The marbles in my eyes
Coloured glass that I despise.
Yet, from these I look out to this world
The marbles in my eyes unfurled.
Blue they had to be
Blue is what I see
No reds
No greens
No country scenes
No flower beds
Blue and heads I lose.
I didn't choose this
want to lose this
But I can't refuse the look that's looking back
In the mirror all is black
And I fear.
The reflection ever near
The gaze that's here and now
But anyhow or way I look
The hook that catches
Snatches me and holds me tight
Is the colour of the sky but not at night
It's blue.
And true to form
The storm inside
Wants to pluck out both my eyes.
I resist
Insist upon a trial
Dial a friend
Will this nightmare ever end?
It never will
This is the bill of lading
The wading through the swamp
A romping in the mud
Nothing good will come
Except the blue and that's no fun.
The alleyway will stay
Will remain to mark each passing
And every day
It will be blue
It seems there's nothing I can do
But die or dye
Another colour in the sky
It will be blue don't ask me why
I do not know.
Between the sleeping of Monday
And the waking of Tuesday
I am again exiled from my room to the sounds of
Some foreign romping I’ve yet
To experience
I remain firm in Catholicism more from a fear motherhood
Not a belief shared by many
No,
Had it been my religion
We would have married at sixteen when “I love you” smoldered
And there was no fright of the future
We drink our red wines with the windows wide
The curtains pulled
Blowing in an arctic breeze
And confess our deepest fears
That I can’t write
That you can’t afford
That in the end, we’ll always be struggling
Each drink deepening the worry in my soul yet
Reminding you that you are
In fact
A superior race of intelligence
Red wine confidence is all you need
To assure me we’ll be fine
But I’m still writing “please God”s in the corners of my journal
Between the coffee stains and the nightmare confessions
Pulled from my lips when I finally doze
Their bodies are still connected at the mouth on the bottom bunk
The gentle movement assurance that one day
I might be
Horrified enough
To stand up from my mental floor and scream
I AM NOT A DOORMAT
In their pale faces
Then
Maybe their love will stop
Then
Maybe these fears will end
Then....
maybe I will sleep
flesh smirks cautiously
silent beehives squelching elk
leaps glumly, mules snarl
bluebird builds, rigid
foundlings disappear lamely
incarnations peck
raw conjurers acts
devious shady agile
rosemary boasts, stare
starflower hovers
depression gives birth snidely
harps romping mustang
When we play...---...
Is it for our better'... or
for the better equipping's
of hearts, and minds freeing
to bare our souls within
as this body of life
life has given
living still
scribbles
of scripts
positioning
composition's
bets mete bettering
to better ourselves unto
this weather of givings
whether we see it 'tis
take's or receiving's
without the grace
of a child's it is
all too much
deceiving
one's
greener
leafing's fall
blowning off 'tis
grieving's leaving
going going
glowing
gone
Gong GONG GONGING GONG GONG!!!!
a
sad
noise 'tis
@ competition
shush'... listening
did you hear that if
you don't better me
i may better you
if you don't
win, i win
dominion
of you
too,
am
I?
Y
my
eye'...
the pain of bye's
in natures foreboding
I
by
eye
cops
comp
cop cop
for bronze
comping copper
stamping stomping
ramp's romping
inclination's
phrasing's
of phases
chosen's
ration's
poses
to
e
y
e
be
war's
worshiped
rule breaking
nature's fool
forsaken
lost
'---
my
Y
do odes of '--- my'...??? of the sullen
gloomy calls within the spade of tears
in paralyzing fears or of the faceless
ruse of starkness descending upon
a dimming simmering flame
shining yet or singing
'if I had a hammer'
one hammer pounds
one above, another below
another softens the soundings
of where the cooper's barrel is at
of making a rest for dearest guests
one basket withers glittering gone sold
another is casket's for the cooling
with taken souls captured
enslaved to undo ruins
whether by a taking
this being to grave
or in misgivings
crook simply
sins fouled
"fooled" or
schooled
a fool
feels
all,
m
I
?
Y
is it
however
that dogs are
revered and best
friends
too
be
.
Y
so
then,
what is
humanity
for food controlled
leashed, collared gate
for a lease of our
soul tethering
weakening
pained ill
limping
gait
'--- ode
to the meek
the taken
of taker's
speaking's
mistakenly
tokened
tolls.
What are
being's selling's
paths by soles paving's
for hunger's relinquishing's
as footprints trodden the
starving are solemn's
no food for souls
with out love
the broken
...---...
pitch me a sales
as i already do wail
a 'poor granted soul
in soils poor planting
or then ...---... please!!!
leave and so take
your willing
chilling
chills
sown
as ...---...
to the forsaken
who depend on that pill
for the pain and the fright
which steals our dear breath
takes wings, life and flight
death walks as much
as the grim reaper
still is brewing
opiates for
balkers
asleep
walk
bye
as
I
---
you
'--- my
gr8 greeter
called life as the living
living in memories of darkness
to the soul calling light
sleeping by day
only by night
'tis flight
...---.... 'o
deceive me deception
i made you mad
really made
therefor
eyes
shuttered
fractal spawn
i can not beat thy
blinded own childs
if eye can not control
the only owners of me
sold for the glittering scold
you would be my excuses
as a mother defends
what a man can
not achieve he
must create
pretending
it's all in
the brewing
stillery stewing
so let us all play
the game as it is
of spiritual potions
where meek meets might
in the awesome of loathings
dark-lings of fear breathing omens
while dragon's breathe fire in deep keepers
Still Our Colosseum is so Romanesque
so forgive my doting while stilling
the stiller's still and so no, no
I am not that player of so,
called so of the gaming
darlings ac-cursing of
flashings thrashing
trashing of our
lives truly
dearest
here
eye
be
to
...---...
my friends clear and
Sow the never-ending story of
Our lives more worthy nurtured of loving as
Silly Will Nilly fairy dragons fired in the natures of love with
air to wax and oils fired breathing anew guidance for misgivings of
lost roaming tillers, till within it is found the pounding of lost vile's
Pouring out transmutations of the flowering scents of forgiving
Pearly rivers torrentially rush the heavenly sendings of
Soothing balm to wounds in mending and cries of
: SOS unattended finally heard as
<3 <3's ...---... <3 <3's
in the living river
of life walked
and spoken
words
are
LOVE IN ACTION!!!!!!
DING DING DING
GONG!!!!!!!!!
<3 <3
:)
Begin again!!!
Lovingly, Ra
Sa Sa Sun
Sunny
Run
Un
1
'
.
.
.
PS: ... --- ..., = SOS such is key to the rest if you would consider most other punctuation's here typical though minimally used.
The way I wrote would be as 'help' and or 'save our souls' and 'save our selves' is worth a gander; http://acronyms.thefreedictionary.com/SOS
So about read again if you read once ignoring the ...'s and or ---'s that is overly well then is why I suggest just on the one hand as far as the read is concerned anyhow the rest you know already much about take the ...'s as s's and ---'s as o's got it go go go!!! The ...---...'s are best for your hearts choosing really of course always as with all!!! >3 >3 :) :) R
PPS: Stanza from "eye am I to ... --- ... (help) my friends dear has 3 consecutive lines respectively starting with S, O, and S leading also a second set with P P S : SOS unattended finally heard as hearts help hearts ding dong gong!!!!
PPPS: take PPS: as post post script in reading down in typical fashion or as across the lines loosely cryptic as post postmortem script, or un-dead finally!!!
PPPPS: “"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?” - Alice in Wonderland quote
http://thinkexist.com/quotes/alice_in_wonderland/
******written from the left margin indeed it too would be easier to follow some of the encrypted or encoded keys; but understanding that it still can be had as in final edit it is shifted right and overall the read and shape at least on a screen with enough pixels to me seemed over all having more potency for the more willing understood albeit!! Thank You!!! Ra
What a hungry soul can do running on two grapefruits and a cup of black coffee for the day!!!!
Nite Nite!!!
<3 <3 :) R
I am a pup in the springtime,
newborn and
overflowing with joy.
I romp in the grasses,
roll in the dirt,
delight in the other babes
that
pop
their apprehensive heads above the ground.
planet Earth itself has
missed this time,
has yearned for the
white-hot love of the Sun
kissing its rocky skin.
it moves itself closer
to its age-old lover
and so summer begins
as a romance.
the heady,
sweaty,
hot and
sticky
love of summertime
pervades the air,
the fresh-hot smells of
reds,
pinks,
purples,
and blues
flies and
flits among us,
dancing on the breezes and
loitering in my nostrils.
I am a strong, fit dog,
in the summertime,
made for running
made for hunting
made for climbing and
like the Earth
made for loving.
the planet explodes in an
orgy of life,
as the creatures marring
the Earth's stony face
rub and run
into each other.
it is a maddening display which
browns my flesh and
wrinkles my face,
burns holes into my skin and
scratches the superficiality
of myself.
the leaves,
encouraged by the heated lovemake,
begin their downward dance,
leaping from the tree branches and
twirling with romance,
colliding in the air and then beginning to
drift
apart--
it becomes apparent to me that
my warm weather skin
must be shed.
it is old and
quite worn down,
littered with burn marks and
the desperate clawings of a
bitter, old cat.
as fall arrives,
that is all I can be;
a bitter,
old cat.
for I had scratched at myself
through my lovedrunken stupor,
had tried to cease the onslaught
of the Sun's romance.
for the Sun had tired
of that old, rough Earth,
and so it
drifted
off.
the planet was filled with
a dancing ennui,
leaves twirling in the crisp,
autumn air.
there was no rolling
no romping
in these leaves;
no,
we let them bury us
up to the eyeballs
as we picked and scratched
off our scabby, old skin.
breathing out,
my breath begins its own
sad,
little dance,
twirls as a white-cold wraith.
it suspends in the air
for just a moment,
spins in a most beautiful way
and then it
disappears
into the atmosphere.
I feel the chill approach,
the stark whiteness of winter
settling into my bones.
has my skin been fully removed,
has my matted clumps of fur and my
dry-bloody nails finally
fallen off?
there is no one left to ask,
mouths buried among
nude,
brown leaves,
minds lost among
the cold abandonment
of the Earth.
perhaps
with the first snow
I shall renew;
I shall gain a fresh,
icy skin,
settled above the crisp,
brown leaves in a
fine,
white layer.
I shall rise from below
these levels of living,
first being pale and
weak in form.
the winter will
eventually subside and
I shall green,
shall grow and grow and
reach out to my
newfound Sun,
shall kiss it with my leaves and
hold it in my branches.
shall he,
that newborn king,
kiss me with his warmth,
shower me with sunshine
and rays and
newfound
newborn
life?
as for now
the snow thickly settles,
surrounds me in layers and
levels of
chilly isolation;
winter is still upon us.
The fog began to roll in,
twirling and twisting into the darkly shaded night.
The air smelled of young adulthood and
the lovehot and wild bucks and does
rolling and romping around in their
thick clouds of pheromones.
We ventured into this haze,
arms locked together and
hands intertwined.
Your warmth radiated off and
filled me with heat and
tingle-loveliness and sweet,
sweet music.
It scared me,
these new and bizarre things
that I had never felt, before.
I felt myself begin to swell up,
a bright red balloon in the dark, black night,
filled with the lighter-than-air molecules
of my newfound feelings.
Please, body,
don't you float away.
We walked in tandem--
already did we walk as one being,
one body.
It was 4 AM and
we were sauntering uptown,
stuck together like
the feathers on a bird
that had never before denied
its instinct to fly away.
I stared intently at your face,
trying to wish you away.
What about
my freedom,
my wild and untamed
boyish libido,
those future nights of painless,
faceless encounters to be blurred into
the fog of my young and wild buck-crazy
life?
Your thumb rubbed the back of my hand,
rubbed my mind and
rubbed my heart.
Your thumb rubbed
my very existence,
rubbed away the dirt and grime and
rubbed me to my very core.
I felt the ice of 47 different men
begin to melt away,
as the thing that I had sought to keep hidden
above all else
was being exposed.
That weak and
pulsing organ,
beating like a drum;
a tiny,
fragile,
little drum.
At any moment it could stop,
the tempo could change,
our arms would unlock and
our fingers drift apart.
At any moment this warmth could fade away,
could roll and sew itself into
the cold, harsh night
or lose itself in the
lonely company of the thick curtain of fog.
I looked up at the sky,
saw the light of stars I had never before noticed.
In that moment I realized,
The temporary is more beautiful
than the everlasting and the infinite.
In that moment I realized
that even though I was afraid of pain,
pain is natural,
it is inevitable.
Pain is like
the squeezing of my hand
inside the grip of another
or the heavy breathing on my neck
of a head resting on my shoulder.
It is a sign,
a message;
it says,
I am here,
I am alive.
In that moment I realized,
even if it has an end
at least it had a beginning.
Time does not exist;
the present is the only
real reality.
And really,
in that moment I realized
that taking a temporary risk
paid off,
as we never really forget someone
after we feel their hands,
their fingerprints,
after we have engrained their body heat
into our very body chemistry.
The fragility of it all,
the temporary glasshouse that
shielded these exchanges from
the harsh glares and gusts of
a world too large for itself,
made me want to cry;
the lightweight feelings and the
tippytoed carefulness
as we walked up the stairs and
into his house.
Three bears were asleep
and so we kept on walking,
laying ourselves down and
stringing our limbs together,
breathing our fallen-for-you and
forget-me-not breath
into the face of the other--
a young and inflated mirror image;
a doppelganger infatuation.
I turn my head above
and look around your room,
trying to fin the stars that
you have hidden away.
Your walls are covered in the
places you want to see,
your dreams filling up
each and every one of those
pieces of flimsy paper.
The world doesn't matter.
The roads and the streets,
the unknown and unseen locales,
they have all been mapped out by you,
seen by your heart's eye.
As we lay together,
lips interlocking and
tongues twisting together,
I present to you another place
to map out just as well.
It is a newly discovered land
full of hopes and dreams and loves and losses,
covered in pockmarks and scars and
a pale and fragile pallor.
I present it to you as a gift
and as a message,
I am here,
I am alive.
You accept it graciously,
gulp down my heart and
all of my feelings with it.
A week later and
I watch as the routes have been placed,
the forests uncovered and
the ruins and ghost towns brought
back from the haze of
historic obscurity.
With a whistle the beeper shrieks 6:45
once a day every day all today
blaring, beeping, beating
Stop! Breathe.
Steaming water hisses into the house
weighed down by romping kids
grabbing, grasping, gathering
always on the go.
I smother my day with febreeze,
and mix, stir, boil my life into simplicity
choking, gasping, breathing
Stop.
Breathe.
Go.
We will walk through the Cherry blossoms
in Japan, hand in hand, meandering through
the falling petals. Our winding path
will weave through the countryside with
no goal in sight. We will stop in front of a
particularly beautiful tree, whose branches
are just beginning to look naked.
I will look at you, brush a stray blossom
from your hair...and whisper
Aishiteru
.
.
. .
.
.
We trek the Arctic circle and witness
the absolute beauty of the Aurora Borealis.
We're be bundled tightly in our parkas,
but we are still be able to feel eachother's
warmth. We laugh as we throw snowballs.
We lie in the snow and make angels.
Well...they'll start out as angels, but in the
end, they'll just look like snow that two people
rolled around in.
We can't help it. As we embrace,
I whisper
Negligevapse
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
We stroll the beaches of Hawaii, refreshing ocean
breezes cool us. I picked you a flower,
which you now wear in your hair. Your cinnamon
brown skin offsets your beautiful white smile.
We run through the breaking waves, our feet
leaving ephemeral indentations that are as
fleeting as our cares. We fall over into
the surf and let the ocean wash over us.
I kiss your nose and tell you
Aloha wau ia oi
.
. In China, we race eachother along
. . the Great Wall to see who can get
. . to the end first. We both end up
. . dragging eachother across the
. . finish line...which happens to be
. . . a few hundred feet away.
The locals shake their
heads disaprovingly, as we stifle
a giggle. I lean in and remind you
Wo ai ni..
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . . . . .
.
In Soviet Russia, girl kiss you
and I gladly let her, for she
and I have had one too many shots
of vodka. Our faces are rosy and
we lean into eachother as our feet
make hard noises on the cobblestone
streets. Saint Basil's Cathedral
looms over us, as our lips dance
a familiar dance.
Ya tebya liubliu
.
.
. . . . .
. . .
. . .
. . . . . . .
.
We gaze at the Taj Mahal, a building
built for a man's true love. I would
build you a city. we take in the
mighty majesty of Everest. I tell
you I'd climb it for you. You tell
me to stop being silly, and say
you'd get bored waiting for me.
I give you a back rub instead.
Hum Tumhe Pyar Karte hae
We travel the dutch countryside
and kick off our wooden shoes to
. watch the tulips blooming.
. . I dedicate an entire field to you.
. . You blush.
. . we fall asleep in front of a windmill,
. . . watching the shapes of the clouds pass
. . . over us. I whisper in your ear
Ik hou van jou
.
.
.
.
.
.
. . . . . . . .
France has never been as beautiful as
it is now that you're here. We skirt
the cities and explore the countryside,
Endless fields and clear skies bring
out our inner children, and spend the day
romping and rolling until our clothes
are stained and our muscles ache. I
lay beside you, panting. In between
breaths, I manage to impart
Je t'aime
.
.
.
.
. . . . . . .
We explore Roman ruins and concoct
our own love story had we been born
in the Ancient city. I would have
been a mighty General, who saved
you from a terrible dicator. You
tell me to stop quoting Gladiator.
We share a kiss under the shadow
of the colleseum. I brush your
hair from your face...
Ti Amo
.
.
.
.
.
You smile and reply
I love you, too
old school rap,
you always tried to tell me and i couldn't listen until you were gone.
sunny open window naked romping music
moving forward from your empty body music
pale skin but not as pale as yours
was.
when i met this new
person
, he said
it's time for new songs
something to mark this page with
but i just keep rereading your obituary
I grew from this earth,
green as a sprout,
to grow and grow and
touch the sky with
my puny shoulders.
I do as the Sun above
commands of me,
to keep stretching and
bending my spine,
arching my back to
its plans for
my overarching canopy.
They wish for me to
lie beneath them,
absorb their every
ray and word,
to believe fully and totally
in only them.
However,
these Suns do not shine
quite bright enough
and my nourishment
supplements itself.
I help myself to grow,
to bear the responsibility above
that I can never handle;
far too much to handle.
They don't know that
I am so tired,
so sick and weak
deep, deep, deep
down in my roots.
I haven't slept
in years,
years and years of
open eyed nights,
empty thoughts and
alternative music
to fuel and feed my
roots and trunk.
This could never suffice,
as only the Sun may
lift up the heavens,
may hold the sky aloft and
force the clouds to dance,
sending glittery raindrops
down towards me,
sweat running wet from
the pores of the wild
storm fronts.
I am too weak to handle
their high heeled kicking,
heavy foot stomping,
black cloud romping around;
I'm too far down,
down, down on the ground,
covered by dirt and
having only grown
a quarterway up.
It won't work,
honestly;
I can't be who you
wanted.
After all,
such small shoulders
could never hold
such large sky.
