The Shadow Fae of Glory

Some times I wonder if God drew me up wicked-
  I, like so many of his children, so drawn to the dark.

I sabotaged glory, squandering any earnest ideal,
  that it was real.

Instead Glory had a face that haunted me.  She was feral, when I met her.  Now, she is unearthly and dark; a scribbled Fae of black depths and wild eyes, enough to scare any soldier, and 10 feet tall.
  A creature of Habitat, she is fierce, and alien-like.  She may very well come from "the dark dimension", though she herself is not, per se.   She merely lives there.  Was born there.  Knows no other bounds.

We create her, you and I.  Our thoughts whirl, and there she absorbs them becoming a monster of organic fury.

This is how spirits

are born.

Pandora's Bottle

With Ode to Missed Connections:
  *there is an honesty in a person's speech when they can remain anonymous.  It is in this spirit that I begrudgingly post this.  Real honesty, especially for any expressionist,  is an incredibly vulnerable task. Vulnerability takes a different strength, perhaps to the point of "escaping ego" , even if just momentarily.   When writing,  it is natural to omit, and edit oneself.  I find being candid, however, has some universal draw on me- one that pulls me into an enforced trance.  So I confess,  I have found some of the most poetic love letters ever written, on Missed Connections Posts.   The Romantic Voyeur in me loves to scour this sea-board of messages in their cast out bottles.   I have written upon this sea for one person only;  Cast a bottle every year or so.  One man brought me to this forum...and for him, I still cast bottles to our sea.  In the spirit of casting this out from my inner temple, I throw you another bottle.
       
          ~



    "I have written you ode's & love letters for years now.  I still look out my window for you, awaiting a non-existent day that you make it to my doorstep.  I wonder what it's going to take to weed you out of my memory; my mind.  I've figured by now, that you are never coming...and I don't know what bound me to you; nor what still does.

     Beyond all reason, I have longed for you, for so long now.  I meant it, when I said "you won, but I also said it, to get to you.  I wanted you to know that this was your choice.  Maybe you were protecting me, or yourself, or both...but I never wanted you to.  Maybe you simply, didn't care.

     I still feel you, during the holidays; still think about you, when I'm not supposed to; still roller-coaster through an absurd obsession that you started in me.  One reason, I could never be with him, is because I could never stop thinking of you, if I were to.  His personality is one factor, but somehow, he could never compete with you, once you and I had began talking.  What a fool, right? I'm smiling.  I know it's foolish to want you completely capitulated, but it's a foolish world.  Love is a foolish design.  It is also a miracle you and I have hardly known, but by my own generosity, I know it.  Perhaps you can't say the same; you were always so cruel.  Somehow yet, years later, I found myself slightly untagged by the foulest of your comments.  I laugh now, knowing you are just snide and twisted.  I have no rational reason for loving that about you...but I do.

     I am fighting myself from picking up the phone.  You always had that rule over me.  I would trade my reputation, my self-pride, just to hear from you.  What stops me is everything you said, last time we spoke.  Rejected.  Brushed off.  I never heard from you after that.  It's been two or three years since then.  I miss you so much; you...you could never understand why.  It baffled you.
  It baffles me too.

     I have been blessed, and honored to have many lovers.  I've enjoyed beautiful women that loved me as ferociously, as I loved them.  Even then...You left an impression on me...like an imprint that would never fade.  It sounds cliche, but as of yet, it feels burned in my chest, and I can't, for the life of me, dig, or pull it out. 
     I may have mistaken your capacity for love, or your capacity of love, for me- either way.  What I could never mistake, was my love, my obsession with you.  It may have been one of the most foolish things I have ever done, as an adult.  I opened that door, and we walked through creating something in me, on my timeline, that we could never undo.  At that moment, I didn't know that I would fall more in love with you than anyone I had ever before you, nor would 'til now.  Looking back though, I see, that that is exactly what happened.  Ky, broke my heart.  She strangled the air from my throat, and she slept with someone else shortly after.  She fell from first place into a frozen and squandered memory, where Love, became nothing but ice.  If she was the ice, you were my thaw.  I imprinted on you, like an infant to the Devil, and I wonder, if you ever, fell in love along the way?  Does the Devil, have a heart?

     I always believed in you.  My guess is that receiving Love is your weak-point; that never stopped me from wanting to smother you, in mine.  Hours of bedtime minutes, and listening when we didn't want to, fighting and making up in bed.  Dinner.  Breakfast. Lunch.  You.  I see you everywhere, and smiling, as long as I'm around.  You love to tease me.  We love to be in our room.  You love me, and somehow you have surrendered.  I hope it's the sex, that has you.

We have our way, but you never believed in it; never gave into it.  You never gave us a chance.  I believe you had your reasons, as perhaps you still do.  You should know though,  that I think about you.  Irrationally.  Shamelessly, though I have to hide that from the world.  I never say your name, though I want to; though I think it.  Though I would love to pass it on.   Whatever bound us, may have seemed sick and sadistic, but it made me.  It put me through a fire, that cracked and charred me, until I came out, ready to re-emerge.

     When He was with me the other night...I thought of you so deeply.  I knew that although him and I have a history, ( he has a charm that is rough and unrefined) I knew that I could never give my whole self to him, with you, a distant best-friend away.  I made the choice years ago, to leave him once and for all; but I never told You why.  You never asked; and didn't seem to care.  The reason was You, of course.  I knew if we ever had any chance of a future, then I had to get away from him.  So I did.

     You of course, slipped out of the picture.  I don't know where I lost you, or if it was any illusion that I ever had you.  I knew I loved you, although I wasn't sure at the time, if Love is what it was.  All these years later, that feeling that I had then, that pushed me TO love you...I still have.  I remember your voice, but only for it's moments-it's impressions.  I remember your slipped "I love you's" and the torment and havoc you wreaked on my mind.  I remember your moments of leaked honesty, and your brutal choice's upon a mood's declaration.  Yet still, by some grace only of the God and the Devil, do I still remain loving you, victim of all wretched types.  I never stopped loving you.  You called me many things and iterated that you and your friends laughed at me.  You were the best at playing such a grand illusion, that I fell for the show; what I'm wondering, is if any of it was real?
  Do you still laugh at me? If so, do you mean it?  Do you secretly ache ever, for the understanding, or my hand, touch, or body?  I have longed for you since the day we opened our pandora's box.  Yet only some drifting dream, that holds like the moon, the sky, and something almost grasped.  Perhaps it is for the best.   Though, if you ever reach out, you Will find my hand.  Love is Love.  and You own me.  That moment in time, you grew above those before, and those that would follow you.  I have still not been able to uproot you; that may be because, deep down...I never wanted to.

     You outgrew them, because you did not hurt me enough to numb my Love, rather you burned a fury that fueled it.  Sure, you hurt me but I think I must have liked it.  While I know that you can get women to submit for you, they would never submit like I can, like I would, and you know it.  It's Love that binds me to you.  Then, the devil's snare, by second degree.

     I want you to come to me.  Or I will find Love elsewhere.  I can feel it, already on it's way.  But I want you to come to me, nonetheless.  I believe we could be happy together, if you think you had the strength to try, to keep me happy, as much as I would you.  I have been crazy in love with you; for more years at this point than I have had a serious relationship.  I think we deserve our chance.  Unless I"m just wrong.  Of which, I've already accepted.  I just love you.  Question is, how do you feel about me? Is it love? Is there love there? Would you like to own me? Would you give me a chance to make you happy? To please you? As the woman that I have grown to be? Would you consider marrying me for love? Fuck the money, and we'll create our life, together?  As for your best friend, he can be the best man.  He lost his chance several times over; and I am not a prize to be won.  I'd like to think rather, that I was always yours...from the moment, you re-entered my life, even if we didn't know it.

     Something in the way you twisted things, made sense.  and I think if you were nicer, we may have made sense.  I'm thinking about you these holidays, as I normally do.  I miss your voice.  I want to call.  But you made me feel so stupid last time we cut off communications.   I felt rejected for your new girlfriend.  You did a number on me kid.  I know that I am just playing with a fantasy.  It never seemed like you were capable of not hurting me.  That was something you and I agreed on.  That doesn't halt the fact that I would rather talk through it, and hear your voice, and try your touch to this day, than live in the ugliness of what you said in the past- and I will always say it, but if I said or did anything to hurt you, I am sorry.  I want to speak kindly of you and shower you with "undeserved love" because to me, you always deserved it.  Actions don't make us.  they can however, break us.

     I can not call you; I'm too prideful and shy to think that you could handle talking to me without it ending in further rejection.  Do you normally have girls begging you for chances? Do you think they could love you like I love you?  Come home.  I miss you.  Do you think we had much? I think we had everything, even if only I could envision it; our relationship was beautifully and tragically rough around every edge, but I felt bound to you.  That has never stopped.  I still miss you, and search for you in the sky and the changing seasons.  I really wanted that dinner and that night with you.  I think it would have gone too well.  I think we would have fallen in love.  I guess I know now why you passed it up.  Maybe you felt like you couldn't afford Love, with me.  You must have figured out by now, that I am a risk taker.  It doesn't mean, that I wouldn't fight for you, if things went south.  On the contrary, I have always fought for you.  I just felt like you showed me that you weren't as concerned with my happiness.  I let you go, against my will.  I did it because you wanted me to, and because I knew I should.  But nothing's changed, accept that I am a woman, years later, still un-kissed and un-held by you; by us."

                - Not So Anonymous

An Angel's Retire

                                                          I know you must be tormented-
  the nihilist of narcissistic obsessions;
                                                    weaving in and out only,

                                                                                      of your own grandeur , your own illusions,

while underneath,

you steep some falsetto's
  of echoing hatred, seeping of self despise.



  The allure of the dark, a strange drawl; an elusive torment,
because as all time passes, not the veil between
  you nor I

That never lifts.


Every thought, behind every breath is blanketed-
  the charcoals like wretched claws,
pulling me deep
I imagine, this place, is the place we meet.
perhaps more capable of Love, Dark Thing,
what it is that binds us,
  is the sweet promise of your blindfolds,
and my hands bound.

For a night, your Demons take me to Bed, while I finally allow them this one occasion,
to lay with an Angel-
  that is bound you had made me-
    that I would do that for you
and only you.


  All the corners of my own ego
cower more, as loss of concern
  drive's passion's inferno.

Cloaked, I decided long ago,
 to embrace the Shadow of my God,

Much as I embrace the life.

  Cowardly, I stay where it's warm, yet under shade,
never walking into the path of your domination...fearful..
  that i might die
by the bind of you.

Twas the bind by both, then devour and consume me whole- I will live out my days on this Earth, dancing our shadows and not bound by any taboo of goodness.

  and only you, can blindfold me.  By the moonlight.  by your will.
and by the very real cloth, that you place over my eyes, and knot behind my head.

kneeled,  once and for all,
might i submit,
thy dance be done.

  naked, a moon shade casting through the window
and my body, finally ownly yours
to do with
  as you please.

  my flesh glowing a silver blue from the night sky
shades casted against my curves,
now every inch yours, as you view my kneeled submission, in wrapped hands,
begging eyes, and your gag to test
  my commitment.

I beg you
to bind me.

to own me.

to never stop.

to let me in.

to open to the way i want to love you,
as you open to the way I want to be loved.

let me drag you into the light,
as you soil
  my every belief system,

and replace it with something
  we make.
something that is ours.
where we are an us.

and I will worry nothing more
of this world,
nor her need of God.

   This is how much I love you.
To give you everything.  yet no fool...

i will die by you, or leave-  fool is all lovers, and you,
 as cowardly as I.

  Blindfold your Angel.  Snuff her might.  Allow her submission.
bare her.
  Make our Children.
Love.

and let us,
Demon, Angel, and Man

defy God.

Bare me.
and let us defy all reason.
  Give our children the curse and might of our divine throwns,
Good and Evil,

and take my hand.
  Bind it in daylight by ring,
and night, by band

  and come morning I can reveal God's heaven..
   while night, we roam, dancing the Devil's great Test.

I am willing to meet you half way- to dip my body in the black,
and see if I still emerge.

  Can you, Man and Demons,
face the love and warmth of Dawn's Halo?

Can you bathe in the Spring of Divine will, and emerge still Dark?
 I am a testatment that the dark always lives,

as does the light, My Life, My Love.

Devour me.

Bare me.

Meet me.

I miss the kingdom you created-
  psychotic and lustful,
of the devil's promise alone.

God remained, the love between us, in all that darkness.
  the only light,
and it was enough.

I never submitted.
  I wasn't taught to.
not but for God.

and you,
 you were the only one to dispel that.
to promise of an abyss that lured me desperately.
  you pressed  the sins of Eve
right out of my obedience,

and together,
we ate of fruits we could never undo.

I fell in Love, with the Enemy.

  never submitted,
til' now, I beg.



 

Facebook Reparation

Content.  Had Become soul-less.
Habitats for cohesion, evolved, and by implementation,
How candidly gone to drive us mad.
Down.
To separate us.
Divide.

     Reparation's callous controls
as content dries of residual faceless feeds
and echo chambers,
and pictures,
and trends,
and naked women all over
  every
echo chamber known to society's men.

Callousness grows like weeds in wine gardens-
  a virus gorging out of Los Angeles,
New York,
Chicago.

The cities go blue.  We hold.  The life-blood of passion burning bright
in the torches
   of patriots still,
while we all go mad arguing truths.

God stay silent,
  while the omens go unheard.

I'm sorry, too big a burden to deliver-
the wretched caring of men.


  Bleach-bit, worn out, pixels drying up
  my running veins.
Yet blown, down, hollow
only some stack of cards, and nothing more.

Was but a faded castle of paper thin illusions,
  and yet, the real world, a scoped mirror,

to our deepest fears anyhow,
as long as we stay, running.

  Roots calcify over my beating veins,
blood rushing through torrents like lava,
invisible to core.

  I became something more long ago, the Earth, taking me up, in bits and pieces.

      Reminding me,
I am of Her; I can sustain no breath Gaia not allows.

Flesh restores, slipping, sipping only like the bees of nectar.  Holy Refrain, will dig our flesh a lonely grave.

I miss Love, like slipping my feet in the wild flowers, and upon the earth's skirt.
  The repave of social collisions and societal antidotes,
Haunted ever by the evil lurking in the subtle undergrounds

Of Masters,
vs.
their ruled.

  Implored, Chained, and having gone to battle, no shield shall protect me more than Arc's.
Only the Shield of the Most High,

  and even still.
Granted, and imposed,

I will come to God, covered in Pig stool.
  For I have been a fool and sinned as any man.  Lied.  Stolen.  Committed Adultery.  Even binding my acts to God's name.

We all are wretchedly sure, and as ignorant as infants.  I can not even apologize for this.

Mucked, I have been tossed and thrown without vengeance.

  I have been betrayed, and left to fend.
So, in Gaia's grace, I rest my head, and Pray.

      It is in God's grace in the heaven's that I connect the Holy light,
with the practician of the Earth.

I am restored because I choose to Love.
  Against all hollow undergrounds,

and clown journalism, your Face, goes blank, and lifeless,
  only digital codes,
plastered loosely,

of record-less content.

Redemption

Everything is existential now-a-days.
I presume, when it comes to the human brain- the way we ponder purpose and existence, 
  that existentialism dates back as far as evolution.



I pick up this blunt as if putting my hand on the trigger.
  Everything is slowed down.  Precise.  Of the moment, second,
by
second,

by second. 

Everything is a choice. 
and following, an equal opportunity for contemplation;
some would argue,

Therefore also Redemption. 

     If I seek Redemption,
it is in the happiness of This life. 


I love God, But do not fear him. 
Rather to be feared is the pain possible of this life,
second,
by second

by second. 

But I would rather not fear,
that either. 

  Precise. 

Calculated.  Cold.  Surrendering.  Nonchalant.  Examining. 
Everything

is existential. 
Including us. 

The Boy and his Bird

I have thousands of women in this soul,
  Tied up in this life,
And the era’s before my birth;
  Bound to histories both buried and excavated.

The woman whom calls herself my mother,
  Between us now,
 Is no Mother I recognize,
  Though I have scoured my beaten heart trying-
  Though I have wept, pled, and bled to understand the sacrifice of such unfamiliarities.

Notions are torrid rains and how friendships change
 And life, as it evolves the decades- regression becoming a fad
Along with Nationalism, it's opposition against a modern book burning.

To fall in love now a days,
  I Imagine is as uncertain as in war times,
Lovers and Fathers, off to war.

Loving has been my War.
  Loving the Truth.  
 
And the truth, loving me back.
Tumultuous, I could never
    Get
Enough, I remember.

I still can't.

  Hatched on the ground,
I attempt finding my way around all enemy territories,
In predators' lands,
                         Everything is larger, stronger, and smarter than

    The shell I stumbled out of.

Yet, here, years later, I am grown and in flight.

I have my wings and but a few scars, forgotten once I take the air again.

I love him.  And he is a Good Boy to Love.
  Found somehow tucked away, as if there all along.
 
A bird can not claim the Air, though she may claim the truth.
  And I am in Love once more,

     it feels Divine this time.  Whole.  Lost.  Luded.  Lured.
Loved.

     Coming to his window, the light is sharper,
My skies brighter,
  A purpose rendered in connection-

A Human Boy,
  Had become mine, this tiny earth creature of but the smallest wings
And most chittering of souls.

  And there I'd wait, somedauys perched upon his sil, and resting in the fragrant shadows and songs under his trees,
     Where they became my tree; and soon I had forgotten any other home.  Soon,
His window sil was all I would remember of Paradise.

  He became my past, because it was always ever, meant to be.
Merged.

And now I remember nothing but this Paradise.  No pain. No reality.  No label to procure, but the freeedom of the Air under Love's Blue skies, and Orchird Trees.

Indebted to my Human Boy,
  I will die here, while he asks nothing of me, Keeping his window open, and not a day once closed.  He has my water and seed,
  And leaves me wanting for nothing;

I see him look for me when I fly away;
  I see a new treat when I perch back home.
I see relief, in this Boy's love of me, giving these human's a grace all other animals stand up to.

He is Love, this Man.
  He knows the God that made him and I.

I think I know,
  Why I've come.

Why we are bound and never sold, but to the other.
   His Love is God's awakening, and I am his bird

Fearing no Flight, ever again...
  A Home, now near by.

A resting place.
Someone,

Waiting my return.

   

Tincture of the Fae

One day,
You will fall in love with me.

My fingers will run your hair, scalp of my tips
Doubt at my bossum,
As you rest your heavy thougts into the blanketed navigation
Of being taken in.

You do not need me,
But here I dwell.
Dwell like a well, on your land.
Emerged.  Asked for.  Loved.

The shame,
  I want to smear it all over my body,
Your hands the weapon,
Your release, my Light.
  Breathe into everything, because Someone is coming to the multiverse with me.
On a cloud,
Elsewhere.
Between the veil; kneel or hail.

My Love is my God, and God, do I love you!
  Tapered and tempered, masks reveal other saids.

My touch a potion,
And of which I wish you to drink.
Needing your closed eyes all over me.
Your lost soul to the touch alone , of Love.
   Let me
  Touch
   You.

Surrender.  To the Hello game.
And if not, my creature,
Then goodbye once again.

Rather I,
Take you into my forest,
And Let you fall in love with what I call home.

Rather I kiss you with the stroke of touch.
Missing my human
  When he is gone and such.

The Snailing

The Snailling:

Believe me child,
  Take heed.  The reciprocity is a callous, ferocious thing.
Life,
    She inhales, and impales, all while bringing breath to thee.

I am a snail, in the morn, when all is sound, and there had been
  So much time, for
                                      Myself.

Now, I am the retribution, of a fierce-hold's intent,
   Falling apart a navigated line,
Balancing one side at a time,
  As Foot occupation's walk,

Had become the tale of me-
Brave and futile.

Snailing,
   Tiny creature now as fragile as me,
How can I cover you, while my morning fades into another day?

My time is wearing thin, and soon the sun, in all it's wholeness,
Shall seek to gobble thee up.

Weary, tiny
  Seat of my soul,
I know
    Nothing  to console you
Of this life.

If ye feast on star berries,
Then your life has been blessed,
  And we have known here,
Patches and field's
of this wonderful bitterness.

A Dune field
And a bluff of mild lore
A song down of Canterbury too
 Our life has been a blessed one,
Lil' Snailing, it's been in the love of two.

Pollination

Pollination

Time.
Time to be dipped in a soil, ripened for gestating
Time, to bask in an underground sun.

Time.  To linger for a while,
Hibernating .  Waiting, for just the right moment,
The right time
To peak one wall's surface
To a dying danger of the light,
Leaving one wall forever behind

Til death once more.

Where once I was intangible, without senses
  Now there is a world I am surrounded by,
And a river that runs close, even though I fear as all the other flowers and weeds,
Just when a rain won't come.

My death to be by the nature of that which I thrive of;
    The Sun.
Mighty Odious Body
  Of everything pervading in me.
  Grieving over, retribution a harmony
Of time lapses
Quadrants shaking loose in dimensional gaps
Jumps between portholes in time.

Time, my Love,
  Time.

Spiraling upwards towards a fray
Onward I bloom, til I turn downward one day,
And away from the sky, oh my beloved blue sun
And towards a curve once more.

Beloved dance
A motion of math, the Fibonacci Sequence
My core vibration outlasting all days and nights
Til at last,I wilt.

I lived my life, full, entangled
Drenched, and parched
Dreading Summers,
And Warful Winters
And Blooming again,
Like a Scotland Spring.
  It was all I could ever ask for.

And so I lived.  Perishing still,
  Downward I go,
Returning once more

To the wall of the underground.

A Phoenix Heart

Maybe if just to tie my heart in a noose.
So to can't fall loose.
So it can't breathe the in's and out's of Men's fickle truths;
So I don't have to hide or soothe.

My heart is a head tilted down,
A flower wilted and drowned.
A solemn division for attention,
Never found.
A weeping epitome
Having lost it's sound.

It is a scream only full of silence,
A desperation knowing no mirror-
What is in me, a disturbing distance
Of having no love returned here.

My value, a bird unreturned to it's nest,
My discipline, the meeting of the rest
I'm walking, walking a shoreline
With only ghosts of love as my past.

Even the faces of trust,
An illusion of shattered dust
Even my faces of Love,
A seizing of rust.

Summer to Autumn
Promise of Sun, unengaged
Temperatures of Warmth
Quickly turning to Haze

My Shoreline, chilly, and so longingly of the deep
I am alone here again once more
Just a Future, a chill, and me.

In the black blue against the sea,
It is not that all is lost..
But I was beginning to Love once more,
And even that's been lost.

One set of prints in the sand,
One thing taken once more...
So used to being taken for what I have,
As quickly as it slips out the door.

So maybe, If just to tie my heart in a noose,
And no more can be taken of...
As a man promises to love a flower,
But how easily Plucked, then given up.

Never knowing,
Never knowing,

Any damage left and done

As if locked away, to be forgotten so, something in me fades
A promise of Love, never honored
A tempest of mascarades.

So what was love,
But a loss of all,
A fire set ablaze,
Unmet and matched
And consuming all
As a spark one neglected to tame.

As easy it was to start something so,
I watched him walk away..
Leaving me in desperation so,
As I burned and caught all in flame.

And yet in a center of Ash,
The dust of condition, my heart still remains-
A pheonix so, but I wonder still,
If to procure death through rope, stead of flame.

Black Butterfly Leaks

No thing can fill a leaking vessel,
And at the seams,
I am dripping dry.

No ration left in me;
What grace?
My Love is all over the floor, a puddle around me bare,
Evaporating
And
My eyes down,

Wondering how a life could become this still image,
This endless leak,
Of myself at my own feet.

Here, I am looking at God, left of bruises as reflections of me, and cries for death that echo whispering screams from my liquid mirror.
The beauty seems trapped in the dark reflections that meet no escape-

A Black Butterfly
Evaporating away.

There is no filling
A seeping vessel; I just leak-

That is what God and I are up to;

We are in me
Dripping together,
Watching, together,
And slowly I am evaporating with the scene.
Drying up.
Parched.

Watching...
Myself all over the floor.

Fire Dance

My heart dies everyday;
You have awakened it's fire-

A vivid portrait, I'm afraid,
Of breathing in slights
I remember now,
Being undeserving of.


You shudder,
And I sway
Just left or right
To balance the trot we tamper with.

As coy and tempered as I, underneath it all stirs relentlessly
Foolishly and weak
Reaping already
Starved seeds sown,

Then plucked.

If it's not seeing me that scares me,
It's being seen.

Rot with havoc, intestines turned,
I Un-nerve, paralyzingly my own body-

The thought of being burned again is a memory of melting flesh and the smell of brazen fire, against freckles for ash.
the scars intrude far past my skin, leaviing the lingering of agony,
Even in the after-math.
What is a burned girl and is she desirable for dance? The dance that made her what she is?
It took me once.
And now, I can't say I recognize what's been made.
Is there still love even beneathe my fresh flesh?
Is it worthy?
Will the audience have me?
Will she ever be loved?
After, all

I am just a burned girl.
What grace in Cindered pores?
What God in ovens of power?
I can't tell...

Has the fire won?
Have I let it?

Neptune

I don't want to peel again,
Or be reborn.

The water in the soil is seeping in,
And what's amassing, a root or a thorn;
inward
Is Stirring a storm.

I think I feel the sea and might
But second-guessed, I linger-
A tree taken away one night,
Awash and all.

Entranced and tracing,
I wade to thee
Upon your motion
And the way we breathe,
Lulled and lulling
Yet can not I sleep.

I wonder what this'll reap?
A relationship of doom?
Faith and death.

As I walk faith-bound,
Hypnotized to the far side of the moon
Entrenched I find myself waist deep
In the thick of you.
Wading,
Wading,

And the tide coming in...

Neptune is an illusion....

But I am staring at it, beyond the moon,
Much beyond,
Knowing he was the last to save me..

Lulled and lulling,
Wading.

Tide...

Coming in...

Devil's Toy

I married you, I remember..
     In a deep shadow under a moonless sky, beneathe rafter-beams, hay...
  You had claws then.  A Demon.

I gave God up.  You hypnotized me with a Love I knew was forbidden.
I gave God up, in those shadows..
And became devoured in our invisible repeats
Night after night,
Where I would weep alone, in my bed..

Wondering not where God was, but Rather you instead.

Funny though...

God
Never
Left.

No.

Just You, My Beast.
Just you.

Path into the Middle-Land

I've flipped. Over my life tangents like pancakes,

Til' they are perfect for the day.  Honey or maple, to a choice marmalade and it's all, a refined dance gone right and wrong.

The "they" everybody speaks of, they whisper show and tell, some of it real...

  I nod my head in agreement thinking off to testimonies my own, and tracing the flash drive of my memory in pics.

If ever such a God does exist, sure I have met "Him" most in peaks of flash dancing rains and shouts to the Earth and all Heavens how much I sync into thee.

Moments of great defiance come in headphones on the streets...role models in ear muffs and parents how likely around?

Of love, I have eaten it bare, fruit and carcasses, partaking in the flesh eating of things...are measures of it washed clean, or already "forgiven" perhaps, and by whom?

Shall we allow ever to forgive ourselves? And what is man?

Refined down like worn jewelry on a weathering woman's hands, I smite the arrogance and yet bow abashedly.
  Exonerate Peace.

I have seen violence breed violence, racism breed racism, and prejudice breed hate as easy as any mind is manipulated.  Compassion will therefore breed empathy, understanding, the same way love might breed a bridging of worlds, healing, comedy, inspiration, innovation...

A feudal Tide, and yet still we are ever so Roaring against it.
                            The Middle-Land.

Beneathe

I am lost In my sexuality,
  Swimming beneathe a dark hole of lucid dreams
And vivid memories.

I breathe the flash liquid of deprivation
And cling to the memory of hands on me at 4...
Or was it age three or six?

Their faces I remember but their fingers I feel all over again,
  As vivid as though it were yesterday,
And I am back there

Suspended in that moment in time.

Scoffed, and scorned, I see through a veiled glass, another world between you and I.

I can almost touch it, stretching, reaching, in the in-between.

Always searching for ways to make sense of it,
  Always wandering in wonder.

Though it be a blemished world, there is no denying some Godhead beneathe the beauty, of any single thing.  Something sacred lies beneath each surface

  And I am swimming in reds and liquid deeps, refraining from lingering
Here

Too long.

I am a rebel, perhaps, whom hates this body...but I seek refinement.  Humility.  Servitude.  

The deep is nothing I can not handle.

The Wine Hour-Glass

Impending,

Pending,

  Liquefying as fluid stardust...

Evaporated.  Dispersed.
Submersed.
  Gone.

Under your belly, I refrain from breath, testing myself,
Gasping and scattering in flashbacks.

  The history of malintent, as extenuated as another blade of grass-

A Hellish karmic cycle of thought prisons and breaking free.

  I have slipped back into some blanket of time.  A reversal of choices made so I can re-choose an outcome.  Sipping on me is as though sinking into an hourglass of continuos sands.
My pebbles-scores of ware from other lands.
  Of pearls or lavas, titanium, or stone, my sands come from a universe.
A sip, starts the journey.

  A sea of definitives, I lumber across the deep red, engulfed in a buoyant repeal of state
I could be trapped here forever, and yet always must I,
Return.

The Seed

       Left taken aback; the wind knocked out of me

As I back to sit, eyes searching, ticking, ticking

To comprehend.

You left.
You always had, left.

And I always waited, a fool bound.  Literal.
And as an Angel.

Smited, it has been another day,
With no words,
No refuse,     Nothing explained or apologized for,
Where I let you splinter my soul, as if to remain, even if only by shard.

When I buried you,
I failed to understand the concept of a seed.

But you became lost to me then
  containing the power only,
To peak back up and see me once more.

I know it was love now,
Because only love can withstand what you've done.
What you haven't.

I'd always simply wished that you would have just apologized.
That you would want to make me happy; that you would embrace our fall towards another sky, some where else.

The reality was different wasn't it?
I felt stripped by the time you were done with me.
Kicked, lost, hurt, abandoned.

Of course I buried you.

You broke the soil though.
And think I not, that you recognize me anymore.

I will always love you.
I can not tell if you know this, because our moments of truth revealed so much more than I'd learned to expect from you.

I had always simply wanted you to be nice.  Can't tell if you ever loved me.
And surely since so long ago,

You have stopped, haven't you?

Well?

Candlelight

The dissonance is a swamp of graves used for growing crops.

It is a world where the region is a lost one on any map, as mind points over  purpose and iniquity, classes and what-haves.

I forget how sad classical piano can sound, even when it is whimsical...
  No telling, if the sadness is mine, or shared by the notes, stumbling over themselves in rush for perfect placement. So smooth.
So loosening.
And grips, they unfold.

My sleep escapes me late into another night.  Nerves twitch my canine and myself.
My mind, flutters, like butterfly wings, against a wind pouring in on draft
Riding, coasting, crashing,
How the little winged thing
Surfs into me.

Hours of the night, a true hourglass, as time itself postulates to the mind and an AM dark hour kept by candlelight.
      Seconds are lost in hours, veils lift, and the cat in me, stays awake to watch the night crawlers walk about.

Ey, it is a late hour indeed, where words are sifted through like ancestors drafting Magna Carta's. I stay awake by iPhone screen, and type on technology.

A new candlelight.
A new Quill

A New Time.

The Dissonance of Graves