I tried but the deafeating sound of death captured me
Tore away the shreds of dignity laying peacefully
And I screamed to the damp grasses to let me free
But they withered away in cunningness for sanctuary.

So next day I got up and washed my hands and face
Found a pretty, party dress with contemporary lace
Bought a raspberry cake filled with artificial cream
And danced with dear Batty, Foggy and a spoon.

Life breaks hearts and fills this world with pain
It was in the beginning and still is just the same
But Pooh and Piglet, walk down a country lane
And Hundred Acre Wood is a lovely place to play.

Love to all Mary ***

Drifting off in mid-day
She is there in my parent's house
Where she should not be
She's never met them
been inside their home

...and besides
She's dead...

Don't know where I drop my brains off
or my heart
when sleeping
I so clearly know this
but I dismiss it
for the moment--
go along with joy
to have her with me once again

She looks so well!
Her pale skin flushed
below her ragged, reddish hair
Wearing peacock blue sateen
as always
dressed to ****
to go somewhere
anywhere
away
from loneliness
from cancer

...and she had included me
on her glorious outing
without title
without honor
I had been her teacher-friend
like an elder wedding guest
she had grown
beyond ...

She helps me dump my canvas bag of poems
on my parent's bed
Where I conceived them
or they conceived me

“What about this one?
Or this is a good one too!
I know you can do this!
You read so well!”
she says
I'm thinking, “This is not like Jenn,
so reversed
for her to give a thought...
and besides, it is not even my event!"

Now she's in my mother's place
in her 1950's closet
pushing hangers across the rail
She would find it--
something
I could wear

I am so transported by the smell
of memories
that I don't care
mothballs, lavender, perfume
I get distracted deep within
almost losing track in the euphoria
to have found my friend again
I lose a moment in the soft fur of mom's mink
clipped together mouth to tail
to form the stole
an ouroboros
With its beady eyes
on me
like death
would drape across my shoulders
given half a chance

When from its mouth of glamorous lies....
Jenn shoves me through life's opened door
She has found that dress!
I wore...

the one with hope, and future's
purple flowers
dropped waist and scalloped neck
Yes, It would do, “Yes!"

But now,
she makes excuse to leave
...of meeting Joe
...of going on ahead...

I know
she must

as this is all some clabbered past
a gift of dreams
Still, I want to hug her
just one last....

but she feels empty...

In embrace
she turns to ash

Cumulous pillows
of insomniac depravity
drizzle keen pulp
unto the eye, hair wetting
mattress - springing
metal spasms
upon the spine of those
who dream.
Mellow morning
saltily floats up
from morbid
somnambulations

In her dream,
She was drinking latte in an unknown country,
when the man approached her,

my wife hates you, he said,
you have to pay extra for the coffee.
She had to go,
for fear of the jealousy in his wife's eyes,
because of everything she had.

She has always been privileged,
The princess of a rich kingdom.
The precious one in the family.

Occasionally she heard bad news,
about women in other countries,
but surely, she thought,
they were too violent to be true.

Then she's walking down the street,
newly paved, the king's pride
a group of girls and middle-aged men
gathered in the town square.

A girl's arm reached out from the car window,
She took it, their fingers briefly unite,
before the girl's head was split by a knife.

The streets were saturated with red things,
The girls were murdered one by one,
while she watched, helpless.

Then she felt a hand tightening behind
the back of her head,
In her dream, she became one of the girls,
She's no different from them.

Always at that point, she woke up.
What's wrong, he asked, you were paralyzed with fear.
I had the most lucid and helpless dream, she'd reply.

But surely it must be a dream,
It's too violent to be true
or is it she's sleeping now,
oblivious to anything?

.
I know this place,
light stone avenues,
fig, pear, apricot and apple,
trees that line in rows,
cut paving with neat gutters
**** white granite buildings,
as ferns and creepers
cascade from roof gardens,
the green shining vivid
in appreciation of being alive.
And I connect across the aeons,
this place was my home,
from centuries long passed,
yet reaching out to be found.
The avenues mimic my mind,
long straight and narrow,
broad and winding,
leading to sedate squares
to sit and feel the sun,
to bathe in beautiful isolation.
And the trees sway
casually in a breeze so soft,
it caresses the branches,
enough to tickle the leaves
and cool the ripening fruit.
Here, the forest erupts,
circles around this sanctuary,
forming a natural hedge
to this garden of tranquility,
this oasis in the maelstrom,
this home in my heart.
Flowers of honeysuckle,
jasmine, of clovers and lily,
adorn walls and buildings,
bright in contrast
to the shadows of the trees,
bloom with the intensity of colour,
riotous in hue and arrangement,
yet, ordered to Nature's Law.
Paradise wrapped in image,
slicing through time and space,
my place a thousand years ago,
my place to claim forever,
and the wind carries me home,
I know this place,
because it lives inside of me,
because I made it.


© Pagan Paul (06/06/18)

medusa medusa,
let down the lair
medusa medusa,
let down your hair

so said the last one
go find his head
bring it back to me
my own true love

well, my sweet heart,
between you and the lair
I'd be better off
in love with

the lair

you your own self know
this to be true

but I pledged for life
I'm still here

& then

I am:
the first man to touch you
the way you wanted me to
so I am waiting for you

I will stand here and I will wait
I have wanted you for ten thousand years
no vipers could stop me

who are you fooling?
fake snakes with those
cheap black pearl tears

nothing will stop me
but you, so say the wyrd
but you never will

I love you
always and still

it remains three over three
a hand upon a moment
nothing but rivered memory
wrung out in sodden time

more to follow, years of it

where will you hide it all?