JJ Cooke
JJ Cooke
6 days ago

Above, if you'll look,
can be found breathtaking
views to the olden.

A flickering faraway warmth
rests in the vacuum
welcoming souls that peak.

Recall the stage before;
when you cannot remember,
as a child indifferent.

Abandon now, project yourself
to that bright star
and emanate pure contentment.

Burning me up,
wishing for me
to vanish into
thin air.
No, that will
not happen.
I'll write
till my hand
starts to bleed
and then those
bloodied words
fall under your gaze.
You'll read and know
my love for writing.
You'll read and know
I take it seriously.
For I was, I am and
will always be
a writer.

© Ali Qureshi

A writer has to be serious about what he/she writes, otherwise it's no use. What do you say?

Vivid and vibrant against the somber sky,
crimson heart aflame
as the edges darken
to deep violet embers,
an irrevocable token finds freedom
from it's tremulous prison ...

falling

... a final link between two souls;
the last, tangible connection
in this life.
An incomplete span of
memories shared
and dreams lost
hold the blazing bloom
against the stony silence
of the clouds,
scarlet screaming wordlessly
against the slate grey backdrop ...

falling

... emerald leaves rustle
while passing mottled earth,
whispering secrets
as lovers once did,
alone in the darkness.
The delicate rasp of edges,
played by the subtle wind of gravity
as jade travels,
so briefly,
within this russet world ...

falling

... coming roughly to rest
upon the polished, wooden field.
Dark and shadowed thorns,
nearly lost in the mahogany,
wait patiently
while the hues
of life and death
stand starkly at attention,
frozen in this moment.

There was a flower
I often passed,
a small thing of
frail stalk and
delicate color.

Precious to me
for reasons left
unsaid.

Words are often useless ...
like flowers to the
milling masses.
Blinded by loud vulgarities,
deaf to the simplest beauty.

I used to guard my words,
as I would a small bloom
of unfortunate placement,
care taken to shift
the lumbering beasts
only when necessity required.

Prudence failed me in the
sharpest manner,
though I paid the price
indirectly.
I was absent at need once,
only once,
but that's all it takes.

Speak, my friends,
lay down your
words to ward against
the mundane travesties
that haunt every sidewalk
and bar stool.
Place them where they might
trip the common callousness
of the shallow into the
depth of awareness.

Pressed petals,
scentless now,
provide my reminder.

What is yours?

Fonts trickle with
sluggish reserve,
diminishing me in
pained elation
as yet another
conscious laceration
taps the well within.

Arcane characters,
foreign and strange,
seep from the cut to
coagulate in intricate
formations of crystalline
clarity on the sterile
gauze of the page.

Faster now, the
flow increases.
Liquid essence of
cognition mystically
solidified in ordered ranks,
marching line by line,
forced onward as the
pressure of cerebral conception
widens the wound.

My burgeoning vision,
maddeningly indelicate,
cries out for realization
until the last remnants of
resistance are torn
asunder to provide
access to the unbound
essence of myself.

Spent and adrift in the
abattoir of my mind,
I'm left to float on the
curious alchemy of
solitude and the listless
melancholy of artistic triumph.

Gentle fingers trace
the scars of previous
inspiration, knowing I will
bring this beautiful
blade to bear again one day,
carving a path of agonized
ecstasy to the source of creation.

Cobalt mystery, does light bend
a more philosophical ray than you?

So inviting and warm at the surface,
so carelessly frigid beneath;
without visible delineation for the poor,
captivated souls of summer.

What of that great and silent doorway,
wreathed in arbitrary white?
The enigmatic mouth
which breathes the wind
and swallows the stars.

You stare back at me from my lover's eyes, flecked with gold, but still true.
Has fire ever burned a frostier shade?

Is there a hue more difficult to grasp?
A tint more likely to set the mind to flight?
Is there a grander color in creation's palette?
The answer lies between azure and indigo.

I wear a veil
of wriggled lips
and eyes that speak
in civil tongues.
Necessities to passersby,
their hungry curiosity
a hateful inquisition
spewed with grace
and kind intent.

I wear a veil
of clacking teeth
and ears that
tell a tale of here.
Essential triviality,
a grease to ease
my squealing wheels
as silence screams
that all is well.

I wear a veil
of lifted chin
and nose proclaiming
noble care.
A vital link
to bind presumptive minds
within the grasp
of expectation's
calming song.

Faceless pale,
a shapeless shell,
I wear a veil.

In the hush before the curtains rise,
I wait for her,
enamored of the fruit
long cultivated patience provides.

Coy as always,
glimpsed fleetingly at first;
she walks in amber beauty,
stately and serene.

Aria begun,
she sings her silver song and
paints the audience in
diamond dust once more.

"Psst."
The first sweet nothing escapes
from my amber hued lover.
This tart and bubbly genie,
too long trapped in mundane bottle.

Each time some small bit of her
passes my lips,
I know joy.

Alas, though I love her deeply,
my attentions will eventually
bring about her demise.
Then I must find another
and begin anew this lovely cycle.

I am truly blessed,
for even though she soon is gone,
my eyes fall upon her sister,
trapped with four other siblings
in cardboard cage.

I love you more than life itself.
My love is deeper than the ocean
and while I know
there are other fish in the sea,
I'm not particularly fond of fish
and prefer to see you as an anemone,
the mysterious mistress of the depths.

You are a precious flower,
delicate and sweetly fragrant.
More beautiful than a rose
by any name you care to choose,
although I'm truthfully
not crazy about Rose,
it makes this comparison
a bit too obvious for my taste.

My heart burns for you
with the heat of a thousand suns.
I orbit you as the earth does its single sun,
caught in your fiery gravity
as I spin in the dizzying dance
of your hotness.

I'm drunk on your smile,
stumbling through
the darkness of your shadow,
hoping for the simple touch of your hand
and that I won't vomit butterflies
on your shoes.

I am blinded to all else
by your presence,
there are no other women.
Only you, the one and only,
perfect just as you are.
I could never love another ...
unless you were dead
and she had very similar bone structure
or possibly if you cheated on me.

I will love you until the end of time,
I will come whenever you call.
We are eternal soulmates,
two hearts tied together as one,
now and forever.
There is nothing I wouldn't do for you ...
except that thing with the beads
because that freaks me out.

You are my destiny and I am yours,
it was written in the stars long ago
and not a day will go by
that I won't prove my love for you.
Ask and you shall receive,
my muse, my darling dear,
merely ask ...

But not the beads, ok?

 
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