The Leash

They may have taken my beauty away.

Not that anyone would apologize or confess guilt; I am etched

in passing figments of stand-by's and imagination, while the real me rotts away, somber.

There is an abyss that touches deep, God, in darkness.  I know it the same way I could navigate these bluffs, that once used to be home to my soul.

     I take steps, looking down, and forward, watching carefully where I land my feet.  Not that it matters.

all the terrain is Rough.

sweeping symphonies play what is in my world, without all the words, that define and ruin everything.

Here, I may be sad, being swept along, by solitary currents and minor dims.  Not to be judged by nature, but by self, in an un-extraordinary fashion for man.

     We remain small and chambered, as if bound by leash and chair, to nothing at all.

Somehow, I am someone's dog.  Worthless.  Sad.  Abandoned and waiting any minute now...for someone to come through that door-starving...but too desperate to notice.

What love is, is more than our words depict enough- it is inescapable and ripe for seeds and planting. It is a force that moves even the most stubborn, and haunts all those romantic, at heart.

My love, had been vast- stretching far our over planes and across seas of stars, and
taking walk in lucid dreams- it won't end.
Just won't.

My soul grieves, waiting, for a sky without man-mad clouds.

Everything Holy, is being tampered with-

the jurisdiction of my Beloved God, seeming no more here...
where we all call home.
maybe for some;
maybe for some.

But my home is farther, much beyond the sky,
and here,
my grief is fresh.
It eats of my bones and my flesh, demanding of me to be able and void from effect.

Cowering now...the world is a scary place.

My love, abandoned me.
I am alone now, only the leash, a remnant of some other side-
a time when someone cared where I would be.  

What use is it, here waiting, hungry, and hurt?
There is a world outside- a world I fear...
but it matters not.
not.
anymore.

The Crossing

Make sense of it.   

A mask is pieced together and traced back.  

A life is worth more 

Than will ever be spoken of it. 

Stories are told, painted. 

Pages, and scripts, become 

Scenes and things, 

Depicted, wrenched, 

With madness and everything real. 

Languages are sung in different tunes and weaves melodies to our souls 

That not our rational mind can know. 

Lives are told, 

And loving is everywhere, 

Everywhere present with me, the least. 

Cushion is this, essence, 

  That soothes discomforts that come to pass. As do things good and whole, the dance is a taking and breaking of the sea- 

A push, and pull. 

Each life weaves like a ray- 

A vast line, In a vast fabric, 

Connecting all. 

  Doubts keep, like tourments. Up, and spilling out, 

In hurricanes or heaves- 

Things the chest struggles to grieve- 

Her, at Sea. 

I thought I was great once. But life can become so many things. 

I, am a mountain now- a sleeping giant. 

Hard, with bedrock- a form I do not know. A form I am. 

Nonetheless, it escapes me now, because it does not mean anything. 

What reality is, shall I ever know, but that it can break you.  

I do not want the world at times, just as it does not want me. Yet. 

   there is a light that warrants change. 

And I am it. And we are it. But will you come? 

Awaiting, a long while, 

The horizon is setting in shades, and your journey is facing me, the West, but I see you in no vast distance. 

I 

Must cross myself. 

There is a train track. And it is a hidden gate.  

I hesitate. Not sure if I want to take this step with nobody by my side.  

But I muster up and go anyways. 

Because nobody is here.  None but The Sky, The gateway, and me, alone. 

Crossing. 

God give me strength. And Cloak me. 

Together, 

We are the way. 

Life in Seconds

Inside my head- 

    I let you 

In side my head. Drip-dropping trough my core... Thoughts smudged and draining. Down through 

My core, you drip. 

Kiss and forgive, as I will squall 

Sinking, tail between 

  

  I will rise up my head blind, in a breaking morning sun

  Let you in I had, 

And my eyes have paled. 

 Heart sore of bruises, my body reflecting those purple-blues and Browns 

As I think of the ages in a timeless and sour impression.  My flesh holds a much more vast verse, and I have always been willing to surrender. 

I shut my gates. Different cloth. 

You and I, torn of two fabrics. 

Consider the source", repeats in my head- updated reminders. 

Words, your words, so good at punching with affection perhaps In between. 

Matters not. I had let you in; you had got in. But I wonder if I might revoke 

The disappointment of your point of view. 

Kneeling, I am many things scathed and worn- heart sore as beating electricity .

Fainted. 

Never mattered. Much. 

    This life thing. 

Gone in seconds, and who would let it change them? 

Life in seconds. 

And we keep thinking we have a rewind. 

The Poker Trot

Belated. 

Like a sinkhole, the world is pulled in, over itself. 

I love, and it drips off my heart and lips like wet paint and charcoaled fingertips. 

Fooled, I ever am, loving the male gender this day and age- so easily plains float in space, with the threat of one falling off. 

Cowering, I take shelter under my vanity. The world crumbles, and trivial ties are lost in the storm. So are lessons. 

Kissing you, was like kissing in the rain, hair wet, and against my face, along with your hand rearing me.  Yet I believe I must of fawled up somehow, watching opportunities pass in what has become a lonely epitome of the era.  

I loved you for the moment in time you would let me in, and knew, it would not be long before cards are shown.  You won the pot, but I had the Aces the whole time. Your winning hand and mine was mere luck, 

And now, 

We dance. 

War-Cry

Where have all the heroes gone? 

And of whom, I can not tell. 

Are we curled up in our beds, 

Or reading, in our jail cell? 

Where have all the hero's gone, 

Of so few left, I can hardly find. 

Yet still it rests in a Mother's touch- 

A most miraculous form of it's kind. 

Are they invisible? Or as weak as I? 

Can they envision, can they fly? 

Can they make miracles for the meak 

Or can it be true, humanity's a dying breed?

This world has bred nucence around, 

That even the cowardly are no longer sound.  

And masses oh masses, they wretch once more with hate, 

And protest now, that it is the only way. 

The blood is unseen that is spilled; while players take to the field. And legislation is passed on holidays when eyes are array. 

"The Devil, the Devil has crossed" we cry; the breach of the Rubicon at hand. But what is a cry for a warning, when there are no ears left on the land? 

Disdain: A Lioness Roars Back

In the secret cabinet,

I detect fears that reek like worst nightmares, swarms of bugs and things. 

Love, is not like this to men, 

Oh no more, the way blood was never necessary to be spilt. 

Under the carpet is swept maroon secrets and cast away dreams- ship-wrecked somewhere, I wonder if they have yet, 

To discover an island, or land. 

Surrender is the life force of humility. I am perhaps stubborn because too many are not. 

Innate, in green plant form, is miraculous life. The color of life gestates as Gaia's womb, where faery magick is once again made whole.  

Tribes die, and rebirth, and you and I have met again, have we not? Perhaps? 

Nay. Even as a psychic, I tell you, it matter not, where u come from, but rather 

What you be. 

Who do you be? 

Action is the divine mark of God. Repentance another. Correction another. There are many, and where the ships have set for Hates, I escape. My soul is free- God's never choosing for me. 

The Walk & Company

Delicate, 

In a turtle's nudge 

Is strapped my refuge. 

Carried, across a distance surmountable, 

Is a love, much like the bodies of heaven, 

But here it dwells, 

A toppling universe, 

Inside this dark hollow body I carry atop my own. 

Love is the refuge, 

Dwelling in homeland, once..more, 

And for all. 

You, there. In my dwelling, 

And vast hollow space, 

Of spindling stretches

And no shortage of extension. 

I love, in here...walking a vast desert plain, and you, always the clouds beyond it. 

I will remember your face and heart, like a Hopi Master in the Sky, and Mother Gaia below, as two great heads that have revealed me, the face of God; 

Just as you have, 

With your joker self. 

Embodied is every dry, 

And rejoiced again

As I walk this plain. Stretching my limbs towards a distance I may never see, 

There is a great love in the sky, 

And it is walking with me. 

Tao Now

Dare not you, 

How you know I. 

And no fool. 

But bittersweet life-rains. 

No fool to death, but ever stumbling on gain, before once more, 

It is lost.  

Death is a hand of setting sails to sea. Wartime ships that drums from deeper intents by a King.  Indeed, 

Only one Kingdom I know. 

And it is the mountain of the anointed. 

Anointed here, 

Once more, 

Rearing up, in all forms, 

Postulating between turbulence, Rife, innocence, and peace. 

Quivering with an old man's brow, and older the body. 

Attempting to mold things, 

Though I am a seer. 

 

Gravity's are heavy, like a drumbeat, and artillery- 

Like the sign of the times never to be the same- entering a moment, knowing forever we will come out of it 

Transformed. 

Entering it; we have already. 

Knowing. 

Like simply every providence from heaven. 

Cycle is death, and destruction. Change over time, and rebirth, of grasses atop charred bone and wood.  

It is nature. 

We are simply 

Of it. 

The Spider's Dance

A spider, 

Swaying to the long spin of a single web, 

I am the alone centerfuge, 

Against a midnight deep and speckled blanket. 

The wind, dances me and thrashes as fear plays to the bounce of sharp jolting, and long glides as if tip-toeing on the air itself. 

The sky, not just God's blanket, but mine. 

The wind, not just God's kiss, but Her breath, her heartbeat, her rhyme, 

Her Womb

Odyssey

I am

   like a s
              u
                nc
                   k
                     en sh
                             ip
                      trudged up and stuck

  in old mud, thick from
                                      recent rains.

              wooden and soured,
  my boards lay now in wet splinters
            and dreams lost

    of anywhere to go.

my soul lays here,
ship and all,

unable to release what I thought had been me-



but My soul lives on,

   examining the death of my body.

free, and bound, a ghost, as ever.

Will a ship get to return home,
   if her Soul is abandoned

and laid
  to sea?

Shadow of the Knight

Never a White Knight,

Much rather, a demon's shadow. 

     You will never rescue me, 

Or come to my window, 

  Or understand the tears that keep my heart light by crying mascara clear. 

The dark in me, once hollow, has reared, and is a hell of a Shell.  

    The air and sunsetting are ever temporate to the ways I have loved you and always will.  Needing to say adeu 

     To you, 

And having ever tried; 

  This hour a bit more different,
and these eyes, more many times died,
     means simply, 

I have a different resilience this time... 

  And loving them, has helped me, to poison the umbellical chord between you and I, that keep this pull a go.  

Nay, it was not because they have loved me better; rather because, they, like you, all had the jaws of a snake. 

     If anything matters 

         Anymore, or ever- 

I could not tell you. 

     All I know instead, is how the fire has forged me, taking with it, even my sanity at times. 

     The fire does this,
                not? 

The Dream.

I loved you far, into a walking distance, of realm and oblivion. 

You stayed, merely, walking circles, on flat planes. 

I offered you my wings; and you tore them in disdain. 

Little boy so dead, love in the smallest of things, and I know you do, 

And I know you keep quiet about it. 

I love you. 

I have for a long while now, hand in the fire of your disregard to burn. 

Angel turned deeply in; you force me in, to know the pain you have concealed a remote to. 

I dreamt you held me, while I, on top of you. I kissed you where you pressed back into lips you have felt, and I could feel the doubt there too, in that space, 

In my mind, between us two. 

    you looked into my eyes.

 And I could feel your lips,

 there, In dream of flesh and allure. 

I looked back into you, examining the doubt in my fear over you kissing me back. I didn't know then... 

That I was dreaming. 

And probably, 

Just saying 

"goodbye". 

The Prayer Stool

Is it because I think about you?
Lost already, I had had nothing to lose. Lose but gain,
is but every breath of my soured and honorable life.  No lie. 

My knees kneel
  gestating loyalty beyond the word;
I call it fervitude.