling of a kiss;
Encircled, nuzzled and clutched every molecule
Below and between the gaps of every impossibility.
And a voice breathed forth the
Absence of fear and the presence of peace into an anxiety filled form
Everything was nothing, and nothing was everything.
And all that mattered, embraced the obsolete.
Closed eyes, and in the silence of her peace, her skin whispered, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
And in the dark, the face of an old man, expressionless, and bound to no sense of gravity
With one look, injected truth into into her barely beating veins,
“My love, thou inhibits all and everything. Boundless, you are the daughter and son of this creator. And your soft gel like tissues, afloat inside a castle of bones? A mere means of transport in a sea of possibility.”
And while her veins pouted in swollen satisfaction, with her last ounce of strength before her soul cavorted with a sleeping body, she said,
“I understand now, but if I forget later?”
And with no words, he thumped the answer into her heart,
“Then close your eyes and open your child.”
With those last words, she awoke
Drenched in the knowing that there was nothing more to be done,
She surrendered to trying and excavated complexity from the jaws of her trained mind.
And her eyes, drooped in the reckless abandonment of being in love with the infinite,
Tickled inside her enlivened flesh.
For there was no becoming as she already was.