Whisper
Drop peonies in my eardrums
Sew violets under my skin
Take all my fragrance in and
Exhale
Pave a path of fuchsia petals
We’ll share baths with chrysanthemums, lilies, hydrangeas
And crown ourselves in wreaths of all the roses.

Voices whispered through wires and electricity
Voices heard
and recognized
and cherished
Peals of laughter come from closed doors
Remind me, yes, I'm still alone.

I see you, love
Dancing on the line of apathy
Self-deprecating voices chatter away in your head
The light of inspiration has dimmed in your eyes
Your heart beats absent-mindedly
Dolefully complacent are your days
In and out- smiles to fool them
Rotating doors of relationships
Faces change- your role play stays the same

What am I even doing?
This process seems so pointless
Smiles and charities
We all know it's about the drinking
and the ***.
And the coke.
(don't forget the coke)
These girls aren't your friends
they're side-by-side failed clones that
strive to give you validation
excreting words that
you will never need.

When we decided on ice cream
I suggested caramel
sticky sweet
dripping down the sides
I wanted to lick it up and
feel the sucrose explode on my tastebuds
a minefield of pleasure.

When we decided on ice cream
you promised whipped topping
and hot fudge
rich luscious chocolate
oozing toward the edges
swirls of dark intensity
intermixed with bouts of airy lightness
a most delightful contradiction.

With all the imagery that’s found in words
and pictures bound to play out in my head
It’s fair to say this sundae tempted me at waking hours
(and maybe even crept into my dreams)

… it’s quite a shame that in the end you settled for vanilla.

I wanted you to fall in love with this:
A picture of perfection painted well
Content to be a lovely mask you’d kiss
But through my time with you my image fell---
And did I right away share honest words
That dribbled from my lips pathetically
While fearing scorn and judgment I’d incur
Let my tears drop un-surreptitiously.
But now I had no sleek and stealthy ways;
You tore apart my well-crafted façade
I had not seen the brightness of the days
Twas shrouded by opacity of gauze
I did not like this much, I had delayed
Pursuing individuality
And then, somehow, my deep beliefs were swayed
Perplexed that you’d desire the real Me . . .
And now the front has gone, I’m pleased to make
Acquaintance to my Self for my own sake.

I’ve been writing poetry about you on a daily basis.
Shalln’t complain, it’s rare to find such undiluted inspiration—-
Crisp and fresh, aquamarine
-Never such a sight I’ve seen-
And never such a sound I’ll hear
Sweet laughing waters splashing clear—-
Reason comes to stand adjacent,
Thinking me to be complacent:
“Shouldn’t this a worry be?”
She asks, “Your source of poetry?”
“Surely you must be possessed—-
Or at the very least, obsessed …”
“Nay!” I say, and, thanking her,
Turn back quickly to the words
That burble from the fountain’s head
And thus declare my worries dead:
For ne’er should Inspiration be refused
Regardless of an unexpected Muse—-

How peculiar is it
that which tempts me lies in icy blue panther-like orbs
-the clearest deepest purest brightest blue I’ve yet to come across-
and words that dance like 18th-century aristocrats
-balancing baubles and gaud on their faux hair
waltzing and marching in highly practiced steps about an opulently furnished and lit facility with glistening fountains and marble floors echoing flirtations and strings and heels and sneezes into embroidered handkerchiefs-
and how desire has strayed from maintained eye contact and prolonged gentle kisses and subtle smirks of amusement
-bordering on genuine happiness-
and I’m sure
that even if you were to sweep in again
declaring poetry and romance with roses in your hand and one between your teeth
-glittering with all the fantasy an idealistic Me would have swooned for and adored-
or even if you were to creep in again
confessing exploration and emotion with wildflowers pressed in a book filled with soul-searching entries and personal revelations
-glowing subtly with the authenticity all secretly wish to find even a shadow of-
I wouldn’t want any of that now:
I’m drawn to that which dies quickly
but while alive is full of life—
love has been tabled for a much later day.

I fell into your words without a sound
I must confess, I thought them very real
A burgeoning romance, I mused, profound—-
Each promise that you made, I set the seal
And so did I, in daydream, much time spend
And by your face and arms I was consumed
In deep imaginings without an end
And by your love I thought I’d be exhumed—-
But whispered words in darkness are not truth;
When darkness leaves, truth darts away as well
And to believe such lies is to be youth
A paradox of time that aging quells
So did I think your promise absolute
While you intended no fair restitute—-

Copacetic:
attempts of levitation
Elevation to levels you did not wish for
I ignored
My truth in relentless
ruthless pursuit
of symbolic status demonstrating my supposed worth.

Copacetic:
Severed the lock and
opened my box of tools
to set the rules
for a game
I had said I never wanted to play.

Copacetic:
transformed myself
conformed to roles that fit like satin gloves
- if only in my own screenplay -
Downplayed
insincerity
Role played
authentic individuality.

Copacetic:
gulping misconceptions and
Mutually accepting regression to places
we thought we had
grown past and
persistently masked our intuitions.

Copacetic:
We departed
- no verity given or received -
with hearts decreased
in clarity and size
Our journeys lie ahead of us
respectively-
Collectively there's no decision
but to scurry on our own ways
And presently
your days look quite different than mine.

Desire tempts me not in others’ eyes—-
An unappealing animal I see
The creeping flames that lap at others’ thighs
From them I seem to have immunity.
It has not always been this way, of course
-In past, I may have felt in other ways-
But now, at present, there’s another force
That pushes back those times to distant days …
Hot kisses and short gasps in quaking arms,
Those memories would fade away to dust,
Without Love’s blessing, they’ll bring only harms
Cold Emptiness commiserates with Lust—-
And never did I fathom I could be
Content to dwell in such sweet chastity.

At first,
Love was captivating.
a beckoning temptress
with lips whispering compliments
and desires and promises.

And then,
Love was unbridled.
a stallion galloping across terrain
the wind in his mane
vivacious and carefree.

At times,
Love was insecure.
spilling tears and confessions
fearing scorn or withdrawal
twisting with pain.

Of course,
Love was confident.
beaming with adoration:
ostentatious jubilance or
a quiet security.

Strangely,
Love was alone.
ripening and explorative
discovering the importance of
Self before other.


Perhaps there’s no one True set definition
and those who try
to grasp for dictionary restrictions
ultimately fail.

Dictate aloud all ramblings of the mind—
What sniffs and scratches corridors ignored
Articulation: parched and unrefined
Security and peace stay unexplored—
Sweet hopes that sneak inside a quivering chest
And blood that pumps with fervor to the heart
All fears and worries not yet laid to rest
Fond dreams of future far before a start—
How things in thought alone make utter sense
But falter often when in center stage:
Go hasten to lost moments’ recompense
Resume the reading on a proper page—
So venture onward to another date
And realize you’ve the pen that writes your fate.

A thousand kisses touch my lips and flit away
Melancholic butterflies seeking nectar from other empty flowers
Delectable ambrosia? Perhaps —
But leaving the tongue fleetingly
Donating only bitter aftertaste.
No recollection comes to mind with ease
— I think I left cold beds with unturned sheets —
Most satisfied to bear the preface “tease.”
Mechanics are too easy to repeat:
I could write a manual; pen all the intricacies of
falsified intimacy.
Flirtation and coy downward gazes
— Pegs in a game I’ve mastered —
Then when confessions come of great desire
I bite my tongue so as not to repeat “I know.”
I use the piles of hearts to step upon my pedestal
Watching with disinterest as the numbers rise.
My captives swear so many hollow oaths
— and all I’ve heard before —
Uninformed adoration turns to white noise.

- June 07 2014.

Although she was complete and whole
she longed for something to terrify her
exhilarate her
make her feel alive--
a kiss with the knife
slowly turned to a dangerous dance
deterioration
her skin unraveling from her form
but manifesting metamorphoses:
changed in a way she never could have alone.

Goodnight texts;
What goodnight texts?
They don't seem important when
the only goodnights I want said
are those we whisper in your bed.

While searching one day very deep within
—I looked into myself, not to above—
And thus proposed the meaningful question:
“So, what is life to me?” And I heard “Love.”
No other words the voice did utter thence
Only that sweet resounding one did ring,
I wondered how I’d known and also whence
Did my heart know this true; when did it sing?
Then pondered I did deeply for a while
Why such a whimsy I’d declare divine
Love’s naught but good to spark the slightest smile!
But, nay, for it withstands the test of time
Why be displeased what from this resolution?
Love’s presence be more pure than absolution—-

The blood seeps over my fingertips
And I see my complexion from clear glass in front of me
Beautiful still, but pallid and stunned as crimson drips to my elbows:
Love, Love, verily, I’ve killed Love.
"Not again!" a voice howls
It sounds from outside but tingles my vocal chords
And Reason and Logic and Pragmatism join hands and encircle me
Each sporting brilliant new medals on their *******.
"Begone!" I cry, and they coldly smirk and slowly fade away—
God, what a God— why so wretched and cruel to give me this fate?
But God hath given free will
The true shame is I am the one who penned this destiny—
And I see other hearts scatter the floor
Still beating weakly
—Pathetically—
their veins drain from some vicious creature’s attack:
Some evidently wicked hands hath ripped these hearts
fresh from hopeful chests;
I see the red dry under my nails.
But, Ah! Love is miraculous!
Is Love to come and work deep magic and revive these hearts?
Are these hearts to be restored — nay — even one?
…Or am I to sit alone, some proud and regal queen,
Upon a rising mass of battlefield’s aftermath?

It seems I'm caught in a love dream*

Sometimes, often, in fact
In deep unrest I reside
I wonder if it’s really love I feel
Is it possible?
I doubt it highly.
Or perhaps I’m fooling myself—-
Is Whimsy whisp’ring in my ear?
Is Folly fondling my sleeve?
Do they join hands and cavort about me
Gamboling and giggling in my bewilderment?
Has Verity vanished and I’ve made myself companion to droll Devils?
Surround me
For in this state, I know not whom is Truth
and who at present dons Deceit’s disguise…

Our intimacy wanes then reappears
sporadically; how does our love expand?
The time has darted quickly into years
We’ll know not what Fate gives as her command—-
I’m sure I’ve failed to escape clichés;
You make them rise with happiness abound:
“In your arms evermore I want to lay”
… something in you I’ve always known profound—-
But, fear does linger ever in the back,
Dark corners seem to whisper of despair.
It holds the rope, but e’re I give it slack
For it shall hold me not; I have no care.
I know that this relationship transcends
All common sense—- and yet I see no end—-

The keys and strings and knobs and bows taunt
Horse string, shining metal, ivory, silver, and gold—-
Glimmering,
Beckoning
Inclining me to use them
To take them, stroke them, slam them
Abuse them
Worship them
And in my mind
Their chords with flats and sharps and crescendoes and pianissimos blend
Dissonance and perfect harmony battle ferociously
Or perhaps they are dancing?

It wasn’t planned; it seems like much now.
Locking my Self under ******* of “I should”
forced behind the delicately crafted (false) design
of sincere yearning
I’m so glad I have not destroyed potential
by chasing after cries of heart.
And settling in the Remnants of aftermath—
I question whether there will be rebirth.

You might think
I might think
One might think
(knowing me)
I’d pursue
Any and all of the opportunities I’m presented with:
Rendezvous of luxury and seduction
hitched breath and
eyes of darkness
moments certain to make my skin erupt in shivers
and moments that would make my chin quiver-
And yes,
I suppose
it makes sense that pursuits of such intensity would entice-

But when your fingers trace from my cheek to my jaw
and your eyes smile
and your lips gently incline …

I know I’ve lost nothing.

Draw a bar across my eyes.
I’ll try in vain to block out yours.
I miss the wrinkles in your sheets and pressing my cold feet between yours.
Get up, stupid girl
Get up and get on
Time waits for no one:
Time marches on.
Ah, please, can’t I have a minute?  A moment?  Or several?
I’m not pathetic.  This isn’t the End.
But I want to feel this pain
I want to dwell in misery
I want to wrap myself in emptiness and let Alone seep into my bones
Through my clothes and
Under my skin.
It shalln’t be like this forever --or even more-- for long

I can’t decide which is worse
Sorrow or apathy
I’d tend toward the latter
Because at least with the first, I feel
When indifference comes around
There’s nothing--

The smooth marble
A chill like ice
Indifferent
numb
Senseless.
A blade waits
Dull metal
silver
Lackluster.
The hilt grasped
And lowered again
and again
Again and again—
The tears form involuntarily
and fall like abusive raindrops
Pelting down with Gravity’s work
Contributing to the cold of marble.

I don't know how to
get rid of this silent rage
that burns like white flames.

It's never going to change.
It's piled so high
Layers on layers
Strata of disorder
and chaos.
A mess of priorities.
Masses scrambling their way up a staircase
--They never seem to see it shift into a slide--
Entropy expanding
exponentially:
Take a look at the demographics
and the statistics.
Swallow your optimism.  Scoff at brighter days.
Wouldn't it be better if it all just . . .

Ended?

I want to cry
Not because I really want to
But when I cry I feel like I’m doing the whole “sadness” thing right
This?
This.
What is this?
I feel sorrow but
No tears rise
There is no catharsis
No resolution
Just stand-still.

Stand still.
And feel your emotions.

This music
kisses my eardrums
twinkles of light and melodious bliss
shiver down my spine.
Bouts of subtle jubilance
who knew joy could speak so softly?

It disgusts me to think we neglected to give it a name.
LOVE
It was love, *******.

Romance makes me think of you
a soft breeze summons me to sigh
Other couples’ fingers intertwined
Laced with passion that subsides
Contentment in companionship
Just being by their side—
I know a man is not the source of happiness
There’s much richness that this world can bring
Please know I’m quite multi-dimensional
But goodness, how you cause my heart to sing.

Why do I give kisses to those who
turn and go?
How can I be so superior
and share it all with someone who discards me?
My pride:
so tied to
a number.
Dot your i’s and cross your t’s
No one else thinks of your tallies
(you know I hate misplaced apostrophes)
What’s a score board?
Where’s the line to “*****”
Especially when I’ve already whispered fantasies
and profanities to the one who thinks he knows
…and held my secrets…
and glimpsed my soul—-

The moon was bright and ripe and full
The stars would emphasize her glow
A sphere of guidance in the clouds
Eternally in growth
But then a week or so went by
Her brilliance seemed to dim
So speculated we below
She'd finally given in
Then wither and decay, did she
At quite the startling pace
Knew eve by eve when darkness fell
We'd soon forget her face
And then came time while gazing up
We had to squint to see the light
She'd broken down, cast out her halo
Become a sliver in the night
We knew her final breath was here
With racing hearts we stood in fear
So night, once bated, crept too near
And darkness overcame.

I want to leave lipstick prints on the wall
for I'm imagining your presence
and envisioning your kisses
But when I wake
the pink smear left behind would look rather silly.

In Winter
The wind howls, doleful as the lone wolf
The only birds that circle round are
black and laden with death
All the others have gone south
for brighter days with the sun.
In Winter
Clouds once filled with gaiety and light
lose their merriness
Growing dark and groaning heavily
Burdened with loads of furious rain and
apathetic snow.
In Winter
The fox gains prominent ribs
slinking silently through mazes of fallen branches
back to a barren den
No rabbits can be found
their fur has blended in with panoramic white.

*With all that’s dark, chaotic, and alone
There’s question whether such a time will end
It’s rather easy to forget
that Spring is just around the bend.

A wave came last night, arriving with torrential strength, defeating any opposition
Carrying me as I held my breath, while I wondered if my breath would hold
I knew the only way to avoid complete destruction was to trust completely
letting go of the outcome and fully giving in--

and lo, I found the shore.

What a classic answer, yes, just dodge that bullet
All that we expect of you is refined to planned-out prattle.
Expertly reiterate, “No, no, that’s not my speciality!”
Do your values enter in or do you play by the rules?
Tell me, please, what are the rules when you construct them as you go
and
What are your priorities?
Shall you stand for your beliefs?
—what do you believe in—
Tell us?
… I bet you don’t have responses.
Spit your lies; set your agenda.
They’ll all swoon for “eloquence”
Some of us see through façades
while still others stand in awe
—we’re not fooled by shrouds of gauze—
I don’t like you; unimpressed.
But it really doesn’t matter:

the stage is set
the dice are rolled
the drinks are poured
the blood is spilled

and you’re laughing all the way.

Your soul is incendiary
Grappling with darkness
whose inky-black hands long for flames of life.

Raw power
which does not know its strength
soft smoldering embers leap up into light.

Deny it, please, I dare you.
Insist you’re nothing more than chilly blank obsidian.

Tell me how I must be wrong;
I’ll strike up a match.

So then we’ll both ignite—
Best to burn alive
than melt away in ice.

They’re getting younger now, you see
The world’s affecting them too soon
They grow up with such fantasy
And then realize it’s really doom.
The truth: it strikes them swift and hard
And down they fall without a sound
Silent tears and great confusion
Empty hearts in souls have drowned.
Their nation’s pride; what does it bring them?
All religion seems a scam
Curse to the sky in bitter anguish
Screams of “curse it,” “*******,” “****”
Sure, they’ll tamper for a while
***** themselves up mentally
But drugs don’t help escape the fact
The world’s a ****** fallacy
And so then, what’s the point of living?
And is life any good at all?
But of course not, they conclude,
And one by one by ten, they fall.
19, 14, 12, 11,
Children now escape the pain
Bring another to this world: why?
Now it’s clearly all in vain.

I’ve found that to stifle, change it
won’t deter it —- just derange it
Madden, rile up, betray
-see it not a foe, I pray-
I implore
beg, obsecrate —-

Dismayed, you’ll be
and broken too
-there’s such a fate in store for you-
You won't die —demise?— Oh, no
You just birthed a newfound foe
And laugh it shall with your persistence
“…..Quite the futile resistance.”

Silence reverberates
Echoes, expands
—what a difference time can make.
Ribbons of words once cherished and grand
Flutter and waver and fall.
Billows of nothing blow shards of exuberance
Pointed and potent,
Falsified; verified
If They reach your skin, they’ll pierce rather deep …….
…… isn’t it funny how so much can change?

I want hands and lips
I want a dark room, I want tips
of your fingers
and the tip
of something else.
I want
Je veux
I want eyes
Your eyes
that burn holes through my corneas and my cerebellum all the way through the back of my skull.
I want to wrinkle your sheets and ruffle your hair and bite your pillow
and your neck
and leave scratches on your back.
That’s what I want right now.

I wish
I wish I were braver
I want to be in an environment where I can be
Brave
Audacious
My Self.
All I am now are whispers
And I'm worried that
I'll fade into an echo
And echoes grow more distant
as time passes.

I do so well alone
- Perhaps better than most -
I have friends and adventures
Laughter and deep thoughts and daydreams and hopes
And I make great company with myself
I find it grand, being alone
But I’ll confess —
Sometimes
I look at the gaps between my fingers
And remember how they can be filled with your fingers
and the smallest smile will spread
and a tiny sigh escapes.
(My own fingers somehow don’t quite close up the space)

I just realized...
(and it's so cliché, believe me, I see)
That you can't spell "trust"
T-R-U-S-T
. . . without "us"

Making man into machines
Disposable commodities
While the puppets pull their strings
Which is better
Wood or metal?

I want to write that I want you.
How do I explain that I want you?
Words aren’t going to do--
--Except for those that are whispered
Filled with fitting profanity
Sacred to our ears

I miss
Your lips
Fire but
Ice
For your kisses make me shiver
Dance across my skin
Awaken parts of me I didn't even know I had
How can you know
What I have lived in since birth
Better than I know it myself?
Breathe
Eyes closed and
Simply revel in our other four senses
Do not be afraid
When you make me shake
I didn't know that would happen either
No matter
How many times we repeat this routine
Somehow
There is always something new
Something different
Another level
Place
Sensation
Emotion
Loving you is unlike anything I have experienced.

Fingertips. Soft lighting.  A rose on the dresser.  Messy hair.  Clothes on the floor.*
*My God, this is happiness.