By paper-lantern light
flames colour a snow crystals dance, beautifully enchanting, to
the distant sound of singing; Joyous songs of celebration, lulling all in revelry. Each note heard
in silent reverence, beneath the skeletal canopy of majestic oak spread. Where from amongst the
damp branches,wise old saucer eyes calls "Ubi? Ubi?", heralding a cacophony of wide-eyed
whispers. This afternoon, sweet twilight guides our paths as we search on ever onward journeys
unknown; Our arms collecting firewood, to fill the empty hearths of others. Unaware of the cold
hands, we are, when there's such warmth in our hearts. We toil within the stillness,
snow falling softly,and covering the crisp ground. From deep beneath
the dazzling pure white, tiny hibernating animists
blink wide from the warmth of hidden
woodland beds. Gently,
sweep the 12 droplets
of ice from all our eyes, Sol,
as we cough darkness
from our lungs,
watching the sparkles of no
in the paper-
to scatter across
this Solstice sky,
illuminating our fates,
as cold snowflake hearts
twinkle like falling stars, unseen,
turning, embracing the return of the Light
no snow in the UK yet, but hoping for a hoare frost on the Solstice :)
Peace & Love this Yuletide
and to all,
I've never actually been alone because you see I've made an rsvp to a cliff built on memories.
My words create roots slightly raised from the ground so when I'm running this fast from the voices in my head I trip in fall over every life altering mental speed bump.
Regret is spilling out of my ripped pockets with every step up this self induced painful mountain of secrecy I'm climbing.
I have thoughts that could make your skin crawl to me in a helpless abandon and tired eyes that could break eye contact into a million tiny pieces.
These valleys whisper the same words from the same mouths but until it comes from yours my ears will not hear it.
Even my thoughts have a day and a night and with fists clinched so tight white knuckles could form flesh covered maps to my heart.
Now my voice sounds of slamming doors and fists smashing through walls revealing skeletal fingers reaching through every dent only to realize every hand is my own.
But my heart is just a little girl who thinks believing is the same as tiptoeing through the darkness.
"It's not personal" i say quietly "i'm just turning off the lights before go" and every star falls. I know every hand I hold is a new prison and I've become an escape artist while Internally screaming at my blood because it's keeping me alive.
Lastly, listen closely, if I listed every natural disaster by name would you still know I'm talking about myself?
Walking hypnotized with the Angler
Our main character ends up in this weighted darkness, with an immense feeling
Not just on his shoulders, but embodying him as a whole
Slowly fixating his eyes once again on the light that sway before him
grabbing at words, clutching for breath
You are at your final destination
the Angler confidently utters
A broken smirk from ear to ear
He smashes the lantern, illuminating the area for a short time, exposing his true form
Serpent in skin, draped in robe, skeletal from his head to his torso
Decrepit, deteriorating from head to body
Consuming all who consume themselves
Partially paralyzed by the omitting light, our excessive counterpart jumps to the side
Into the abyss where he has been lured, dodging the site of the Angler
Now only dark resides, you act as if you can escape into...what you have come for
It is the darkness that consumes you, not I
Where are you, young mind
Frightened, our counterpart has come to grips
"Although you have heightened senses, you cannot fish without your lure!"
the Angler glances toward the direction of his voice, casting his arm violently into the dark
Having taken refuge in the dark, he realizes this is his temporary home
He makes sure to stay clear of what sounds like bones cracking and bodies dragging
As the Angler moves about
Now fully aware, he gathers himself. Steadies his breath and controls his thought.
Remembering this is his sanctuary
Although he has been lured to a part where he does not wish to remember
...he understands it is indeed his own.
And so he dares to speak again
What sounds like bones grinding on pavement closes in
"You are very clever"
He begins to walk in an erratic pattern, his voice cannot be follow as easily
"I had you out as a saint, a savior. I see now that you are nothing but a leech, a nuisance!"
"But remember again, oh powerful Angler. You are only as powerful as your light!"
the Angler's hand screams past his face
He stumbles backward
Do not belittle ME, YOUNG MAN
I have lived 10 life times
MY light will regenerate soon
And you will be dead
to be continued
Character: Excessive man
Ability: Travel into his own mind
Looking at the sky
A Man struggling with reflection
His First Thought:
"As skies turn clear, my conscious seems to as well, for only a minute or two. But my creativity is halted; why am I so consumed?"
"These skies are too clear..does the dark reside within me? Have I taken away the menacing and created the light? Does light and dark exist at all?"
He returns into his mind
Immediately sees a light and what looks like a skeletal arm holding a large, old lantern.
"My, isn't that an enticing light"
"You...the light bearer"
"You can show me the way!"
"You can lead me down the path of selflessness again!"
"I have lost my way, are you here to guide me?"
The light creeps slowly away, swaying side to side
"Where are you going..."
"Show me! I beg of you!"
A shed of light pierces the darkness, skeletal in skin..draped in robe is the Angler
I am no light bearer alone, I am that of an Angler
"I have never heard of you...why will you not help?"
"This is my world, I decide who comes and goes."
"Why..rather, how...are you here?"
Consumption, are you not consumed?
With a menacing smirk
Attracted to the blaring light, he mutters
"Yes, yes I shall follow"
Blank minded, open mouthed
My purpose here is that of good or that of evil, in which you have the ability to decide
Follow me into the abyss of yourself, find the answer you need
It begins to lure, the blinding light creeps again toward what seems to be nothing
He snaps out of it
"YOU! you are no fisherman! You are no helping hand! FOUL..you are FOUL"
His subconscious understands the cold nature of the beast
Entranced in light he continues to stumble toward the lantern, yelling
"What are you, WHY ARE YOU HERE!"
I am YOU, how dare you question a force that drives YOU
Its voice booms inside the young mind
I am here for a purpose
"You are not me, I am flesh and bone...I have been born."
"You have been manifested, I cannot comprehend you."
It rapidly brings the light a few inches from his eyes
I can show you, but you must decide
Hypnotized, he chooses
Walks mindlessly forward
to be continued
Desolation occupies the streets,
dusty debris greets me
as I kick past a pile of rubble
where my neighbor used to live.
The mailboxes of the mostly abandoned bungalows are overflowing
with FEMA fliers, and contractor business cards.
Hammer wielding men make their way through the ruination.
Trying to feed their families
on the gutted remains of disaster.
Greedily grabbing the copius charity funds,
they diligently restore houses
that will more than likely never be occupied,
They carry with them an air of determination and optimism
that covers over the film of despair that coats everything.
But, determination alone
cannot transform a shell of a house
back into a home.
In the mammoth mansions on the corner
there are signs of restored life.
The rich can afford to ignore devastation,
and rebuild, as if their neighbors haven't all fled.
Aside from an occasional pounding hammer
The streets are silent,
save for the moaning of the wind.
The burned house still stands,
a stoic reminder
that the source of pain may change,
but, beneath the smiles, it always remains.
I cross the bridge,
stopping for a second to stare
at the thin layer of ice that has formed
on the surface of the scummy stream.
A moment later I arrive at the guardrail,
and I marvel at the lack of condom wrappers,
and cigarette cellophane on the floor.
I crest the berm,
now a skeletal remnant of its former stalwart self.
The gray black rocks are exposed beneath the sand,
like the bones of a corpse,
with the skin and meat washed away.
The beach is absolutely deserted,
The wind itself refuses to walk along the shore.
It comes rushing from the landside,
and stops at the sea wall, as if to say,
there is nothing left for me to play with here.
Even the birds have abandoned the beach,
There are no tracks on the sand,
Aside from a set of dog's paws,
paired with the sneaker tracks of the dog's owner.
The sea is calm,
with baby breakers lazily lapping at the waterline.
The sky is a motley mix of frothy white, and pale blue.
Both vibrant and dull,
like the eyes of a Nazi.
The winter sun is hibernating behind the cloud cover,
shedding dull light, that chills the spirit,
steals my smile, and transmogrifies it into a sigh.
I am surprised at how clean the beach is.
Pebbles and boulders are strewn all about,
but, aside from a few pieces of pale plastic
there is nearly no trash to be seen,
and I snicker internally,
for I know where the trash has gone.
Having spotted some of it in the street
on my way to the beach.
Several of the naked trees on the hillside have tilted over,
revealing ruddy reddish roots.
I come to the tilted flag pole,
with it's once buried base
A circular concrete mass,
that I never would have expected existed.
A shredded blue strip of cloth
is all that remains of the state flag of New York,
and it thrashes violently in the wind.
Down at the far end of the beach
the hunk of blacktop jutting from the sand is still visible,
but, today there is no torso laden box beside it.
There is something comforting in its presence.
Something comforting, yet deeply saddening.
I step past the flagpole, and I am instantly assaulted by the wind.
The chill air caresses me cruelly.
Biting my ears, and slapping my cheeks.
There is still standing water at the edge of the road,
and I walk down Kissam in a shivering stupor.
The quaint house where the hens once pecked and warbled
is now just an empty lot,
with the remains of the foundation as the only proof
that people once lived here.
I am shocked to see
that nearly every house at this end of the block is gone.
A lonely inground pool looks severely out of place
without the house that once stood next to it.
A green triceratops statue sitting poolside
smiles at me as I pass,
I can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
In the middle of the block two men operate jackhammers
while another hoists hunks of the street
from a hole with a backhoe.
I can't imagine what they are doing here,
I slip past them without making eye contact.
On the other side of the vehicle
I see that most of the houses at the top of the block are still standing.
Boarded up bungalows, every one unoccupied.
A standup piano with its guts exposed
sits in front of the last house on the left.
A once treasured possession,
destroyed and discarded.
I come to Mill road, and turn left.
Here, things have mostly returned to normal.
Although the Syrian orthodox church
that has slid off its foundation,
still sits askew,
and the trailers and semi's lined up along the road,
remind me that normality is a long way away.
Construction equipment is hauling
what is left of the smashed and shredded houses
that were washed from Kissam,
and deposited in the wetlands
several hundred feet away.
I wonder why they have bothered
to clean up the debris,
trampling football field sized sections of the wetlands to do so.
I pass by the VFW post,
and stop in to see what progress has been made.
The bar has been rebuilt, and the walls have been painted
a hideous shade of purple.
I leave as quickly as I came, and continue down Mill.
Past the group home on the corner.
A three wheeled police vehicle sits there,
guarding against looters.
Two cheap Chinese made American flags flap furiously
in front of the abandoned building.
No one is smoking now.
The sunflowers are long gone,
a rich brown mud is all that remains.
I pass tragedy after tragedy as I walk up the block.
Broken windows, and abandoned death sites,
of families that had lived on this block
since before my mother was born.
The people who had defined what Oakwood Beach meant to me
had all left.
Now, only a handful of families tries to live their lives in the shadow of Sandy.
I walk past the ancient willow,
in a few moments I arrive
at the building I once called home.
I stand outside,
reluctant to enter
the moldy and bare interior.
There is nothing inside that I need,
but, there is a canteen of grain alcohol that I want.
I can see it sitting on the front windowsill.
Which is where people leave the few "valuables"
that they had salvaged during the initial cleanup,
but left behind when they moved on.
I open the door, and quickly snatch the canteen,
holding my breath to avoid inhaling spores,
and with the canteen in hand, I shut the door,
and turn my back on the world of my past.
Skeletal in stature.
Starved of dignity.
Dressed in hanging skin.
Crippled by cruelty.
Terrified desperate fingers clutch the wire fence.
Begging for release from hell.
A convoy of sorrow are led to their demise.
Cruel release unanticipated.
The smell lingered heavy in the dark air.
A collection of souls in need of cleansing.
Needed physical cleansing not.
Perhaps mental release reached.
Sought out by tragic hands.
The shower blocks looked inviting.
To wash away the stench of death.
Filed in horrendously.
The furnace burning hot.
Waiting for another lot.
Let the horrors of the concentration camp not be forgot.
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
"You're gambling death."
The skeleton laughed.
While shuffling card decks,
the skeleton sat across from me.
I was starting to feel uncomfortable..
No. Not uncomfortable...
Maybe the right word is trapped?
How did he even get here?
"I don't really gamble."
I admitted to the bones that configured the human skeleton sitting across from me.
He sounded too sincere.
But still he was smiling.
Still he was lingering.
And as of now, I was getting a tiny bit mad.
I just wanted this thing to leave....
"You know, if you loose, you're not only loosing this game." He hissed.
Of corse with a skeletal smile
that presented teeth such as those of a crocodile.
I watched the bones of his hand point at me through the corner of my eye as he spoke and then as the hand reached for a card.
I tried to pay closer attention to the stray strings on my sleeve
But couldn't help noticing that the crevices of his bones were filled with dust.
"Any old memories you want to reminisce?"
He said mockingly.
"you know? If you must."
He began to continue,
"Why do you look so scared?"
"You're covered in enough dust to have plenty stories for us both."
"Don't you suppose?"
Set me on fire like a wooden mirror
full fledged desire a night seen so clear
a moonlit night, but try as I might
a paramore, a beauty, a sultry sight
skeletal trees imposing upon our sleep
we're taken apart and thrown to the breeze.
can't you see? with the smoke in your lungs
and the fires burning us down
In the longing of a falling star
A cascade of near and far
these blackened lungs with a blackened heart
will soothe us all or tear us apart
Trying, but if I should fail
scratch me with your fingernails
leave me scars I can't erase
even if my mind's forgotten your face
bite deeply into my skin
give me just one more sin
kiss my lips until they're blue
perhaps i'm falling for you
light me up and burn me down
steal away my only crown
follow birds into the far
leave me with only these scars
I'll trace your body with my tongue
blow smoke in my blackened lungs
Make me feel I've been so numb
I'll make your heart beat like a drum
inhale me like your cigarettes
kiss me like i'm your last breath
dig your nails into my back,
grey burned lungs soon to collapse
Inhale me like your cigarettes
kiss me like I'm your last breath
hold your skeletal hand in mine
and lets venture into the world
darkness aside, encompass love
forgive and give, forget to get
what a strange adoration i hold for you
in the depths of darkness
yet find the light
lost in my soul
discover the height and weight
that made the tower of love
reserved for you
light it up, skeleton hands
hold me close, dark heart
maybe if you lost yourself in me
i'd find myself wondering
the maze of your mind.
razor-blade walls, sharp, deadly
don't lean on the walls baby
it'll cut your skin
i'd hate for that to happen
i don't want to hurt you
no matter how you've hurt me
i'd hate myself more if i hurt you
lost in years
you've hurt yourself more
don't make me something
that causes you pain baby
i may not be
the baby dolly
cold ceramic skin
but i am lifeless
in another way
and my skin is cold
our skeleton hands
A window into my mind shows a bleak scene
Gallows stand in a graveyard of my dead hearts
Cold with autumn winds is the season it dies again
It's dying season again
The crows gather on the skeletal trees
And on the iron fence peaks
The sky floods a grey sea
It's amazing how you hold the lever
The one that kills this love forever
Do you dare to pull
And send another heart of mine under
Or will you clear away these clouds of thunder
It will happen one day though
One day the love will go
I wonder what happens when this graveyard is full
And there's nowhere to bury my hanging heart
The swaying body stops with a lull
The love will not go away though its dead, fallen apart
I'm stuck on this one, it won't go away
Until I go too on my dying day
Is this true love?