along a windowless room
of shadows embracing by silhouetted winterness
I linger where the dark can't reach an edge of light
like a boreal wind born within the cradle of north
dreaming the bleak elegance of coldscapes away
through a never-ending polar night.
This day always comes.
Frantic searching for you in my life...nothing there.
Desperate wanting to hear your voice...no words.
Very few have the elegance of no regrets.
By the way, the answer is yes.
I miss our minds.
You are the Sun
Every beam of light
Tickles my ear
About the sweet
Beauty of your
When the photons
Of your effulgence
Lap at my skin
Into my feathery thoughts,
Floating along gusts
Of untainted dreams.
Every one of them
Is me burning up
In bursts of
your graceful plasma
The sad-faced moon
That eclipses your brightness
Petrifies my heart
Sinking it to the depths
Of frozen lakes, but
My heart glows
With golden rays
I stored away
Within my aortas
It slowly scalds
The azure waters
The frigid nights
And flurried storms.
Fade out eventually
And your radiant elegance
Melts my heart
You light up
My anguished world
Every smile upon
My trepid face
Is a reflection of
You are the Sun
And I am your Copernicus
Someday we will have DJs at funerals.
I should know. I DJ'd a wedding once.
Well I shan't say I DJ'd the wedding.
I merely pressed play on the tiny boom box (SONY) and here comes the bride.
Twas a beautiful wedding.
A black wedding.
The bride was my first cousin Tamara.
Yes the whole thing was beautiful.
Stop it already.
A scant 4 years later I attended her death.
A rainy morning.
the morning sun not up.
I have a photograph taken July 27, 2003 maybe!
My brother her sister and I on a Carribean cruise. I'm sticking a tongue out. I was mad at the fine Bahamian wearing fake dreads making money by posing for photos for the non-natives. But if you bypass my tongue in the photograph you can see her. You can see the foursome of us smiling with some random Bahamian fake dread.
If you look slightly left in the photograph you can see her smile.
Her joie de vivre.
A moment if you will allow me. Away from the boat the Bahamian boys would not leave her alone. They would whistle, catcall, stare and menace. But she was my family. She was my cousin. Her protector and her friend. Those boys' eyes would follow us. But when I held her hand down the boardwalk they did not dare come within punching distance.
I will refrain from her beauty.
Her ability to tell me to 'shut the fuck up' with only a glance.
Somewhere buried I have the video of her wedding.
I can't watch it anymore but perhaps I should.
I need to see her happy again.
Beautiful again and
I am reclaimed by the earth
That does not judge me.
My waking days mark my entrance
Into the jaws of the snake
Where its tail conjoined with its mouth.
These footsteps in the sand:
Circular groove (we are all asleep)
Heads down, trudging
Blot out all dreams
Until the decicive act and the footprints
Lost in elegance our princes fly above
The dark continent
Above insomnia land
Caring from a distance
Blinked once these prism
Caught a glimpse through the
Clouds of vanity;
Just for an instant the umbilical
To go dancing in the
Belly of God.
Looked far in the night
For movement beyond the stars.
A great being hugged the stars
Like the Mother holds her children:
The moonlight interrupted by
A wing-curved tip;
Head bent to the Chalice to take
Pearl occlluded by the darkly-sweet
Charlotte wrapped in silver tone.
Sprinkled flashing lights.
As others passed her by.
She's static in a noisy place.
In a half light of electric illumination.
She was beautiful.
A lady of elegance.
Wanted to go and see her nearer.
View her beauty close.
Want to touch her.
She was immense.
Never felt like this about a female form.
Who is the beautiful silver angel.
She is a carriage on an aged steam train.
Parked at the station.
Labelled with her name.
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Waterborn water horse upon shutter drawn blades,
in the form of these blinds in your face
as you peek beyond peaks in your ability to see..
pixels in the mountaintop, drippity drop drop on the cottages embalmed moss roof,
and a beautiful day, and a beautiful day, and a beautiful thought that told me to say
I felt it in the air when you said that you cared through your fair molten hair on that blonde summers day on top of the rock of Eli, in relay for the slight elegance
upon and underneath irrelevance, and shelf Imams in books on Islam..
Shabat Shalom on Hanukkah.. celebrate the stars insofar as Andromeda,
my mommas thumb on her 13th year, her 16th beer, the work-man's clear intentions with the way he mentioned words in tension, clenching marbles in his startled glance,
dirty minds rubbed upon his work-man pants as this city grows bigger prose in the rows and roads of goals never reached upon the age of 70,
plenty see this creed as Cree in nature,
ship-shaper upon white paper, written in natures hip-hop hater,
forests are erased here.. drugs are never laced here.. I feel like I'm 8 here.. but I'm 8 with a career in thinking intangible all-honesty's on unity..
I see God as the groove master.
I'm just a disco disaster, looking to plaster a little bit of dissidence upon the fence in recompense for the densest chessboard invasion of Kicking Horse pass,
but alas, I broke my arm, wearing a cast you can hope to sign if you wish to charm the devilish sin of sugar-gin, open in to relig-IN.. as in I no longer toke, I Pope..
I wanna take a Pope of every single religiounana,
and see what they saw, and believe what they want, and concieve of their god and impede on their laws..
crows caw, upon a cross and there's a JEEzz-- static discharge.. he interrupts me..
he says to look.. and when I look he tells me to see see see see see, please see, I see what you see, it's not Jeez-me like the Bible Belt.. it's Jeez-US,
we must realize what I meant to grasp as the cusp you have teetered on since before the common age.. each and every all of us is a sage in the same way..
we're all God, and.. we're all God, and.. we're all God, and.. we're all God, and
shake the hand of the rainbows faint glow.. merry old isotope, Santa Claus hippy hope, never tethered hemp rope, old Egyptian space probe, great globe goddess..
Nazi decimated Odessa, I guess us was lest we forget this or get us to pinch out the puss of a historical era of error.. concentrated terror of terrorists in concentration camps..
an oil lamp burning upon sand saddled socks and snow-covered rocks and an old Buddhist templed temperament held in this mountain of tea and honey..
wearing my runny nosed halted-horrific, all-it-every-and-us is this terrific..
my distance from hand to hand is still as prolific, get the gesture? or am I just a cosmic jester?
lesser is best, so lest we forget the rest all congested in bread and butter covered brain matter,
rain shatters flames and her face was the place I escaped for a hit of false tragedy.
i don't know much
about life and love
but i know far too much
about falling apart
and the hatred for this city
and those around you
who watched you fall
but did not extend a hand
to help you up
they simply watched
with looks far too amused
pressed upon lips
that once said, 'i love you'
and eyes that once read, 'i need you'
until you began to crumble
and realization struck
(there were no meds)
(there was no therapist)
(there was no one to turn to)
"it's over and i'm so sorry,
but i woke up one morning
and i just didn't care
it's not you, it's me."
you speak with such
elegance and such class
but it's okay because
"if you love me
let me go"
your tight grip against my wrists
thumbs digging into my veins
teeth clawing into necks
hooked on kisses i never really felt
and words that never really meant
anything to either of us
yet we're here
and letting go isn't an option anymore
i can't get you out of my head
where you got lost in my thoughts
and made a home for yourself
like a parasite
the doctor just says i'm depressed
(ativan, prozac, celexa, ambien)
but no, no, i know it's you
and your slow whispers
telling me how worthless i am
don't you think i already know?
boys are stupid. don't let them get into your head!
to the place where the sun
rises and never sets
until the night closes my eyes
when the shadows are at their brightest
and the trees are asleep
to a place where the moon
shows herself whenever she wishes
even with the arrogant brilliance of heaven's eye
above the transient face of the earth
until she is weary of beauty
to places where the stars
are dancing fairies
with tears made of cosmic dust
and relentless in their elegance beheld
until they descend to our feet
So that we may go
to the place we call home.
I am tied to you
Bounden to this
Love it or loathe it
I'll not leave you here to anguish
The girl's mother told her that Mammy was God
Gourmands hate to be groomed, don't ya know it?
Rheya, I've loved you so
And clutched you through the dead hours of night
Sulfur blazes in my field of view
Sartorial elegance, haute swan motif
We made up this game
Where we would go around with swords abreast
Asking people to raise their hands if they were either a Republican or Christian—and for those whose hands were extended toward the sky—it was off with their heads
And the rest we let live just to tell about it
All in good time
All in good fun