River running..

That rushing sound in these parts
spell out the words, crystal-clear..
Tree-lined banks, giving way
to the Dark Hills,  upslope

Giving way,  to
granite-rocked outcroppings
giving way to  elk-hidden quakeys
Surrendering their holy-huddle's
pristine stances
to tall  prairie-grass, waving
wild raspberries  and tall pines

    And I,  myself.. 
    am surrendering also
She is watching the water, believing
That as it flows,
she will not lose herself in it
That it will not steal,  but heal

That I will not  rage again
within my fear

I am watching her,
watch the water
I am watching the water--  believing
That as I give  of myself
further  into the flow

that I will not become  diffused
by humanity
By the love  of man
and all  of its dishonesty

and all  of its  diabolical treachery

Of its  lack of concern,
or understanding
Or ability to break through
its own,  self-centeredness

Or its need  to swallow me up
    into the mundane.
Her hands are in the air now,
praising..

Worshipping
the true nature  of the flow,
Believing..
that I will let all of this, go
And as she  wades in
I ease, back--

Retreating
up the Dark Hills, *****
Clutching tightly..
To granite-rocked outcroppings,
  weeping.

Hiding in the quakeys,
among the majestic elk
Begging for the tallgrass, cover
among the wild raspberries.
   Now, fully concealed
   in  tall pines.

Her hands
are stretched out,  now..
as if hovering  over the waters,
participating

While I hide  from it all

While I hide,  from humanity;
From the fallen,  love of man

    She is wading in,
    Believing
.    
As I am leaving;
Believing

    As the cloud-hidden sky,
    starts raining--

playing the most incredible, of tunes.

   The killer
came crashing down
smashing,  thrashing through.

What is tender's  tender
       so  for itself,   to do?

        --As it runs
        right over the top of her..

       This taker.
       This killer.

In the black,  
now in between;
so lightless and thick..

        blotting out  all screams.
There is an annihilation  here.
A void.

A terror.
To stay, means certain death

      but to leave  
      also means certain death
      So the  d is m e m b e r men t   begins
      as she is ripped, completely into half

And those halves,  into half..

.. into half

--into half..
        into half.

     And still it tears.. rips..  shreds--
Until all,  in between
is nothing  but black.

A black it can now  pretend to fill
with all of its empty promises..

and all of its counterfeit, everything.

..And then--  just up and leaves
once it is fully satiated.
     And for a while..
     the black had something.


Clinging to the rocky crags
on either side of the unlit valley
are now  the pieces of her--
war-torn and shuddering.

Terrified

Of the black, black   empty.


Of what is now  fully
     and  completely   dark.

      ~       ~      ~       ~


Timmy  ain't real tall
but look at his stature,
as his majestic strings   dialogue
the introduction.

And Warren's gotten so fat
See him now, looking so dearly,  back
at his half-pint of Chunky Monkey--
picking it back up,  for the fourth time..
scraping... scraping.. scraping..

But watch his eyes  light up
as Timmy looks up--
  over the top
of those wild-man RayBans

And with a gentle nod,  it all begins..


-- as our Warren  now digs  deep
into his Gibson's beautifully-wanton  ways..

    identifying.


    clarifying.


­    Rectifying.


Clarence, the Magician..
Stephan--  Humble, Unparalleled
And Dave's  so chill
he's part Creole.. I just know it.

So great a cloud of witness:
surrounding you, my beautiful..

coaxing  you.

    Identifying it all for you.

Hands  formed into a fist
her jaw, set..

****.
She's gonna slug me

     "You opened up a thirst in me, Paul.
      Are you going to see it through..

           or just stand there?"

Her war-torn, Mesopotamian spirit
Bringing fire to those beautiful, Baltic eyes;
A direct descendant of all things, Telmun
She is waiting on a Pearl
Waiting,  for the Pearl

     Archipelago of Virginity
       --Beautiful girl is the Pearl

After gazing at her stunning beauty
I turn back, and resume the task
of digging with a small trowel
into the  dark, loamy soil

She slaps me on the shoulder,
tears  streaming from those  dark
sky-filled eyes..
              "..I  thirst"


Ladles   are made for love;
In abundance, they bring drink
to those who sojourn,
  those,  who wait

   And it  is  I
who have  allowed  myself
to become distracted,
  as of late--

Holding out  for beauty
When all along,  Beauty

Has been holding out  for me

It is not a lake of fire,  sweet one

It is a place  that tells us
  that we are Loved


The only thing that burns
is the View,  seen from a distance..
from across the Chasm

--One that,  before its over
will no longer exist.

True story. xox

To write what you live
and live what you write
is not a success at all..

It is a spiraling down--  
away from this world
and always always
in  to bitterness.

Most who have done this
have slipped away
in to  alcoholism..    
   or  eased back
with the weight of their bodies--
   tightening the noose;
They gladly  gladly  gladly    
leave the pain  of the gap

of every single part
of having to live here
In a world full of souls;

hell-bent on marketing,
    and presentation.


..But guess what,
my beautiful Lovesweet:

To  not  live what you write out
(just another form of creative marketing)
puts your head in the noose also
So either way,  you're ******

God bless the ones that can see this..
yet, still leave their mark..

    and then die,  
    with both middle fingers
    fully extended

To want to learn how become comfortable with who it is
that you are.. within your own skin, is the  firstfruit  beginnings
that will lead into the healing and resolve of your  inability
to be alone, and the overwhelming need of your  current
emptiness to have its debilitating loneliness filled in ways  
that in the long run, bring about more harm into your world
than good.

What I brought to you involves the less traveled road  that leads
into true healing and resolve of this primary and current
issue of yours..  
    but at this point, that is not what you want.
The emptiness  you will now have filled in your own current way,
   but it will come at such a cost.
You were built to become healed into the fullness
of who it is that you are..
and the comfort within your own skin
that fullness will bring to you..
and therefore to your whole household.

That process takes time.
It is difficult and uncomfortable.
It takes trust and the desire to truly love yourself.

I did not lie to you.

You can start again with a different supportive,
loving friend..

if you are fortunate enough to find one.



I hope for you that you do.  
xox

There is a responsibility, borne
within an online conveyance
   of the heart
when it comes to publicly posted poetry..

For within the conveyance of words
released into the Universe..
(words once residing  within
the inner linings of heart and soul..   words..
now made seen and known  to all)
is the deeply embedded DNA
of the author,

wherein lies the accountability;
when those words,  bearing
genetic imprint
enter into the heart of another.

I write  specifically
over things touched within me
But try to convey it
in a sense..  Universally

so that it might be taken  in
by any and all

.. That the benefits of Love's beautiful ways
may find access into the parts of the heart
that need it most..
sometimes, sneaken in  and finding root
before the receiver is even aware..
bringing, inside the recipient's skin

    healing

     But also the potentiality
     of becoming hurt.


I am sorry.

You
(and most everyone else in the world)
rarely, if ever..  talk to me.

But I watch you just the same
solely  by what you write.
My existence causes pain.

     That..  I know.

I love you more
than you will ever know.
I would stop writing,  but I don't know how
There's not a 12-step group
for these things

I dream of one day being killed
for who it is that I am.
I dream.. and then I smile.
But I do not smile at all,
the times I see that you are hurt.
I have real arms,  
   ..within this poetic world
   that is so very intangible--
When you cry,
they could not truly show you
it's okay

They cannot show anyone
that it's okay
Everyone's afraid of me
like I'm some kind of perpetrator
So I will die alone..  judged
for things I have not done


So I am sorry, my Beautiful--
It really is all my fault
for ever truly wanting to see.
   All I ever wanted to do
   was become able to see

and overcome the  hurt
that  long ago so horribly hurt me

You've become hurt
by my ability to see.

I'm sorry.

You see, kid..

(it's like this) :
With every door,  closed
another one   previously unseen
opens up  fully..

   The moment  I lift you
   and press you   up
   hard,  against that of the last

      ..Call it,

"A little Mommy and Daddy time"
once the children of the world
have fallen  peacefully asleep..

In fact, Love.. call it  anything
  you want

There is a price to pay
for a life of Courage..
In as much as there is
a Payment  to be received

   that may.. (or may not yet)
        have been  received.

Consider also, Love..  the  cost,  
as to  how utterly Incredible  
(it is going to be..  to be able to feel)

        What  it  is  like


  to Truly  become Paid in Full

You are absolutely beautiful--
Immersed within  this magical-Unfolding
as music  mates to words
Fingers, strumming now

Now finding their perfect placement

     ..On the keyboards
     of her newfound freedom
     A beautiful spirit   now returning
     to a once-little body,   beaten

     for being her beautiful spirit's  home.
     Now with headphones  on ears
     there is a  restoration

     of years and years and years,  
          locust-eaten

...Of those years, and years, and years.
                   .      .      .

Tell me about pure Joy, churches..
the nice cars in your parkinglot,  
    aint showing

The look on her face, while untethered

     tells me everything
     You can only dream of
      ever knowing.

This is true Church--
This beautiful  Sunday-mornin' glowing
This spirit-infused flesh

A perfection of music
momentarily, flowing.

From hidden cloud
her flesh-infused  spirit
is my one chance
at pure Joy, knowing..

My love  for her,
continually-growing..

     In heart,
     tarred-n-feathered..


     In Art,  all  hers
     I  am  become

       Untethered.

******* ****** demons.. they're everywhere.
And I've known it about this site
for so ******* long.
And the witches..  Jesus Christ--
control freaks,   every one of you.

What..
do you think your creativity 'substantiates'  you?
They're   just   *******   words.
Your creativity comes with an accountability
but you won't have any part of that..   will you..

If your demons are so ******* powerful,
why do they hide inside of you?
Like a pathetic  excuse of a man, stepfather--

Using..  using..  using.. his wife's beautiful daughter..
over and over and over and over again.
It is no different with these Unholy shitbags also..
(Oh, but don't I gather the most followers with my words?)

It's just empty ******* babble, Babe.
In the Realms,  it means nothing.
Absolutely.   *******.   Nothing.
The *******, inhabitor is just an extension of your
empty, ever-controlling..  soul stealing Mother--

    It's an extremely-closed loop, Lovecakes.
                End of ******* story.


******* ******* demons..
the pathetic ******* are everywhere..

Compartmentalized;

..An elevated view  of you
shows booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,

.. after booth, after booth
   Each one  partitioned  with

an impenetrable  curtain
hanging off of  a bone-frame
stainless steel  pipe structure,
Built high enough  for the
different parts  of you
to sense, but not   feel..

what part of you
is in the other booth.

   Problem is,

You want and expect
me to orbit around it all
as if each isolated part
   is,  in itself..
actually the whole you..
when I know it is  only
a  tremendously-lonely
    part of the whole.
And you take love  to be
some form of blindness
  on my part

--to the elephant in the room,
And I tell you I love you..
And I tell you,  

               "No.. I won't do it"

--And your shame  kicks in
causing you to  feel
     I'm too harsh..

        or being judgemental.

Yet all along, you are knowing--
That just a few moments  with me..
and the walls come tumbling down.
   .          .          .          .         .          .          

When the partitions  drop
(that is your terror)
(that is your horror)
You will not annihilate
into a million fragments  
   of nothingness

The you(s)..  of you
will meet one another
for the very first time
since you were first  dismembered
(fragmented, so very long ago.)
You will not  disintegrate, love..

You will  Re- integrate.

Love does that.  It does.
But you already know that.
Yet still you hide (.. from me.)


You are addicted  to the 'comfort'
the partitions's isolation brings.
Your relationship is not with
the sum of the parts  as a whole..
but with the internal  "construct"  within you--
  the chasm..  the gap..  

--the empty space between those parts;
as it uninstalls one part of the intricate you
and re-installs the next

And you have no idea   how to
   orchestrate
the many different parts  of you
   like a conductor would do
   with his orchestra..   therefore,

You can only be in relationship
with one part of yourself at a time--
..Each partitioned  'self'
has an e-mail address
Each one  has
a separate account  of its own..
Each one,  within itself..   convinced
that it carries within itself
its own, separate genetic imprint

Each one,  you can  milk  
within its incompleteness
     as if it in itself,   is complete--
    .. Flaunting it, flaunting it;  
    as though it is the complete you
  while all other necessary  parts of the whole
  remain dangerously dormant..
   --being Unholy-ghosted  by

    whatever currently-visible part of you
    now  has control of the ship.


--And throughout the years
I am expected to weather the storm
and gather  pieces,  from pieces..
and then magically (oh.. I can..)
piece them all together as I speak to you
without you having to even  feel
the tension (absurdity)  of the
mis-placed  accountability
   (and responsibility)
    to enter into love
    as a Whole (the sum of many parts)

And so here I am..  orbiting    
    orbiting  orbiting--
around your ever-changing  mood swings;
        the   "Paul-is-good,"  one day
        and  "Paul-is-bad,"  the next,
       (those ever-changing perspectives,
       gaslighting.. gaslighting.. gaslighting)
   --in order that you might  remain   'the same'
   based on whatever current-visible  part of you
   is currently at the helm..

       The current pilot of the ship
       wholly unaware of the leadership styles,
       opinions and views of that  of the last.  
Harsh sounding.. I know..
(but you know..)

And so, here's the rub--

You are feeling your days
to be numbered..
You have been around me
too long, love.
(that is your fault)   You knew.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4159831/tourniquet-smiles-yeah-that/

I wrote that  such a long time ago


We are getting closer to Home, love.
I wrote this strange little ditty
before I wrote that other one..

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3383529/fragments/

What you have feared  most
has now given way
to the sound of inevitability

   (You should have ran
             ..but you didn't.)


..The sound of inevitability
 isn't really a sound at all..

..It is the  sound of you  still
  standing there.❤

You have to stop giving it so much 'power'
beautiful girl..
It only knows   to do
what it knows how to do--
(And be, what it was formed, to be).
And if you go  through life
never feeling  the deep value
of your beautiful,  True core
In the end, you will not
be held, accountable...
--which is the very reason
for your current 'squatter's creation

..I see you.❤

.. fully give it a try;

Why not  just
fully lay it all down

    and roll them bones?

They say,  "God, in us"
  and "God,  with us"

but does anybody  really
believe that to be true?

What if it is simply this--
That in order  to save us
the image was placed  in to us
         of  Pure  Being
   .. and you wonder if there is
   enough of it  within you
   for you to give it a try,
   so I say to you, this--

There is enough of the Absolute
within you, not only to save you
but also  the whole world, entire..

--A whole world that is filled
with all of creation  that each
has within them   enough
to save not only them
but the whole world, also
   in its entirety

It is not outside you
it is not  of  you..

         .. it  is  you.

and also in you  is
every single part  of you
(or better said,
the you that you 'think' you are)
which is the parts  within you
  that refuse  to
  get out of the way
of a Power  great enough
to save the whole world..

that resides wholly  within you.

You want to be more powerful
than that intense of a power?
   You can.  

   Through the freedom
   of autonomy. .    Boom.

..Until the end of all things;
when your  current
power here on earth
becomes  no power

whatsoever,


  at all.

She is hiding behind her projected frumpiness..
but when my young lovely takes off her glasses;

   Ah,    ****..

Those eyes are the reason men were given theirs.

Group facilitator is Christ incarnate..
                                      I am sure of it.

     "How well do you want to get, Paul"

I look over at her--
curled up on a chair pad..
hiding,  wondering
Looking down.. and then looking up at me
wondering if I'm gonna answer him;

      "Paul?  Are you there?"

I stare at her--  all alone,
biting the back of her fingers
fighting tears few in this world
would understand


There is roll-playing  in the group
using both action and Word
   to climb all over me
   and uncover me from where I hide.

He (my Jesus with an MA)
is staring at me,  inviting
I look back over at her
"I'm not leaving it, Dave"

              "Leaving what. Paul?"

"My brokenness..
its shattering of my soul"

He is staring at me, but begins to smile.
I look over at her,  and just know

  I will be with her forever

Word and thought exist
in their unformed state
within the Aether..
which in itself,
is without beginning  
nor end..

And so it is within that union
into the Perpetual
that words and thought
are metabolized into existence..  i.e.
"Brought out into the light of day" ..
within the working  agreement
of body, mind, soul and spirit..
which in part, is of the finite..
    and in part of the eternal..

Which all,  in itself
places us in commune  with the Aether;
(and all of the spirits  within
that it contains)

And so the circle of inspiration is complete,
      but clearly..
      not only is it without beginning,

          but also..  without end.

"A 'sociopathic perpetrator'..
we will ghost him  forever"

But what is this  thing
  she feels..

Why is the picture  painted
so very  different
   from  the  one
   she now  remembers?

"We will help her to forget."
            .      .      .


The saving of one's soul
from that which would steal
is not done  in violence
   (Though it still   feels
   that it should be)

It is done in patience,
and in reminding one
of who it is they truly are.

     Tell me,  world
     of who you think
     a father  should be

And watch  me laugh
my mother-*******  *** off.
Tell me all about it,  world.


  And I will show you all
      what truly saves.