Soaking in ..old family photos
while submerged in Georgia rains,
I become lost in the darkest depths
of their black and white remains.
I am vicariously transported
to one hundred memories past,
Silent voices call me to follow
through my families complex caste.
One a Dutch indentured servant
who became of man of local wealth,
Another a circuit ridin' preacher
Spread the gospel, paid with pelts.
Then dark eyed lady wishing
to share privately with me,
Our painful bond of child birth and death
"Time, never sets one free."
Soaking in old family photos
Submerged in joy and pain
Taken to the darkest depths
of pouring Georgia rains.
it's 4 a.m. and i didn't study
those latin conjugations
no, i studied
the last few weeks.
i don't care if i've fucked a thousand men;
i don't care if i've fucked one.
none of you have the right to
make me seem like i'm unclean.
because if i remember correctly
it takes two bodies,
two sets of limbs moving in the dark unseen,
and two resolves to explore
the sensations of their sex.
and i'm expected to sit here quiet and placid
while you throw my sexuality in my face
and make this an unwelcome place
for whores like me.
i'm a person; a human being
and stop playing nice,
stop playing dumb.
i'm not going to pity fuck you
because you were kind to me
a time or two
you pathetic piece of shit.
you came at the wrong time,
when i was already seething so silently,
and you asked again and again
like a kid asking his mom for a new toy in the store.
it's hardly even you i'm mad at:
it's this systemic poison in the great pool of people,
and there are plenty of fish in the sea
but how many are free from this toxicity?
i thought sex was an exploration, a harmless invitation
to enjoy what felt so organic and good
but you're the ones who've made it dirty,
who've made me feel like a slut.
who've made it your personal business to erase me,
and displace me
because i liked the touch, taste, feel.
this is unreal to me; and i'm sick in my heart.
because everyone wants to try and isolate
this one part of me
and simplify who i am into
the whims of my skin.
no. the answer is no.
so fuck you.
I am caught between two sets of chains;
One digs into my flesh with patches of rust
Entering my bloodstream through old wounds
I gave myself in years before…
The toxins take action ever so slowly.
Another is of satin,
Gently caressing my knuckles
Making me happier—
Than I’ve ever been in my whole life,
But there’s pressure on my clavicles
As the pull becomes stronger.
I have cried over you
All the while I’ve been saying:
‘I love you’
For I know that I feel more deeply
Than you could ever feel
I see farther forward
Then you’ve ever dared to look,
And I’m trapped here with my
Adoration for you,
And I already miss you.
sleep is a date with death.
it's a time when your body is present but your conscious is not.
but are you really alive without a conscious?
in sleep your consciousness goes on a journey
taking Death by the hand
and accompanying him to the most majestic of ballrooms
and into the eyes of terrifying storms,
to the highest of mountains
and the deepest of the oceans' chasms,
to the most distant of memories
and the depths of what you had forgotten,
to your most prideful of accomplishments
and the greatest of all of your fears,
to the brightest of hopes and aspirations
and the most vacant corners of darkness.
he shows you what this world has to offer
anything and everything
each journey to be an experience your body may not have the chance to live.
yet every time you arouse from sleep
you awaken with nothing but haze
blurred images being all that your body can comprehend
in comparison to what journeys your mind can traverse.
as you age, your body becomes rickety and wrinkled
barely able to hold back such a bursting mind.
this is the time when your mind does not want to confine itself to a body any longer
it wants to experience more than what this world has to offer,
for in the hours awake within the body
combined with every date with Death
every memory had been made
every child had been born
every tear has been shed
every moment as a human, in body and mind, had been experienced.
your mind is not weak nor weary, rather, it thrives
within a clear container
and all that Death has yet to show you visible in the distance.
once your body can hold you back no longer, it sets your mind free.
that is when Death greets you
just as a peaceful lover would come dawn
and just as affectionately
he would accompany your mind
to everything else there is beyond
my pulse, your pulse?
the sun sets at 4'oclock central time
it's not right, it's not wrong
not a familiar pulse
I love everyone and everything
but I can't fall in love with anyone or anything
Every second is a century, every century a second
I care too much and so little
Sometimes I cry because I can and many times I don't cry but I want to
and when I turn off the lights and sit in silence.
I AM IN A CONSTANT STATE OF OVERSTILMULATION
so I turn on the lights and scream
I AM IN A CONSTANT STATE OF OVERSTILMULATION
turn the lights back off
I want it all
Bluebell Lucy danced in fantastic flames, taught by shamanic figures
when the winter nights grew tiresome
and lonely boys ran passionately in village streets
She stood on ancient structures and sang her song with uttermost vigor
even after mild paranoia sets in, she stands statuesque
breathing harmonic, listening intently to the cloud's chatter
Her cobalt lashes flickered adroitly when she scanned the sky atop her locks
and let the coming rains wash through that azure mane
until the kiss of eternal gratitude arrived from a stray bird
On cobble stone paving, her heels were worn and dampened, she nimbly strides
how beautiful it is to see a spirit so free
and the obstinate world yields to her alone
Loosely, Lucy with a cerulean aura, gathers the injured and feral in alabaster arms
she is yagé and the world hallucinates because of her
a subtle enlightenment she gives to onlookers and thieves
Camu Camu sprouting from the wells she digs with bare hands in midnight moonlight
her compatriots, the beasts of lost tribes, look onwards
and she wails a verse on hemerocallis singular sensation
The flower that she is, a wild one that grows sporadically to enhance the beauty of existence
and everybody incomprehensible in thoughts when she speaks
because she is love when love had died so many suns ago
Breaking water, diving in with my body, head first.
Rippling seams and leaving stitches unfinished. I dive in to let the purity envelop me. Cleanse me and my pores,
return me to where I started from.
Release me from wars, unopened doors I wished I turned. Forget wounds of battle on my skin.
Open me.cut me open and leave me bleeding. Let my blood sink into the earth until there is nothing left, let me walk this earth for miles and miles, let me feel the pain in my lungs and the hoarseness of my being escaping from my throat. Let me build a moat around my princess castle and then tear it down. Lightning strike me and rip my particles, rip the matter from me like guns on glass. Crack me and tear me. I will get up again.
I will rise.
And Let me sing,
sing until my prayers are whispers.
Forest water, reflecting green, serenity.
I have dreams of black claws like raven glass closing in, scratching me bare. Howling and deep long nails and witchy eyes cackling like the darkness overlapping. The demons within closing in. I hide from the light, unaware of how I’m blocking out love from my life. Is it just a dream what my heart has seen. Now I walk like wind or stones in snow. I trudge along trying to remain strong when the forces pull and tear the ramshackle down to the ground.
I’ve been breathing and living, these stones suspended, seeing so many things and this compilation of stories warms my belly and tears my flesh.The happiness is what breaks me. Suspending the never-ending. I am so close to the grave that I dug for myself but I must keep walking past that linear line that I set for myself. It is lines within circles. So many flows, I thought I chose the whole. Breathe. Pouring myself out into you. I wonder if I give and give it will fade into the soil and the bottle will empty. Melt like water. Feed you and leave me. Is it releasing or is it unhealthy for me to give myself away.
I gave myself away.
I have strewn pieces of myself into everything I have touched but I am afraid that one day there will be nothing left. Nothing left when finally I receive pieces of someone else. . Excuse me, it is not like me to be so dramatic and I am afraid to write things like this because it feels so cheesy except the process of seeking deeper is breaking that boundary and that un-comfortableness. Where did our love go? It existed between the skin and the bones. It was a facade or something else. I am not very sure. Not lust but colour, it was dewy green like steam from a coffee cup in the morning. Or the rain on the window pane while I slept in your arms and refrained from needing you too much, I cannot write about you without tears, write about your skin or your smile, and I am in a confined environment as I write this where such things are not very acceptable. I am hiding on the screen, escaping my heart. I cried this morning because it was all too perfect.
I am cut open I suppose. Like that song “And it was your heart on the line / I really fucked it up this time / Didn't I, my dear?” Mumford and Sons even feels too perfectly imperfect that I laugh at myself and this funny hole I am in. I don’t like the swear word though, sometimes I laugh because it works. The “f” word in that song it just kind of fits. It is like the pathetic-ness and the hilarity, when we slip in mud and are covered in filth when we have nothing left but to cry and to laugh because we are crying because nothing in this world really matters or it matters all too much. Because I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t think anybody does. We just muster our determination and passion and roll with it but still there is an element of unpredictability no matter how routine we have gotten. No matter how far we have fallen from our roots. Excuse me for crying this morning, don’t worry I laughed it off after. I laughed because of life and laughed because I cried, and I cried because I love you.
And now I walk like wind or stones in snow. I trudge on with all my strength. Wisping like whispers caught from the ears of children and passing through the world. Cold like ice on swing sets and little hands clasping them. Red fingers and red noses. Snot on mittens and sharp pain. Winter.
I Wisp like wind in water. I crack like stones of sand and rock. I break like waves on the shores of life. I cry like the trees at night. Howling to the moon. I open when you call me. I close when I’m falling. I hide like children at night. I am under the streetlight, orange, alley cats in shadow homes and grey cement, dead rats, broken bones. My eyes are bare, sunken in the light. I suppose I should muster my might. Find peace beyond my fight. Escape distress. I wish you saw something more. I wish that there was something else. Speeding on.
You are not god, you are not my Lord;
You are a beast that corrupts my soul;
I find peace not, when I pray in thee;
You have tainted my soul--you have hurt me.
You are a fiend, just like all my friends;
You are tied to an awkward time and space.
And is your soul as sharp as your false prayers?
I can find words that shall hear me better.
You are no safety, nor any assurance;
I hate your speech--within your cold Bible;
You are not worthy of love, nor any true spirit;
You are a mere space no sane souls can ever meet.
I used to know, in Heaven, another Lord;
But my faith was marred, it was distorted.
This Lord of mine was kind and simple;
His heart was all-resilient and humble.
My Lord was gone in one sway of smoke;
As none wanted to hear more from me.
I was strong in faith--and t'is was no joke;
But none would look, and pushed Him fast away.
Ah, my Lord, in whom I used to hear salvation;
And not grief like this which burns my heart.
I found within me--a great deal of admiration;
But none would believe, and He was made gone.
I knew another, in more mature years;
But He was as crude as a grizzly bear.
With His soulless heart, he tore my faith up;
'Till my heart withered, and nothing remained.
He preached but the beauty of wealth;
And to forge maturity on this dire soil;
He turned one another an enemy;
He played with fate, as if ‘twas His doll.
I was in deep grief, I was in bare crises;
I believed not the sun sets and the moon rises.
Ah, Lord, and after I lost thee even more;
I roamed sightlessly like none before.
And now I’th been forced back to thee;
Art thou still hungry, or art thou satisfied?
Haven’t thou sent me enough agony;
When shall thou finally give up?
Now I hath been cramped back to thee;
Art thou still angry--doth thou want to kill me?
Thou explaineth never--why I taketh my breath;
Thou reasoneth never--what is in life after death.
For I believe triumphs are not for those who sin;
For I believe prayers are not done by the mean.
For I believe in life there is no such scarcity;
For I believe we are united by wordless destiny.
For I believe He is One; and is loved freely;
For I believe He loves back, with relentless mercy;
For I believe He is the One, and owneth no partner;
For I believe He is who rules, and not another.
For I believe none was made crucified;
For I believe He is alive, and shall never die;
For I believe such stories are all but a lie;
For He is who gives, and breathes sight to the eye.
For I believe the cross is no glory;
For I believe such is a vain myth;
For I believe He is absolute;
For I believe He is the only Truth.
And about this I can lie no more;
Nor stand back as I did before.
He is who holds my mortal hands;
He who cares better than my friends.
Still I am lost, I am lost in thee;
For thou hath betrayed my most questions.
For thou hath no words--nor poetry in me;
For thou ignore--and neglect me in disambiguation.
And I hate thee, I hate thee too much;
Thou hath blinded me and led me astray.
Thou giveth room but to desire and lust;
Thou lead my soul to ultimate decay.
Thou regard not shyness and virginity;
Thou accept not humble words and pure sympathy.
Thou encourage day and night ecstasy;
Thou disfigure us by mock forgiveness.
Thou told us to be unjust and sin;
Thou told us to pursue and be mean;
Thou loveth pleasure, and left me unsure;
Thou gave me disease, but showed me no cure.
Now I’th realised that my God is Him;
He who attends my day and night dreams.
I care not what thy devils may say;
I shall care for Him only--all through the night and day.
For the Lord who leads and forgives;
For the Lord who dies not and shall live;
For the Lord whose Throne is up high;
Veiled perfectly by the blue midnight sky.
For the Lord who creates life and death;
For the Lord who gives mouths and breath.
For the Lord who is One and only;
For the Lord who is sole and fair.
Then I can pray with my whole sane heart;
And rest my minds from this lifelong war;
My Lord is One who lets my blood flow;
Years back, presently, the day after tomorrow.
And by Him I shall remain prudent;
Though He is far and farther and invisible.
I shall long for His Paradise and Heaven;
One for the kind hearts; for the devoted and humble.
Then I shall craft even more poetry;
A poem for my Lord’s tremendous delights;
I shall make it warm and lively;
And tell tales of future years in Paradise.
And I shall turn back to Your prayers, God;
After years and years of fraying Thee alone.
Now I shall come back to my untainted faith;
Please hesitate not, nor make me need to wait.
For in You only doth I find my doors;
And answers to my once lonely heart;
I cannot lie back, I cannot lie no more;
That I and Thee can never stay apart.
And my faith will be like those stern winds;
They can be felt, while remain unseen;
Wish me a welcome, and not a farewell;
Keep me safe from Thy spells of hell.
And let me remain in my bows;
As I shout my praise, as my head goes low.
And breathe more life into my virgin hands;
Make me the noblest on my lands.
And let me remain where I am;
As stars sparkles, and lower the maroon sun;
Where I but mention Thy Holy Name;
And cite Thy praise, as daylight is gone.
We'd been walking for an age,
Stone by passing stone
We passed ever onward,
Towards our end
Here will do, came the call,
It brimmed with confidence
But it came from, God knows who.
The shadows shift to greet the day,
The shovels drift through seas of waste.
We've struggled here, me and you.
Now fight the earth, and raise this tomb.
But who is speaking?
Where from do they call?
Why was I beckoned here?
Am I really here at all?
Its all so facile!
A predictable jaunt!
It was all called from day one,
Now there's just the motions to evoke.
The dirt brushed steel finds the reaches of the deep
You'd seek to sleep, had you earned your rest
Yet among cartoon images and plastic sets
I think you'll find, you were at your best
To the dark, to the dark,
You stride with beaming smile into the reach
As if to deprive, yet no one would ever seek
Why scrawl in a corner, what do you hope to yield?
Listen now boy, the dirt is all there is
Bow your head and conceal your task
We'll hit rock bottom and you'll sleep at last.
though they are whispering,
and my hearing muted by the years
and the cluttered clang of today,
their voices sift softly through the trees,
a ghost chorus, chanting
late songs from the killing grounds,
wafting warily around the trunks
on the backs of bent breezes
their names come like seeds
in the hopeful spring rains
as if they yearn to be born again
but the earth does not bring forth
their lost and longing faces
new names take their places
not in the choking jungle canopies
among the rubber trees, the bamboo,
the Mekong’s murky, mournful flow
where I last heard their plaintive pleas
drowned by the roar of chopper blades,
and my own metal screaming
but now in the desert, under
the Tigris’ and Euphrates’
still, I hear them, a labored litany
through the trees
yet asking to return
to sit with me, as the sun sets
white, on my gray eyes
and new voices silence
their wraithlike song