He flowed through me
like molten gold
running down the gutters
of a sacked Jerusalem.

The heat generated
that fire brewing and bursting
crumbled the stone I had placed
around my heart.

Only if for the night
when you peer at me through heavy lids
I don't mind getting lost
losing my senses
my "good senses"

to carry with me a memory
of you, and I in this place
no regrets, no solemn words.

The sun had hid behind the clouds that day.

All else was quiet.

I lay out spreading my fingers
along the wheat like grass that covered me entirely
as I stared up towards the twilight;
wishing that I had only to jump
so I could soar among those bright dots against the cover of the night.

If I closed my eyes
I could almost taste those bright metallic drops,
like warm milk spilling over the brim of the morning pal.

That fantasy I harbored
to lay on the cresent moon like a hammock against the night,
only to have it dip me into the slosh of the Milky Way.
That’s what I long for.

Anything but here.

All I ever wanted,
all my dreams
lay nestled between those stars,
and as the morning sun peeked out from over the horizon,
as the dew that covered my body
rolled down gently
to form tiny shimmering impressions against each blade of grass,

as the first bird began to sing its song
to welcome the heated smell of lilies
and the fading of Pluto before the dawn,

I felt as if I would cry.

I knew,
when that sun shone
in all its concentrated rage
that my life would go to hell again,
as it did every day of my life.

Daddy would wake up.

All would go to hell.

Brittle words hang low over my ears-
Echoes of screams past, children crying,
Newly widowed women numb from loss.
There's a smile watching from afar.

A malicious figure laughs softly.
The cold, unfeeling chortle echoes
And all those who lie upon the field
Hear this sound and tremble from pure fear.

Yet women stand, hate in our dark gaze,
As we know who is to blame for this.
Losing everything hardens all.
A single, once-happy figure stands.

Blazing eyes appear behind dark hair-
Eyes that once were free to laugh and whoop,
But now lack joy and only hold tears.
We know her well- the child of our King.

That dark, laughing figure from far off
Now moves mockingly to sunder hope.
Our brave new Queen neither speaks nor moves.
We catch the feeling she radiates.

Deducing now, we quietly stand,
Building an impenetrable web
That no male being can e'er explain.
Our children cling to our bloodied skirts.

Silently, we wait for our Queen's move.
At first it is soft, but it builds up-
The battle song of Aesma, our land.
Our voices blend into one- we sing:

Merry is the gaze of kings
Upon our prosperous land.
With a battle cry,
We fiercely fly
With valiant swords on hand.

As voices ring, there is no King,
There is no you nor me,
There is only this melody
That binds us as we sing.

Our volume continues rising strong.
Those of us who deign not to sing, clap.
Sorrow clouds many a mind, and yet-
Rage enters our hearts as we sing on.

Aesma, Aesma, keep us safe,
As we fight to stay the blade
Of those who do fight
To end our right
And force their own wrong to trade.

The dark figure has stopped his advance.
His cold smile has begun to falter
We know that his evil power goes
Only as far as fear does remain.

As voices ring, there is no King,
There is no you nor me,
There is only this melody
That binds us as we sing.

Our Queen stops us with a pale, raised hand.
We know what she intends, and so wait.
As her hand moves down, we start to sway,
And stamp and clap in synchronized beat.

The Queen raises her voice first, the note
That begins our final battle cry.
Keeping the beat, we begin to march
Toward the figure, singing once more.

We are one.

We do not care if our lives are harmed.
This evil shadow has taken all
That we ever held dear. We are strong.
We move to ****, to avenge rightly.

We are one.

We feel the spirits of our people
Supporting us and driving us on.
Nothing can ever stop us in this-
Our final march. We know we must die.

We are one.

But we have purpose- we can never
Falter-- if we all die here, we shall
Have the satisfaction of knowing
We are taking the shadow with us.

We are one.
We, fighting are one.

Time grows late for the frozen shadow.
He knows there cannot be turning back.
He prepares his strength to survive,
But knows in his cold heart he shall die.

And none else shall ever reign
Upon this-

Last thing seen riding into chaos-
Is the darkened figure, doing the
Only thing right he has ever done-
Accepting his fate alongside us.

OUR land.


© 4/3/13

I've said it before
I've said calm and zen
I've declared and I've swore
And I'll say it again
I am not afraid to die

When I think of death my head is burning
And in a way I'm yearning
To be done with all this rotten lack of truth.

When I think of death my head is raving
And in a way I'm craving
To be done with all this agony
I've paid my dues
And I've got nothing left to lose
I'm not afraid to die

This seems hopeless and sad to you
You're wondering
"What does she live for, if she does not fear the universal fear?"
I will laugh at the odds, and laugh at everything, and laugh at the austere
And live my life so well that Death
Will falter, flicker, hesitate
And hover in reluctance
Before taking me away

The leeching color from my eyes
My parched mouth puckered
My joints are stiff, stubborn and brittle
Creaking like exhausted floorboards
Wringing my fists, white ands shriveled
Twisting my hands, skinned and raw
I'm ill with desperate thriving
Too weak to carry on, don't have the choice
Veins laden with liqueur, thinning hopes and regret
Pulsing pulsing pulsing
Bones fluttering with birds of bad omen
Scalp rid of hair to make place for the thorny crown of vanquishment
Blood diluted with bitter disappointment,
Sloshing, smearing through my mucked-up system
Aching from the deadly drone of existence
From small victories, large defeats
I'm the mortar, they're the pestle
Clobbering into my hollowed life.

The hammer of that thing
Routine so dull and tedious
Pounding and pounding and pounding
When you can't even scream or weep
Thud thud thud
My temples scream with dank submission
My brain is reeling, hurling from the vertigo of it all.

Morning, noon & night
The dead avenues, the empty buzzing
Beats hammers in my brain
Throb throb throb
I'm quivering with numbness.

I'm mature now, I'm ripe
So ripened and rotten
Adult things, adult preoccupations pulsing around me
It seems like person really only has two choices
Get in on the aimless hustle or be forsaken
I've taken it all up
Rent, coffee, wine, cigarettes and newspaper
Forgotten pills
Unpaid bills
Thump thump thump
Anguish, pain, woe and misery
Turbulence and stress, the banging hammer.

I'm a drunkard, a wanderer
With a beaten, battered suitcase
Days like these, weeks like these, when all the weapons are pointed at me
I'm a ***, an outcast
A pigeon in the pummeling rain
Dribble dribble splash
The ache is a relentless thing.

My job, my rent, my house
My walls limp with memories stuck with rotting glue
Wallpaper torn, curling at the edges
The cold hard floor radiates and screams
The couch, cold & hollow
Incrusted with bits of filthy grime
The dead radiator hisses like an angry snake
The shades down, no sunlight
No life seeping through the venetian blinds
And my clothing sits in the chairs
Like the dead emptied out
The blankets are thin, frayed and tattered
As hope is
The moths, on the other hand, are alive and well
They weave webs of moribund rot
Interlacing me into their strands of decay.

Surrounded by the coldhearted, they snarl
And their laughs abash, dishearten the pure
Bruising me relentlessly
They are so tired, mutilated
either by love or no love
All their bleak and sunken eyes
All their weak and drunken souls
All their meek and shrunken hearts
Vultures with neckties
Weasels in frocks
Collared beasts, that's all they are.

The mournful poet with the shrapnel wound
Was so wrong
I guess he wanted to be lyrical, but his words led astray
Time is not water
It does not flow easy, smooth and transparent
It drags you into dark alleys and batters the hell out of you
Punches you in the ribs, rips your skin,
Jerks you by your hair, stabs you, disfigures you
Leaves you crippled and broken, gasping for air.

Sweating in a rocker
Lanky skeleton hands clasped, praying- for what?
I'm not living, or dying
I'm simply crawling backward
Or no, I'm not crawling, I'm being dragged,
Through nights of lonely perfidy, breathing the beaten dusty air
The dark wind wailing, ebbing through the frail curtains
Laying in bed, too wretched to move
When memories, of heaven and hell,
Droop like broken shades
Across the window of my mind
And ****, I can feel my soul slowly dropping down through the mattress
My stomach is heaving, my teeth clenched and gritted
But not with fear, no, it's too late for dread
And it *****, because we realize we were all so caught up in a life in which we can find no meaning...we end up wrong and graceless and sick
We're born shriveled and alone, we die shriveled and alone
No matter what.

There are two tonight-
two ambulances,
red lights illuminating the dark neighborhood
as they make their weekly trip to the old folks home
at the end of the street.
This could be the end of eight decades for someone
for a neighbor of mine.
Could be one less crazy old woman
walking down the street shouting at the neighborhood dogs
(and mailboxes).
The lights fade from view as they cross 9th.
A tear falls to my desk
as I wonder
"who was that?
what ended tonight?"
and as I lay down and roll over to stare at the wall
I imagine who they could have been.