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Aug 2015 · 433
Oath
Darkling Aug 2015
The dizzying effect of
your fingertips
has set my mind at ease

To foreshadow the moon
and your crystalline lips
as the whispers descend
on the breeze

Could your heart beat still?
For everything will
culminate the sins of the day

For my delicate abandon
will completely command us
with love
I shall never betray.
Aug 2015 · 619
Pretty Little Pantomime
Darkling Aug 2015
Pretty little pantomime
I'll give you a nickel
if you'll give me a dime
For what it's worth,
an infinite junk -
a plausible answer to the
poison you've drunk.
Creation to me,
without your denial
could never create
your inebriate child
But hush, dear heart -
the moon's been low
Forget the nonsense
here begins my show.
Aug 2015 · 336
You are Infinite.
Darkling Aug 2015
You are my passion
divine influence
under the moon
between my lips
you are infinite
and I would die for
the likes of you.
Aug 2015 · 704
I miss being kissed
Darkling Aug 2015
I miss being kissed
Miss the way its unexpected
strangely exquisite mundane
to know
there are lips
    waiting
         loving
               needing
your own

Not so much for the own desire
maybe for the satisfaction
inky safe preoccupation
of proving
     your existence
          deliverance
               and desirability

and to not be alone.

Soft skin, a subtle glance,
it is this that I miss.

She needs to be kissed.
Another written when I was still a teenager.
Aug 2015 · 676
I am too close
Darkling Aug 2015
I am too close
to the ever-pressing silence
that dominates the mood of my life.
Eerie jackals pass me in the hall
hungry
for a taste.
Blank stares and quiet skies
interlude
with an electric hum.

Why do I cringe?  
at the thought of a
multitude of realities -

My jungle has no king.
Tender flesh exposed
most delicate in your countenance
I don't know your name
and there are too many of you
to begin with, so I can't end.

Impressions upon the mind
carved deep
with chisel and talon

Release me from this depth
too thick, like a humid morning
with an empty white sheet
staring back across the way.

That quiet sky speaks
no more as I wander
near the shore

Thunderous emptiness
rumble and control me

In the distance, an echo
returning from my silence.

*I am too close.
Written more than fifteen years ago - March 25th, 1998 to be exact - this poem is one of the ones I'm most proud of, and resonates deeply with me right now, as I struggle with depression, anxiety, and PTSD.  

I am sure that it could use some editing, but I don't have the heart to desecrate it right now (though I DO welcome constructive criticism)

Strange that I was still a teenager when I wrote this, and it speaks volumes to me as a grown woman.
Aug 2015 · 339
A Prayer of Lust
Darkling Aug 2015
There is a sweet pain in mapping the history of our coupling.
     meter by meter, each grassy
     embrace and sand-filled kiss
     charts a curious and comforting record.

Stolen moments, a theft
     of space, a conquering
     of body and mind.  Dying leaves
     cover a multitude of our sins

That copse of trees
     my birthday gift, my knees
     quivered and felt
     barely tethered to the ground

Stars wheeling above
     us and behind my eyelids
     as I came, shuddering
     my pulse the steady swift thrum
          of a deep cello chord, velvet-rich
          against the muscle of your tongue
     my spasming thighs, reluctant
          to let you go
                         always.

By daylight cars
     come and go
     oblivious to the chapel,
     the consecrated ground we made

Desire, our religion
     lust, our communion.

I baptized
     the upholstery of your truck
     sweet abandon - my satisfied
     cries a catechism.

Sing Hosanna in the highest
     for every delicate sigh
     you've wrought from my naked body

This, then, is Eden -
     every inch I survey I see
     us naked, worshipping, with
     greedy hands and mouths
     by silver moonlight

The grunts and moans of
     our ******* a hallelujah,
     a psalm.

My temple, your body
My pulpit, your ***** **** -
     your salty skin
In this worship, I am
     perfect - my sermon
     most holy -is an entreaty

Love me,
     Heal me,
          Make my weary body alive again.

Amen.  
     Amen.
Aug 2015 · 540
Untitled
Darkling Aug 2015
Reduced to the sum of
     our parts - the need
     greater than whole
Numbers seem petty - a
    fraction of the equation

Tangent, the shape of our
     bodies all angles, bending
     lines, the radius shifting
     in sweaty palms.

In simpler terms,
     the addition of objects
          one plus one equals two

But such simple terms
     do not apply here
My theorum has no solution,
     no order, needs none

Irrational numbers are far
     more interesting to me.
Aug 2015 · 673
Portent
Darkling Aug 2015
The tittering leaves chutter
    softly to me - embracing
    the clouded sky, portent
    to a coming
    storm.  We could not care
    any less - embrace the heavy
    clouds, a molten mood.

My thoughts are wild, omnipotent
     unhinged.  Lapping water
    tempers the coming
    rain - whispers to me with
    those newly born saplings

Coaxing me to
    freedom, release from
    pain and present

A hope in deluge

A silent thunder ignites.
While writing has always been at the center of who I am, sometimes the challenge of putting thoughts to paper so honestly is too much for me.  Because of this, I've gone through several periods of silence, often lasting years and years.  

Last summer, a very dear friend of mine challenged me to write a poem a week, and he would do the same - he wasn't able to keep his end of the bargain, but in retrospect, I think the sole purpose was to get me to write again,

I am so glad he did.
Aug 2015 · 322
Bedding
Darkling Aug 2015
Here I have three blankets
  all green   all growth    all mold
  and stained with           ashes

the first – soft, a mockery
of velvet it is ***
and sensuality deep, merciless
                     my favorite
lies
close to my bare skin
a slithering comfort – all
lips and fingertips

next, wide and broad
pastel – to ward off demons
                   I know, I conjure them in my sleep
Patchwork and pure
Forgiving the stains    memories
large enough to hide
the light monsters cannot
see the blind

and last for
measure and pressure
a plasticine green, heavy
      a morning in April – morose
it rests
like a mother, a lover
       neither I know
       neither have
       been quite so serene         or forgiving
as this silence

here, I have
created a safe
embrace     the weight
pressing soft kisses
on my aching body
wanting      to be held
                         cooed, soothed
my mossy womb


I could die
like this    safe
and warm
lied
to only by
myself
Aug 2015 · 371
Awakening
Darkling Aug 2015
awakening came alive
burning my eyes
bleeding
into this feeling of
regret
silent smiles in the dark
only carried me
for so long
I burned for you
cried   eyes narrowed
to wilting flowers
the need to grow
to be warmed
to shine     in your arms
whose?   In this burden
this disgrace
I want to feed, a forgotten thought
a calm sigh
settling down
justifying
every word I said to you
Aug 2015 · 518
Threshold
Darkling Aug 2015
I dreamt you again
last night
glittering between curled
toes in
vanquished depths
your ease tripped me
(and does still)

I dreamt waking
to find you in the corner
of my eye the lost
prophet, love
it was all black
berries & that
threshold waltz

Once surrender now
to anything I burn
my eyes awake
banishing your smell &
taste abandoned for
the reality
the nod
& unsaid words.
Aug 2015 · 278
Order
Darkling Aug 2015
order
such a slow thing
drains
In memory
there are times when
composite
composed
energy expended in
small exhalations
quick lovers breath
or tiny mother's kisses
even placid
bills paid
promises kept
thoughts     finished
and then
the crawl back
to warmth
and functionality
once its all
been bled
and the sigh is long
and empty
eyes rolling
depleted
and searching
for the relevance of
THAT when
the working when
before life was a grey sky
and motivation
the still wet pavement
that mirrors it
Aug 2015 · 606
Home
Darkling Aug 2015
room
to room
reflections of
   youth
   the set of
things a timid under-
standing   this womanish
   body
   reverberates
the lie like sun
shine on water

domesticity   close to
home   a slick casing
left  as the pulsing
breathing thing moves
on

I'll decorate anyway
the hollow
where I dwell  and see
slivers of memory
in every picture
hung
Aug 2015 · 359
Mother
Darkling Aug 2015
My Mother's face beams
pixilated
and irreverent thoughts flood
my brain
gazing down
my legs         too long
my ******* too large
his smile is a symphony
before fire and rage
and I, I am
sanguine, just behind
the deceit and pain of
her protrusive smile

My shoulders are too wide, bear
too much     These eyes know
far more than hers
from a distance -
could be alive
and so could she
not as now - no, I cannot
fathom that
but as was - captured
flickering
like my memory of her
before it all went wrong

I search     reluctant
for what small glimpses the
machine might offer
Her name here, not mine
anymore but another’s settles
lead through my veins
screaming       NO
wrong
so gone that this picture
is foreign could be
prepackaged in frames for
convenient selling

I know his
grin as my own
and that sweater was
my favorite
but is foreign too as my
thighs and toes and trailing smoke
are to her
But beaming, I yearn
for what I cannot have
forsaken
with one hand   while I clawed
out my heart with the other

still bleeding for you
my dear Mother
Aug 2015 · 550
The Rising
Darkling Aug 2015
Is it worthy? I asked
and truly meant - I
of such broad company
such grace in unsaid meaning and
interpreted thought
like scent on breeze, I am     reminded
of childhood aspirations
sponge like and decadent
to question
challenge
behold (en)
translucent
my id
in pigtails, hand upstretched to the
cookie jar
gleeful.

I blink - No.
I am Woman now
or so I should be
and stare, transfixed on the tile
eyes s l i d i n g s e e i n g ...
I remember what this feels like
I do - but the pen pauses
falters
Oh! the giving was so easy then
an abundant fountain
pure sweet
lilac & moss and then

No.
anger red heat rolling through
my gut
seared through
steaming memory -
this cannot be
scorched earth
baked clay, and my fingers will not
caress sweet soil when
scentless rock endears
nothing to me.
The recurring silence
had driven me to
apathy...

Yet now the air thins
I remember
the tangible
am I ready to give?
crouched low to the ground
give me
strength
wisdom
energy - to rise,
heat broils sweat in my eyes
or are they tears? -
flex, uncurl these fists to
mighty weapons of infinite power
and rise
heavy, leaden
with depth & purpose
so exposed
but divine with sweet understanding
complex thought
dusty breath caught - paused
and the liquid sky simmers above the
haze and filth
I reach
heat like honesty lashing at
my vision & thought
the deep pulse - heartbeat
ashes
at my feet

pause, inevitable.

so close!
fluorescent silhouettes
draw doubt
It cannot be
I’m not ready
to give
where is that innocent joy?
beyond double meanings
deliberate
unintentional
cruel device
eyes of steel - unblinking, omnipotent

I covet my prose
-a secret clutched to my heart,
hoarding it like gems
like desire and lust
to give
these thoughts ink
and substance
the ground keeps me close

I blink.

am blinded in the heat
of such fervent need
for release
beginning, rebirth
I remember how this feels
so sweet and pure
the need is
intoxicating
spun sugar
silver moonlight
on an ocean of
unsaid self

I rise - the Phoenix - I am
She. I am She
fleeting growing changing
veins are vines
burgeoning patterns on
unfurled wings scream
gold and blazon crimson
blood in the tears I have shed
sweet purpose - my only melody
gives me hope.

I take her tiny hand in mine
and am risen
                        once more.

— The End —