In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't hear the roar
That thundered out across the sky

In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't see the fire
That spewed forth upon the ground

In the middle of the windstorm
You didn't feel yourself burn
Caught in the eye of the inferno

As the world incinerates to ash
Know the seeds you planted
May finally have the warmth to grow

people seem to move their lips
but
nothing
ever
comes out.
well, that's not exactly true.
words escape
like dead leaves
in a windstorm
but like leaves
they
flutter
and flurry
useless things.

a pretty painted kissable lip
tempts
no one
when the words it drops like bombs
explode
killing
the life
it
envied

It can be slow and gentle
Let your waves crash in perfect harmony
Each ****** a breeze in the ecosystem of you
Simple moaning of melodic pleasure

Or

It can be fast and rough
Hurricanes and waterfalls
Each ****** a windstorm in the ecosystem of you
Screaming, still melodic

I can do this often or seldom
This ecosystem can have many visitors or none
*** is mine to have
Whenever I please

You label me
But sweetie,
I'm too wet for your labels to stick

i am a feather
weathering a windstorm
fragility is my definition
please
remember that

red kites
we are
made strong
when
we
fly
high above
the
gray windstorm

I. The Encounter

I awaken to the lull of your voice: seductive whispers that send waves of electricity through my being. And then I see you. The demi-god that you are. And I worship you. Give me strength to endure your charms. And you do charm me, just as I know you will. Lapis eyes dance back at me. But then I'm dreamy; not awake, not asleep. Still in that state between dreams and realities. And to me, you are a god. But reality ~cruel mistress~ charges at me, and I see you for yourself. A mere mortal as I. But still I worship you. You've already begun your seduction. And I am a willing victim.

My first encounter with you is brief, only moments spent in your company. I would've scorned any human brave enough to insist that I would some day love you. I don't want to be aware that you have any power over me. No man has power over me. I have pushed all thoughts of men from the dusty corners of my mind. My life evolving around school and work and her, my lover. You know we are lovers. And I know you are married. Neither of us have scruples.

You offer me a bowl. Soaring above the world helps you cope. I am grounded and decline. But I watch you carefully. Pipe in hand, breathing deeply the smoke of the gods. And I find you amusing. Eyes turning glassy, mirroring my soul. Your face lit by uncontrollable laughter. And I am spiraling from the slightest contact of you.


II. The Seduction

Just a look. It takes only a look from those lapis eyes. And I'm hooked. Captivated by their icy-blue fire. And I'm burning there, burning in those lakes of infinity, those magnetic pools. Electric shocks wave through me, toss my senses, turn me into pure desire. And I desire you. You and the musky scent of your body lit by lust. Driven. Pushed to the insatiable limit. Inflamed.

Spoken and unspoken, your words ****** me. Enticing me, those words encircle me, swirl about me, intoxicate my mind. Notwords. Those words you say with your eyes, your smile, the rhythm of your body. And your whispers. Hot breath against my cheek, my ear, my neck; a trail of kindled passion waiting to explode. And I cannot resist the temptation. Tempted beyond reason, caught in the moment, trapped in the never-ceasing yearning of my body for yours.

Smoldering. You smolder me with kisses. Blaze my body with your tongue, your touch. Smooth skin against mine. A hand filled with impulses, pulsating, beating the rhythm of our hearts, like beats of the tunes you make love to. Wild, savage drums. Wild, savage love. And I long all the more for you. Your touch, your scent, the feel of you in me.

You recreate me. Change me. Make me want you again and again. Seduced.

III. Missing You

Missing you as I do, I cannot remember my life before you. Before your smile touched the depths of my heart. Before I gazed into those familiar eyes and saw my soul staring back at me. Before I felt your lips on mine, sweet, intoxicating, the slightest hint of tequila and lime. Your hands upon my flesh, electric waves. And the movement of your body with mine in cadence to the primal dance. Before you took me into your arms, I existed as only a shell of a woman. A tiny speck among specks in the vast universe. But you reshaped me. Molded me into a goddess. Allowed the woman inside of me to resurface and reclaim her sexuality.

And now you are gone. Out of my life for weeks. Out of my sight, but not my mind. I see you gazing back at me from the mirror each time I look into my own eyes. And then my mind takes flight and I escape with it. At that moment, I can once again feel your arms around me. Your soft, tender touch. The lulling of your husky voice. The musky scent of your skin. I watch from my grounded plane as you lead me to bed, turn down covers, and then motion for me to lie down. You remove my clothing, stripping away all resistance, all inhibitions. Prince sings seductively in the background. And I lose myself in your loving. You descend upon me like a child with an ice cream cone. Lapping at the cream you stir from within me. Your tongue tracing circles upon my skin. A flick of an ***** ******. Kisses trailing my body from lips to thighs and then there. And you linger there. Minutes seem like hours and hours like days. But I cannot imagine time without you. Only after I have traveled into the netherworld you lead me to, do I finally feel you. Hard and long, buried into my flesh. Deep inside me. Inflaming my body with each stroke. You take me, over and over again, to that netherworld of pleasure. And I want to stay. Remain there with you, eternally.

So missing you like I do, I have no appetite for anything but you. Depression falls upon me like a black cloak shielding me from the outside world. And I realize that missing you is missing a piece of me too. Missing my eternal friend. My soul's mate. My heart's constant pounding. Missing you is missing me with you.


IV. Betrayal

You said you'd made your choice: she and I, that's all you'd need. And I wanted to believe you; almost did, in fact, believe that two could be enough. I could've lived with that. She, bound by contract and children; I, bound by lust and desire. I know the game; have played it hundreds of times. And I put my trust in you to keep your word. But you don't belong to me. I have no control over you, no real ability to keep you under control. And so I baited you. Ensnared you in your own trap. Shoved temptation under your nose to test your honor. You have none. You accepted my trap; opened the door to her: a third, an easy, vulnerable prey.

And now you've lost. You will keep the first; she is bound by a higher law. But I am your loss.

Cheap words. You say whatever it takes. Words fall from your tongue as carelessly and easily as a dismissed annoyance. Your heart as cold as the snow surrounding us. You work emotions like a stagnate river: stuck in the routine of building up and tearing down the very dams of trust and passion you blueprint. But I am not like the others in your past. I am a true player. One of the faithful few. But you've destroyed that faith. I know where I stand with you. You've placed me in some category with your other casual notaffairs. But there is nothing casual about me. And if you had taken the time, been true to your word, you would've learned this. I give my all. All of my being, my heart, my soul. Not obsession, just loyalty. I await the rules, and when I have them, I play by the book. But you constantly change the rules, make them up as you go along. And since I cannot claim any part of you, I stumble over your turn of events. And although I try to keep up, I no longer want to match you set for set.


V. Exposed

You breeze through lives like a windstorm: tossing and turning, stumbling along into one life after another. *** appeal, your weapon: a loaded gun, a sword, a double-edged axe. You are crystal in your attempt. Pristine in your approach. Primitive, you take women back to the primal, the cave of the Neanderthal. Back to pure animalistic intoxication. And I almost allowed this. I wanted you. I did want you. You and the beauty that existed on the outside. Muscular facade that shields the turmoil within. And you could've had me.

Those eyes, so like mine, pulling, dragging me further into their blue lake. I would've drowned there for you. Allowed myself to get caught in the whirlpool of your loving. I wanted to more than you could ever know. Whirling there, swirling there. Sinking further and further into the fiery lake of your seduction. And I would not have defended myself. Passive. A kitten de-clawed. I would've sank into your abyss willingly, awaiting your strong arms to enfold me, save me, wrap me into your soul. Die from the shear ecstasy of you.

I confessed. Opened my soul to you. Permitted your entrance. And you took the challenge. Stepped in and put my inner world in order. Sorted through the chaos within me. Within. You were deeper than you knew. In that enigmatic space, you found the seed of my essence buried in a dry desert. And you rained on me, reigned over me, until I blossomed for the first time in years. I unveiled fully for you. A lotus petaled and filled with sweet, sticky nectar awaiting your touch. I removed all masks, all defenses, stripped away all layers. Showed you the sincerest parts of my being. Exposed. Naked. Displayed this being to you without shame or regret; I bore all. You knew me. The new me. The hidden me. The me that rarely allows passage. But I couldn't resist you. You entranced me. ****** me into you. Stole my breath. Exhaled. And scattered me into the wind.


VI. The Fool's Folly

Making restitution. This is what you say you want. And I struggle within, look to the stars, the cards, and my own inner voice. Should I trust you? My horoscope says a fifty percent chance of let-down today. And the cards say, sure trust him, you fool. But inside I scream I want to trust you!

Then I take a reality pill. Swallowing it hard and dry. And I realize this is what I do with you. I swallow you, refusing other nourishment. I swallow you in gulps, like a fine wine. Allow you to descend inside of me, make me raw from the wanting of you. And when the effects of you occur, I immediately become induced, intoxicated, high from the effect. I lose all sense of existence, except for you.

You become the center of that little world you say I've created for myself. You lay there on a bed of black satin, your body shimmering from the candle-lit radiance. And I see you there, there with me and in me, beside me, circling my body with your passion dance. Prince bellows another scream in cadence with my own.

Perfect timing. Too perfect. You give away your method of operation. But only I know of its existence. I have one of my own. And so we come full circle. Knowing you as I do. Knowing your secrets, your methods, your devices of seduction, can I allow your restitution? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Can I risk playing the fool?


VII. Vanished

You've vanished again. Escaped to god-knows-where without me. Again. Without me in your life. Recluse, you've turned me into you. A recluse without explanation. Locked me into the world that exists around you. Trapped me there, helpless, without you to guide me through. And only you have the map, the way to the gate: the escape route you use to flee when life attacks you in the dark. And I want to explore the passage with you. To tell you all that I feel. Feel you with me, in me, beside me. But I'm covered by this web of confusion. A thick heavy blanket of your tormented soul. And mine is there with yours. Our lives intertwined as they are. Twined into enigma. If you would only step from the shadows, motion me forward, I know we could make it out again. The blinded-by-lust leading the blinded-by-lust. And together we could cut our way through this thicketed labyrinth.

Windstorm blowing through
suspending the days
Irish summer ending I shiver
at the darkness spreading
the white wisp morphing into black cloak

The fig tree stands branches wild
new sprouts shaking
second season raspberries
crushed on the wall
the tomato vine falls heavily to the ground

Sprigs jerking I sway
trunk holding fast until it fractures
I collapse and the fruits splatter
sap leaking I wipe my cheeks
flustered by my syrupy hands I stare

a sound a shout I straighten
the burgeons call

there's no progress report for this.
no checklist, no itinerary,
no template to restore order
in the aftermath of your tornado path through my heart.
the chaos is powerful and uncontrollable;
i can only watch the person i was with you crumble away
and sweep up the dust.

sometimes i take inventory:
am i eighty-five percent guilt today,
or thirty-nine percent confusion?
or fifty-four percent loss,
or one hundred percent ache,
hot salt water springs bubbling up
from just a brush with the magma burning below the surface?

dust is beginning to settle on the box of our memories that i hid away, where the twister would never touch it.
if only there was some way to give time through an IV,
because i don't know what to do with this heart-shaped stone in my chest.

Leaves.
Inside out.
Living things
Buffeted by the unseen.
Wrecked into action
As if awoken violently from a still sleep.
The howling
And merciless,
Unending,
Exhalation from Heaven!
Not a creature is stirring
But for birds
Adjusting their navigation gear
After too many near misses.
"There's snow in the forecast"
And we will be stronger to face it
Because of today.

Great gusts of wind rattle the windows,
howling, howling,
I sit at my desk,
and peer out my window:
A lit door in a
driveway, I see it through dancing
twigs through black of night:
the house of my neighbor

He comes to the door in a grey robe, opens it,
his sniffle echoes to my window,
an orange cat runs out,
skitters with soft paws across the cold pavement out of the spotlight-streetlight, behind a
           dumpster,
The wind, the wind,
it's shaking my building,
it's whipping the belt of his robe.
I close my eyes.

I open my eyes.
City Hall: white steeple, gold dome,
City Hall is illuminated purple out the window,
out the window:
streetlights, lit windows, dancing trees,
I focus my eyes, see myself.
I look angry.

Sound of a siren,
I look down,
back,
in the driveway,
blue and red lights,
a squadcar is parked.
I can't do this, I think.
I'm tired.
My building shudders in the wind,
don't want to say too much,
don't want to say
too little.

What exactly does closure feel like?
I'm not really sure because
the days I felt my first heartache
like a bullet to my chest
I cried for a week straight then got over it-
I had so many friends, I never cared to love again.
I was never really sure how to close the open door
the day my grandma died my mind went blank.
So I drank away the pain until the images
of her cancer ridden body faded away.
How do you cope when at the same time
you see your grandmother die
you remember these horrors
from your childhood of someone ripping away
your innocence.
I haven't been the same since.
So now what's left?
I have left the one I love
with a heavy heart
and no closure to console me.
I just feel as if I am drifting
slowly and without a lifeboat
no paddle in merky waters
with a windstorm that won't quit.
But I feel at peace
like the calm before the storm
that realizes it will be sunny one day again soon.
So how will closure console this empty soul?
I've never really felt that feeling before.
Closure is a ******* step child to me-
just an extra sock that can't find a match.
A newly lit match burning out too fast
never to be used again.
A bowl filled with resin
when all you need is one ******* hit.
Closure is a seesaw with no one at the other end to help-
you're on your own adventure
and you only venture from the usual path.
It's a road you walk alone-
barefoot upon rocks that have been shaped from struggle.
Closure is the progression into solitude.
So how do I get closure from you?
How do these hands feel okay again
not holding on to yours-
how does my bed feel whole again
without you next to me.
I'm not sure quite yet-
but one day I will see.
Closure is an empty room
before a dance recital
it's a preconcert soundcheck
and everyday anxiety.
The nights are worse than the days
and I've come to grips with feeling this way.
I hope one day to feel okay.
I know one day I will feel okay-
because today, I feel pretty okay.

I want to understand the forces
unfurling in a hurricane, but must
be content in my sheer ignorance.
I come to my same favorite place
one day to write, and the power
is gone. Then I come with
huge new ideas and want to
write like--well, like the wind--
and the wind has come up,
hurricane-like, and my penmanship
turns to scribble-pictures on paper.

I hide behind my truck and
behind a silver trash barrel,
but this hurricane wraps around
with a power no one can avoid.
The important things I have
reserved for saying, how will
they get said? At least, they're
not surfacing in this
day's storm-upset thinking.

Six Chinese kids lift
their heads above the
bluff where I look at angry
water. They wave to me.
I nod, but my hands grasp
the flapping paper tablet.
I hear their song-like tongue,
a chorus mixed with groaning gusts.
There is too much wind
coming from the west, from
the direction of China, so far away.

You are the cold silent breeze
I am the wild windstorm
 
You are the gentle humming of the leaves
I am the startling blare of thunder
 
You are the first ray of sunshine after a downpour
I am the piercing lightning
 
You are the fleeting floating clouds of cotton
I am the cumulonimbus cloud brewing a monsoon
 
You are the smell before and after the rain
You are the calm before and after the storm
I am the chaos in between
Enclosing me in your peaceful clasp
 
Embrace me
Tighter

I flung my screams over the gunwhale
Into the unhearing sea
And lowered my anchor, weighted
with an ignominious plea:

Just as a single dark wave
Costs the vessel its course,
So did my evanescent joy
cost me you;

Even the riverbank is changed
minutely by its waters,
and so my life alters
with you

The storm stirs wildly,
but sobers, from thence
coming ashore
and so does my spirit for
you

They speak in riddles and old friends find new reason to resemble old enemies .
Basatrds often hide in others shadows and you were different it seems.

Bleed my thoughts and I will expose the root of your nonexistent soul.
The tongue a weapon in select company the disease spreads all the same.

Flawed vessels and moments wasted thinking over you.
The statue stands a reminder and a play toy to others .

Let delusion bury there ego as we shovel the fragments .
Nothing finds solace like a bitter rivals demise .

Oh how I miss the friendship that seemed more a hateful cause .

Did you find all to see the darkness you could not grasp?

The snakes slither and I simply stand remorse holds no burden within my thoughts.

And this has found yet a pleasant demise .

Drifting like a feather in the wind,
Being carried here and there,  
In love's windstorm, around I'm spun,
Just a prisoner of the air  

Floating and tumbling in turbulence,  
Once more  being turned around,    
At any time expecting love      
To cruelly dash me to the ground  

Dancing like a feather in the wind  
With no solid ground to tread;  
While floating over restless waves,  
It's the cross current that I dread  

A feather.... just floating.... in the wind,  
How I fear the hurricane! 
The raging  winds of love's deceit  
That would see my hopes and dreams slain

Twisting and turning, out of control,  
Surrender the sole recourse;    
Let the winds of love have their way,  
Blustering with their awesome force!  

Just a feather carried by the wind,  
Sanity becomes a blur;
I rise, then I fall helplessly
While begging the wind not to stir!

Half asleep on my walk to the bus stop,
The Texada clear-cut smiles like the gap-tooth of the Georgia Strait
and the 3 pops of melatonin ingested 11 hours ago still have me waning on the down-low like a somewhat solid ghost in a Labrador windstorm.

I send you paragraphs
And all of my heartbreaks make me worried I've finally scared you off
But logic trusts itself to you and says, 'Cabo San Lucas, tantrastic,'
I'm no stoic. Otherwise this poem would still be sleeping in alphabet.

It's only the middle of the week but it feels like it's been a month,
At least
At little
The weather is Hyde again,
But as of right now I don't really mind
I just wish you had sunk into my chest last night as we slept together,
Finding our mind within its memory foam,
I dreamed of you and wondered
If Mexico really existed.

This oak tree
Stands so tall,
It’s so thick, it can stand against
Any windstorm, at any day
Wind is all that comes out your mouth

I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t, set me free.

This oak tree
Moves with grace.
It moves and sways to the breeze.
Its branches, arms in the air,
Move to the sound of hallelujah

I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t, set me free.

& you just keep breaking me.
I just wish your love was stable,
& I wish your love was free.
Cut the oak tree down
So fast &hard; that others hear.
A million could.
If you’re going to build a cabin,
At least have a foundation,
Or just turn me into firewood.
& burn it like our bridges.

But this oak tree
Doesn’t say much,
It doesn’t say anything at all
It has nothing to say to you

I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t let me be free.
Let me be me.

O, mosaic of my oft marveled at Mosie
You fade away as swift as the windstorm enters
Mosaic, I've built you up in my mind's cubbies
And you permeate through my brain's centers

Every experience boiled itself into me
Constructing a picture of you that I could see
Which I could consult when I reached difficulty
Or whose answer I could envision in monotony

O, Mosaic, you quickly go, as hurt intrudes
The pain pervades all points of space
It destroys you and ceaselessly protrudes

Gone are the days when I'd see your face and caress it
Gone are the prayers we'd hold up our relationship and bless it
And now gone is your magnificent mosaic
Even though it pains me just to say it

O, Healing, come faster than your predecessor
May you permeate the place we made and become its successor
And, God, can You be real and continue to bless her?

As your mosaic fades away
Dreams of tomorrow thus can't stay

As your mosaic breathes its last breath
Let us exhale that last sigh
The one we always talked about before our death

This time, drifting further and farther apart
This time, holding our aching and breaking hearts

I felt the sheer physicality of disorder
Natural law brought from normalcy to the very feet of the unresolved
My foolhardy paradise was in momentary question , bewildered acreage seeking every direction , to the keeper his insignificance , to points East the coming wrath of his Maker ..

Het Poema moved through the snow

                         Fierce like a great windstorm

                                             Hiding from the barbaric hunter

Fatal like a shotgun

                    Moving swiftly as the ocean

                                              On a stormy night

But Het Poema is quick

                      And the hunter is lunch

                                               His weapon  left in the cold winter snow

And his blood

                To be unnoticed

                               For an eternity

Red Leaves moving by the river
Red leaves blowing in the breeze
Billowing in dusty circles
Settling down just how they please.
Red leaves falling from the maple
Falling down like scarlet rain
Painting Autumn tones for lovers
Making way for winter’s pain.
Feel the crispness of the evening
Watch the ***** frost gather there
Crunching through night’s frozen pasture
Billowed breath in morning’s air.
Running down the road in gum boots
Kicking up the piles of leaves
Making waterfalls of redness
Tensions flee and worries ease.
How I love the feel of Autumn
Stillness in the afternoon
Watching long clouds rich in grandeur
Golden sunset, crescent moon.
Winter comes with gales and thunder
Lightning flashes in the trees
Red leaves flailing in the windstorm
Graceful Autumn bows ....and flees.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
30th May 2008

I see blue sky.
I see the most perfect clouds.
I see birds chirping
I glance towards your eyes again to get another glimpse of the heavens but you’ve already walked away.

Your hair swaying as you walk like trees in a windstorm. My breath pushing them since you took my breath when you took away my loveless mind and replaced my breath with jealousy and temptation to talk to you when I don’t have the ***** to say hello.

Your smile brings tears to the glass eyes you had me get from the first time I sacrificed my sight to lay my eyes on you. Your mind like lava, burning everything in its path but slows down just enough to let you slip past without harm but wrecks everything else you care about.

Your perfume brings scent to my nostrils that I never want to forget. I can’t even describe it but I know that it’s you whenever I can smell it.  

Your laugh is enough to bring Zeus down from the heavens just to witness how cute you are. You hate your laugh, you really do. But when I hear your laugh I can’t help but smile because even your flaws are perfect and draw me back.

I see the ocean.
I see the white caps splashing down over my mind and pulling me through the tide.
Not a life guard in sight but I know there is hope somewhere in your eyes.

I don’t think you’re real but you’re too tan to be a roman statue.
Your heartbeat would shatter the marble instantly,
But could cut diamonds with a single beat.

I gain my breath back as you lie down to sleep.
I gain my conscience back when you close your eyes.
I listen for the ocean I see whenever I see your eyes
But all I hear is the silence of my heart beating to see you again.

A grain of sand,
Once part of a desert dune,
Taken away by a windstorm,
Parted too soon

Regal was the life,
In the dune where I was born,
Unearthed now,
From my existence torn

A wandering gypsy,
I'm one with the wind,
From all my attachments,
Unhinged, unhinged

11/24/2013*

I am not
a girl

and I am not
a boy

I am a
storm,
a hurricane,
a tornado,
an earthquake

and
under my skin,
there is a
universe

with millions of
stars,
and planets,
and emotions,
and chemicals,
and scars

I am not
a girl

and I am not
a boy

there is a
windstorm
in my heart,
and in my head,
and in my bones,
and in my blood

and there are
galaxies
throughout my cells,
and throughout my skin

I am not
a girl

and I am not
a boy

I am far more
than that

© 2013 Scarlet Van Allen

The ill-est of all winds has started blowing,
And my little pile of sand begins to disappear.
I swept it up so carefully, between
The rocks and all the hardest places,
I protected it from dogs and little children,
Guarded it against the rain and snow.

I never counted on the wind increasing.
Always just a zephyr, it brought butterflies
And the scent of Jasmine in the summer,
And cooled a sweaty brow while playing.
I didn’t notice as the wind speed grew,
A little at a time, until it was too late.

Now the sighing’s turned into a howl
That cannot be ignored or quelled.
It whips around the windbreaks I put up
And pushes on all objects in its way.
I race to cover up my sand pile
But I lack a blanket big enough.

I fling myself across to hold it down
But I don’t have sufficient hands or fingers,
And I see my precious, swirling grains
Begin to drift away into the cracks
And crevices of all those hardest places
Where I can never sweep them out again.

Picking up my tattered blanket at a lull
There is nothing left beneath but shiny rock.
The only sand, a few grains found
Embedded in the pattern of the weave.
I wrap myself up tight in it
And stumble out into the coming storm.
ljm

For my 2016 writing project, I’ve decided to write a single line of poetry every day for an entire year. Below, is November’s poem. Enjoy!

Thirty-three years old.
A brother lost.
A father fighting on.
A mother standing tall.

I feel brave.
Only death can defeat me.
It nearly did.

Still, I stand.
We all do.

We are like trees in a windstorm.

Life discounts me.
That is its mistake.

We've been to the brink.
We've stared over the cliff.
Edges are nothing to be feared.

Life defined in two parts.
My own personal B.C. and A.D.
Before destroys me.
The next is mine.

With bated breath.
I turn the page.
I begin writing a new chapter.

Much will be said of this time.
It is my beacon of hope.

These hours are mine.

Numbers on a wall,
Each with a purpose.

Let's use this story.
Let's save a soul.
November 3rd can change things.

july 16 2011
the air stuck to my skin,
clinging for life,
grasping for adhesion.
the cool, night air making minuscule mountains rise all across my arms.
we were far from alone,
yet all i could possibly be aware of was you.
feeling my head roll back onto the tweed, orange sofa, i looked up through the roof windows of the teepee.
i began to count and trace the stars,
only to steady my rapid heartbeat and abrupt breathing.
the breeze picks up and suddenly penetrates deep into my core,
sending out waves of shudders throughout my entire body.
shaking like a dandelion in a windstorm, you invite me closer and closer,
you can see the look of hesitation in my eye,
you understand it;
you feel it too.
ignoring your instincts, you envelop my frigid torso in your warm, big arms.
finally settling in, the others begin to disperse,
one by one,
until only we remained.
the beauty of this mid-july night was apparent,
and, all tucked away,
we laid there for hours
listening
intently
to the bullfrogs, to the crickets,
to the sound of the waves from the small lake kissing the shore, to the cool breeze mingling with the sweet warm summer air.
the morning crept along and we pulled each other
in and out
of the haze we created.
in the morning, it was cold again,
but i got only your jacket and a hushed
"don't tell".

I am a leviathan
I love like a shipwreck.
I am warm darkness
in the belly of the beast.
I'll swallow you whole.

I am envy,
I love like a sea monster.
I am calm and terror,
the rusted anchor
at the pit of a drowning
man's stomach. I am
salt water, flooding your lungs.

I am years of tempest
and unending rain,
I am an oil spill on black ocean.
I am windstorm; I smother, I take,
I love like a death sentence.

When the rain is cold and pelting
When the windstorm shreds the trees
Do you find your courage wanting?
Is there weakness in the knees?
Have you faced the dark intruder?
Have you stared that challenge down?
Have you summoned forth the fortitude,
To keep humiliation gowned?
Camouflaged the leaden spinelessness,
That dreaded empty space,
Where once there was a warrior
Who wore courage on his face.


Felt the thrashing of the current
As the waves come pounding in,
Inexorably it lacerates
And tears the fair white skin.
The brutality of bedrock,
The blackness of the night,
And the fear that runs like mercury
Through the torment and the fright.
The uselessness of effort,
The lassitude of limb,
It’s the cramping ague of gutlessness
That is consuming him.


Dissipating storm clouds
The skies begin to clear
And with it go emergencies
And with it goes the fear.
Residually it lingers
As a gnawing hollow blend
Of anxious blue inadequacies,
Of unsubstantiated end
To performance under duress,
Compared to that which is the norm,
It’s just a blinding lack of courage
Whilst in the torment of the storm.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
24 November 2008

In the middle of M.G road
Gandhi's statue stands.
Built in 1947 with help
of concrete and sands.
Battered by scorching sun,
rain and windstorm.
But still managing to
stay ***** high on platform.
How similar is statue's
narration to theirs.
Now statue will not stand any
storms, it is the fears.
Met* department has alerted
wind will move 90 knots.
Many are calm but many are
involved in inveterate fusspots.
Two identities but still
similar story similar tale.
They were born in storms but
will the statue survive this gale.

not much more
than a metaphor
as a butterfly flap
is a windstorm.