Now haunted by the Spirit of song and dance,
I am alone in the gloom of my defeat.
Once a poor prey to burning fits of vanity,
Now cast out with black wings of rebellion,
A garment of violence and a crown of pride.

The sky grew dimmer,
Bright lights of divine release and relief
Now forgone,
Sparkling golden roads and pearl white gates
Now behind me.

With no untold strange angst,
All the world knows of this deeper impulse given
to me by loneliness.
Once a beautiful body, now bent back like a
Paper clip.
Bright and Morning Star I am no more.

A fallen angel with an objective:
I am the Swindler of Divine Romance.

Cold, still clouds of blood rain,
Thick drops of agony
Fell on your lips.

I have defied the Life
By controlling his destiny

Oh, my Holy Puppet,
Curiouser and curiouser I was to ask,
What were your thoughts?
Did you always know?
Were you thinking, why?

Captivated by darkness,
I lathered the lotion of fellowship on my skin
To hide my true intentions.

Sweats trickled from your brow
When I pressed my lips against your cheeks.
A rushing stream of adrenaline ran through my heart
Upon my poisonous kiss.

Pieces of silver told me of your Sadism,
Of how you took away the sweetness of the
Vanilla extracts of my life.

My desires you denied!
Now die in shock, and let your last breath
Be nothing but a seeping gasp of silence.

You brewed a special brew
to dry the tears
from our face.
We sipped from your cup
to heal our spirits,
and invited us into God’s grace.  

A joy you stirred,
a comfort you sustained.
A love so sweet
like lemon and sugar,
honey and sweet cream.

Through the Father’s love
you gave us what
we savored most.
From your teacup
we drank,
you gave us the perfect dose.

From this,
now we understand:
Endless is a mother’s love,
unconditional from your hands.

A brilliant orange streaks
the sky to invite a sinking sun
that gives new light
to a dull landscape.
The broad bar of sunlight
peaks through the many shops and tents
in the market.
This morning glory meets the people
and clears the dark crevices of yesterday.

A man, ruddy and handsome,
stands idle in the street market
watching bustling crowds haggle,
as vendors shout like sirens.

The smell of decomposed fish
assaults his nostrils
while the coaxing smell
of curry leaves and spices,
of cheese and cream
visit his face.

Suddenly,
snatches of cold air
coil around him
bringing a lingering
sweet smell of jasmine
that becomes a shot of adrenaline
to his heart.

He pushes past
the busy hives of strangers
and their bubble of white noise;
their blurring conversations.
Crusading to seek out the origin
of such sublimity
becomes his only purpose.

The scent of jasmine begins to fade
as blood hums in his veins.
Determination and frustration
take over.
Then,
through an opening of the crowd,
her smile is revealed.

The man speaks
as the crowd slowly dissolves,
exposing the one with a tender spell.
“That one, harboring a dream
deep behind the windows of her soul.
Her eyes hold a serenity and gentleness
that makes me a victim to her gaze!
Long and fluid black hair
lay gently over her shoulder bones,
kissing her soft skin.
The undeniable symmetry
to her creamy face
holds me captive.”

A rare foreign beauty
permits a grace unexplained.
A silent euphoric sensation
courses through the man’s body
as she walks towards him.
He quivers at the idea
of her existence
trembling with exquisite pains.

She raises her hand
towards his cheek.
The flare of desire
kindles further within the man.
Wicked thoughts spark.
Deeper they get, stroking
the man’s fire,
lighting him up.

But before him, the woman’s face begins
to change.
Her eyes sink to her cheeks,
liquefying.
Her mouth no longer holds a smile
as it dissolves.  
Her nose becomes nothing as it slips
down the ***** of her face.
Soon,
a beautiful countenance
churns into a melted portrait of
once beautiful artwork.
Pieces of her drip onto the floor
as the rest of her body follows suit.

The world around the man begins to melt away.

The man abruptly awakens,
finding himself in his bed.
Silk sheets cover his torso,
sweat trickles from his brow,
down his cheek.
His hands meet
to cover his face.
Sighing, he says,
“I dreamed a dream of hope,
but now I wake
beyond the comfort,
subjected to a soul
tattered and torn.
Now still,
a broken-winged bird
attempting to fly.

A barren field
frozen with snow
waiting for sunlight.
Just a wandering soul
searching for my body,
searching to be complete.
When will my journey end?”

A rich velvet blanket of black
swallows up the day,
draining the colors
as the star speckled darkness
marches forward.

Uneven rounded stones
sit on the soil
of those long forgotten.
Beloved Father, Loving Son,
I read, as I walk past them.
However, unimportant to me
are those carcasses in their graves.

But there,
under that great Yew tree,
her grey granite testimony
with shallow letters
and shallow dates.  
I ready a rose
from my pocket.

I remembered her eyes
that glowed with rings of gold.
They were an old and vintage wine
that made me lose my mind.
Fingers as gentle as the summer breeze
that caressed my face,
playing my heart as a piano.
Her words pulled my puppet strings,
bending me at her whim.
Silken arms that threaded around my body,
kisses that pulled tight,
tight until the silk was taut.

Now she lay
beneath my feet
for me to be,
a dark cloud wandering lonely.  
The reaper’s scythe
made a sound of steel
on stone.
He came for her,
my blushing bride,
he came to make me alone.
I was dead already,
knowing that our love
would finally turn
into a soft noose around my neck.

Each night I visit her
to say hello,
but each night I wish for the Reaper
to take me too.

You stretched forth the starry host like
a curtain over the many skies,
The work of Your fingers
formed the watery depths.

The fruit of your works gave food to the lands
beneath Your feet. I watch as you tread on
the waves of the sea and its many sands. .

I find myself overwhelmed,
seeking rest and peace in barren places.
My soul longs for you like a thirsty
land longing for the rain.

Lend your words to my ears
so I can hear Your love song,
and rest to Your romantic tune.
Romance me lover of my soul!

Create in me a tune that would
never end to help dance an eternal
dance for you. I will make music for you,
I will sing a new song!

Your words framed my world,
so this will be a deeper romance!
Take captive my every thought
to the obedience of your Spirit.  

By Your touch, it stirs a heartfelt
bliss within me to make me whole.
Mark me with destiny and
purpose me with your strength.

Search me and know my heart;
know my anxieties.
See that there is no wicked way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Looking up, I can see the old moon
In the arms of the new one.

Here I stand, at the edge of my demise
Overlooking the city on this building,
To gaze at how the bustle of this metropolis
Begs for release.
I will be the first.
I stand on the edge of my demise,
Its crowds of people faltering between
Fate and struggle,
This city of revolution
Where blood has been spilled on its streets.
I overlook the hustling crowds and see,
Down below,
               The swinging lifestyles,
               Thieves and soothsayers on every corner,
               Talebearers and backstabbers along the sidewalks.
Standing at the edge of my demise,
I long for wings to fly away
Like a dove, harmless and at rest I would be.

Atop this elevated place,
The light of early morning shines along
These towers of terror.

As I lift my foot to step off the edge,
I notice a puddle next to me.
Staring into this small basin of identity,
It reveals what I have missed–––
I remember what I have missed in me.
My face is unlike the rest of those
Who populate this hustling city.

Within this pearl-white room I sit,
Confined by walls of *******.  
Through the white noise of this nightmare,
No one can hear my silent screams.  

On the ground lay a small blade,
I pick it up, gander at it in its splendor
And shimmering steel.
Out of desperation,
I scratch jagged letters into my skin.
Words that signify my desolation:

H E L P M E

Tucked away, separated from
The Architect of Light,
I now **** from the breast of Darkness.
In my quietest moments I wonder,
Where is the Sun?
Where is the Light?
Have they left me too?

Pointing I say, “Over there! My reflection
Meditating on the opposite wall.”
Walking to it, the silver glass begins to laugh
As it collects my thoughts
Knowing my cry of wants.

Now in a world of wells that
I cannot escape,
I scratch and pound at the door
To make a sound.

My final embrace,
Are my silent screams that demand a response.

A lovely woman comes suddenly in sight;
Her lively eyes, full and black, cheeks
Brown and bright like the day; a tunic of red,
And a pure countenance that made him obey.
She speaks in gentle tones, in words like sweet honey,
From a mouth smoother than oil.

She sat down next to him, legs stretched out in sight,
Eyes agape to the wall opposite of them.
She pretends not to notice the man.
She orders a drink, “Jack and Coke, Double-Tall please.”

Amazed by her beauty, “What is your name?” He asks.
“Where have you come from?”

Like smooth butter, she speaks, “Lie with me,
And you will know the secrets of my heart.”
With soft enticing speech, her words became like
Drawn swords.
She made him forget his loneliness.
With Pleasures only to let borrow, he forgets
His sadness, his sorrow.

Her lips were full, soft and wet,
Pressed against the man, sparking
Wicked thoughts as they went.
Deeper it gets, stroking
The man’s fire, lighting him up,
With much intense desire.

She was a lion hidden in tall grass,
Ready and waiting.

Like a moth to a flame,
He did not know that she would cost him his life.

Cockroaches in striped pajamas
stained by the scent of snow-melted blood
under a compassionate moon.
No reflection to admire
other than the eyes of a thousand
miserable and sordid puppets
with shaven heads and wooden clogged shoes.

God and their souls
murdered by a vile evolution,
crucibles of Jewish remains.
Rabbis and priests,
scholars and the poor:
moving targets with stars on their sleeves.

Naked souls waited,
listening to the gods of old Germany.
“Zieh dich aus! (Take off your clothes!)”
They shouted, pushing
them further into the chamber.
The doors
closed shut behind them.
A deathly fog clouded
among them,
putting them to drown
under a thick green darkness.
Agonized voices
shredded apart
as their nails clawed
at the concrete walls.
Women and children held each other tight,
whispering Kaddish,
hoping and praying.

Twenty minutes
of shouting and stumbling,
Twenty minutes
of spluttering and gargling.
The little ones witness the eyes
of their guardians writhe and turn white,
as their bodies jolted
as their lives were stolen.

The gods finally entered
to clear the room,
to pile the dead onto the carts,
to visit the crematorium.
To finally shovel the mounds of
striped clothing,
to recycle and burn the rest.

But this end comes
as a sweet release
as their ashes
were sent through the chimneys
and into the air
to rest in their graves.