Standing by the mouth of the volcano
looking at the fjords so far below thinking
people have told me it's not hot in heaven
come up here and find out, then your know
The clouds kiss my cheek as they pass me
this truly is a paradise from natures heart
such Goliath's in a child's playground
we the children of the universal kick-start
This wonder rock of our birth
we should love it like you would
if only more knew her name
Not as Earth, But Mother
My wonder rock
you really rock me
I love you
as you have loved me
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
It's been a few months
Maybe a few less than it feels
Since you ripped us; your head and our heart
The leaves have gone from green to vibrant purples, oranges
And other colours you couldn't see
Your funeral was nice, quiet, simple and not made a big deal
We didn't bury you naturally in the forest though
With a proud Oak above your head like you wanted
That made me mad, you won't live on like you should have
You were buried in an anonymous graveyard
Which held some importance to the people that knew you least
I visited your gravestone more than a few times
Everyone, the whole group and I have
It's a cold gravestone, more ornate that you would have wanted
That simply reads your name
Followed by January. 30 1996- August 17, 2012
The 2 words and 4 numbers that add up to 4058
Don't do justice, don't sum up your life quite right
At least in our eyes it doesn't...
I know you would have just wanted your name
Or nothing at all since they killed the forest you had in mind
"The tree will live on, I will rot and my body will be used
To create a forest, to create life"
Is what you always said
But you shouldn't be surprised by all I this like I am,
Like the group is
No one it appears, ever listened to your muted voice
Halloween came and people celebrated by wearing masks over their masks as you'd say
"The ghosts and ghouls and goblins
Are much better looking when people think
Their being clever and finally letting them down
Because it's Halloween and no ones paying attention because everyone's doing it"
It wasn't the same without you
Everyone came over but it was quiet and awkward
None of us covered our masks like everyone else
Rather, we all took them off for another night
Sitting around, talking, laughing and spraying blood on the walls
I decided I'd give myself a tattoo
To remind me of you and something you said a really long time ago;
Keep your feet grounded and so I did
An arrow pointing down on my ankle
Just as a reminder
I did it with a sewing needle in my room
While the group watched and provided expert commentary
They all wanted one but they didn't
I don't care if my parents find out
And I don't care if it gets infected
I did it for a reason and I'll stand by it
It'll kill my dreams of the military
You told me but I can't say I care anymore
My dreams died when you did
When the light from the darkness shine's in bright like a diamond, paralleling your face is the
reflecting the moon light off your, sparkling eye's, My heart starts to beat. Our eye's
locked in love, embracing holding each other, separating only with a tug, only his arm's do you ever feel,so much love affection dreams paragliding,in forever changing winds inside my mind, Blank pictures began to feel, with seductive images that cloud the mind like a stormy day.
pillow's began to pop! as the goose feathers fall down like snow flakes on a
white Xmas,our body's began trusting sweat start to poor,we breath simultaneously as one hot oiled up hands wont stop moving across your tight but fluffy frame that keeps calling my name echoing between the sheets/ free at last/ free at last/ thank God almighty we are free at last .
Well you know that I sip on my sadness, my dear,
Filthy palms, filled to the brim.
And I know that you watch those trains passing by
Dizzy eyed, still drunk with sin.
Your teeth reek of reality lately,
You smile facts, figures and cracked calcium.
Now, once more with cupped hands leaking, shaking
Delirium up to your chin.
Well I know that I’ve missed the point, honey
I should get it tattooed on my wrists,
But you know that you talk like firecrackers
So flinching gets awful hard to resist.
I make believe that I’m right like craters
make moons believe.
So I’ll comment on comets and ignore truths
popping between parentheses.
You say, “It’s fiction we live in
You play in pastels
and fake hollywood rhythms
and I’m tired, staring up at your screen.
You're addicted to this diction
My voice is lost, screaming
these words you keep stealing
and twist for yourself what they mean."
Sometimes we sit soaked to the waist in nothing
Fringe Wolves snarl, drool and moan;
I’m afraid that this desert’s left them starving
They crave marrow within bone.
Dripping teeth, curled clawed toes and howling
I swear they feed every time that we breathe.
By cinderblock, flashfloods or whirlpools
Just drown us properly.
Well, one day we’ll resurface to find ghosts reborn
from hallowed shells of Fringe Wolves
Who waltz wicked and crooked a foxtrot to show
sometimes loss is beautiful.
And when I ask for your hand you’ll look tragic
like you never saw what I see
When you walk away, I’m toe-tapping
to some song you kept whispering.
You say, “It’s fiction we live in.
It’s intended for men like you,
but I've watched you drain out in my palm."
This clothing, from bedpost to box-spring,
It's all wax-coats and smoke screens,
live lit-candle lasting
When did skin begin to fit wrong?
So when they ask for me at the after party
With neon eyes and harlot tongues,
You can tell them I traded this stale air in
For forest fires and tornado lungs.
'Cause I’ve been reading up in matchbooks
how to ignite with star-gazer eyes.
So feel free to maintain your Truth
but pardon me while I burn up in Lie.
Memories like eggs
Bought from the store
Cradled in cartons
That are all to easily
My memories of you are
16 years of memories
You broke them when you
You eyes so bright, now
Hands so strong, now
Your words so sure of themselves, now
You’re not you when you’re
Your head balanced on your neck
I want to reach out and stop your
You’re not you when you’re
I knew her as the new kid
who liked music that screamed
but who sang in the choir
like a songbird on steroids.
I saw her in the hallways,
tall, but somehow so small
like a puff of air
might just topple her.
I saw her clothes get darker,
her sleeves get longer,
and her eyes retreat into her skull
because hunger drew them back in.
I heard her voice grow soft
in the choir she loved more than life,
and suddenly her lark's lilting melody
was no longer ringing in my ears.
I heard her sigh more than laugh
and I saw the stars in her eyes
get devoured by the dark,
that all consuming black inside her.
I felt the razor bite her skin
to let some of the darkness out
or maybe is was more like
she was trying to let some sunlight in.
I felt her pain
on that night where she sat on an unmade bed
with her hands around her neck
and tried to mute her beautiful voice.
I know her today as my friend
who still listens to screaming music
but sings songs of joy and love
louder than anyone else.
my pen crawls on this page
like fingertips on skin
as I image us feverishly chasing each other
from the outside, in
the Scarecrow stares straight
and never blinks
he thinks, but never speaks,
just listens to the writhing vines of bindweed:
Turn the earth, sweet arteries.
the Scarecrow was once a man.
He had hands that knew
perfect flavor of skin
And had red, winding veins of his own.
But that was a long time ago.
the Scarecrow blistered his tongue
on blunderbuss barrels;
Waged war against himself,
and lost his speech when the time came
to beg for forgiveness.
That by August, the Scarecrow's
Blood forgot to boil,
or simply didn't care anymore.
That when he found love fleeting
it was indifference, not hate,
that desiccated his chest
like prairie drought.
Dear Hollow Martyr who fears not
the white heat of sparks
or dry-weather wildfires.
Stand devout in your inertia,
bleeding apathy like canyons bleed echoes.
After all, it's all you've got to offer
except dead stillness, they say,
so callous it keeps the crows away.
falling in love with him
was a lot like
getting a degree in fashion,
and then spending
my the rest of my life
I fall, helplessly into the meadow. The tall grasses embrace me with their long fingers. The soft yellow bells droop down onto my cheeks. They cover me in their sweet scent, and the warm butter sun melts onto my face. I push myself up with my arms to gaze at the sanctuary around me. A gentle breeze wisps in circles around my head. Several stray strands of hair dance on my cheeks, and catch in my eyelashes. I pull the tangles away from my face, and stand up. I am surrounded in a barrier of ancient willows and maples. They seem misplaced here, old, wrinkled, and sagging. For the rest of the meadow is a swaying sea of oddly touchable pastel flowers. I bring my hands up to my head, and touch my hair. The light is warming my agave colored hair. I step forward, and laugh melodically at the feeling beneath my feet. The soil is welcoming, and the long tentacles of the green grass tickle my toes. I realize when I look down, that my feet are bare. I forget what happened to my sandals. In a flash, the thought of how I arrived here passes through my mind. And then it’s gone.
The grass whispers and brushes, rustling a delicate sound. But apart from that, there is only one sound. Somewhere distant, somewhere unknown, my ear catches the music of my childhood. Ocean waves, pulsing against the earth. Suddenly, a current of air snags the light fabric of my dress. And with that current, like a child’s kite, I am picked up from my feet. I can feel an indescribable sensation in my stomach. It flutters like the butterflies that float around me. My feet pedal like on a bicycle, and I roll around in the magic that lifts me. My laughter rings in the sanctuary as I drift higher, up into the sky. Beyond the wall of trees, I can hardly distinguish the features of the land. Pillowy clouds lie low, and random branches from the trees sometimes peak out the tops. The horizon erupts in a splash of rose pink, mango, and turquoise. A pure, innocent beauty.
The ecstasy is abruptly interrupted. I look beneath me, and I am painfully, suddenly aware that I am floating, high above the ground beneath me. The spell is broken. My body drops, plummeting down, fast. I scrunch my eyes shut, and brace for the hit. But there is none. I cautiously open my eyes and realize I am mere inches above the ground, suspended in the current. I reach my fingers down, to kiss the earth with my fingertips. My legs and waist elegantly lower with the rest of me to the ground. I turn over onto my knees, breathing rigidly, attempting to regain my composure.
Where am I? This world, I am found in, is curious. I doubt this reality. One cannot simply escape from the world! With great doubt, I raise up my hand to cup the daffodil in my palm in front of me. It never falls into my palm. Instead, the petals begin to grain, and distort. And in a matter of seconds, it simply vanishes. In confusion, I look to the sky, and watch as the vibrant blue fades to a wan purple and cracks, like the shell of an egg.
“This can’t be real-“ I mutter to myself. The long branches of the willows evaporate their leaves, and like skeletons and bones, dry up as if submerged in acid. I stand up, and spin, desperately looking for a part of this world. Something, still alive, something animate. I twist and turn in desperation, the world around me smearing into nothing.
My breathing is rapid, and uneven. I lift my face from my pillow. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my hair sticks to my neck. I look down, still in pajamas. Lying in my bed.
I am baffled. Was this a nightmare? No. Not quite. But, was it? I scoff at my ridiculousness. Of course it wasn’t real. What am I thinking? I sigh, and lie my head back down to my pillow, and turn my head to the window. ‘Sleep again, it wasn’t real’, I tell myself. But, just as I start to shut my eyes, something catches my eye. Despite the impenetrable darkness that lurks in my bedroom, I spot something soft and yellow. Set atop my rug, lies the same delicate, yellow daffodil, waiting for me to cup it gently in my palm.