Lauren Ashley: Favorites

Mar 2011 Lauren Ashley

Sara L Russell

The ripening berries
Summer's last blaze
when her breath is of jasmine
and phlox is her sigh
Let me dream then,
of summer
and float through the haze
peaceful breath
bed of poppies
ceiling of blue sky

Let me float
like a feather
in the arms
of the breeze
Let me drift
like a leaf
on a tide, upstream
with the murmur of water
the soft hum of bees
in a garden
in peace
in sleep
in a dream

Send me love's angels
to watch at my bed
golden of voice
and silver of wing;
two at the far corners
two at my head
with my dreams
all of heaven
when softly
they sing

Send me a light
that can never grow dim
love, like a candle
to lighten my heart
empty my mind
of each worry and whim
and the ghosts
of nights demons
that tear me apart

Till I float
like a feather
in the arms
of the breeze
and drift
like a leaf
on a tide, upstream
love make me wise
through life's cruelties
sleep dry my eyes
make me still
let me dream.

A bedtime litany of self-healing. Written at a time when I used to suffer from sleep-paralysis nightmares.

Mar 2011 Lauren Ashley

Divisions

Mar 2011 Lauren Ashley

Joseph Martinez

Divisions

Can I reach you now?

from the place where no words echo
outside those four dark walls where all is flux & silent

or in the back of the car
where, out of my mind, I saw you
through my madness I grasped you standing in the shifting light
your face rearranged and opaque
haloed with a pale pure glow like thorned gold

Are you there and living?

even as the threat of distant separation
closes the gates and rends your heart
collapsing narrow vessels till the pulse of life has vanished
& nothing to revive that aching howl you felt
screaming into this new dream - which seemed more real than before

cold & naked as the pure, trickling rationality
begged you to move
staggering off toward the desolate company of warm arms/loving glances

mountains of your newborn confusion
decomposed & spread out on the fields
under the sun
awaiting the face of God
as the world turned to look upon invisible eyes
watching

Mar 2011 Lauren Ashley

the pounding of the undeniable

Mar 2011 Lauren Ashley

midnight prague

the pounding of the undeniable

my heart claws on the inside of my chest. there is no escaping loves drum.
that rhythmic pattern that picks up. like the small things in nature in the morning. the undeniable laughter of the birds. the life coming after 9 months.
the purging after a bottle of whiskey.

I sit alone in my room. my hands are sweaty. I panic.
why is it against me and so out of my hands to deny you.
I stare at my dresses my womanly things that mean nothing.
I walk outside and stare at the immense blue in the sky. how it consumes me.
I watch the clouds sway. changing. growing. disappearing...
why does everything make sense all of the sudden. why do I feel lonelier
than I have ever felt in my entire being. time has never seeped through me
so slowly, every turmoil minute has placed itself like a beast upon
my forehead. Every smile I see has made me grow emptier inside.

my tears mean nothing anymore. meaningless they are compared to the grief
that screams inside of my gut. it is seen on my face. there is no hiding it anymore.
I can solve every problem. unlock every door. touch every star.
all of it will mean nothing. Maybe I will find it inside of me to walk away
but this time tell you to come

Maybe I will finally accept

there is no escaping loves drum

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Facade

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Kal Kirk

Facade

You'll never ever see,
The tears that I shed,
So many nights,
When I'm alone in my bed.

You never seem to notice,
The scars almost healed,
They are my secret,
From you I must shield.

My thoughts are deeply hidden,
Only for me,
And I hope you'll never realize,
That I'm a little crazy.

So I'll pretend to be happy,
I'll put on a facade,
Make it all seem okay,
Just smile and nod.

I just want you to be happy...

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

2:27 AM.

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Emma

2:27 AM.

Too many eyes are looking at the painting of
yesterday me and can't even
acknowledge me anymore and so
I learned to hide behind it
and walk around with it hanging over
my face
and it's nice not seeing anyway.

Too many souls are buried under the landfill
where a city once stood
where a tree once grew from
tears of creatures and people
and where children laughed a long
long time ago
forgotten under a
rotten smell

Even love is useless if we all refuse to use it.
does that mean we don't deserve to feel ?
No one wants to think about karma and
a kindness that we lack and the depths
of the twisted psychology of greed
taking over instead of basic need.

Too many lives are wasted,
too many stories copied and pasted
and bodies walking without brains
in a dark and menacing place
that leaves no trace of the
hearts left beating in the rains.

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Untitled

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Emma

Untitled

She realizes at some point she’s in dream and wakes up
Clenching her stomach, blurring her eyes
Covering her bruised body with shadow limbs
Silently coughing up through self-inflicted scars
Why is it so cold
Harsh sunlight with shivers in between rays
Green eyes like moonlight through prison bars
Leaden shadow limbs scrape the floor
Chalk writing in another language
Slipping on frozen marble, so cold,
So cold

Mice in her ears running, dead, multiplying
Whispers of her shame
Splatter paint on a nameless grave where
Bugs morph from the stone
Nightmares in the daytime between rays of moonlight,
So cold

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Poem 2: The Edge Of This

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

Phil Stewart

Poem 2: The Edge Of This

Chance dealt me a cold dark kiss
Planted it straight and long
I tasted nothing, except the abyss
Changing everything to wrong

So few people, church cold as metal
The things I had are gone
Aching tears, wilting petals
The things we should have done

Take away this photograph
It’s her hand I need to hold
No words to meet this epitaph
My heart once bought, now sold

The picture of my life thing
One that’s trodden down so small
Faltering now, without a wing
No soul in the world to call

On the edge of this, on the edge of me
Tilting, fraying, blowing, waving…

Blue stare, rapid, World ascending
In to the dizzy skies
Sick of giving, drained of lending
Morality never buys

Burning like a used up bullet
Melting mass in my slip stream
I couldn’t push, I had to pull it
Parachute this thin esteem

Clutching the empty space
Oxygen chilling veins
Miles by the second, sheer
Faster than it rains

My days blew out like a second sun
Peace came rushing with my last
Silence cried from my empty lungs
My future joined my past

Crushed up, flat, and in the dust
There’s not a second left
No music, flowers or a fuss
A stranger stood and wept

Phil Stewart 2011: Fictional

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

misconceived guidance

Feb 2011 Lauren Ashley

midnight prague

misconceived guidance

I hold my pots and pans
my spices and fruits
lay in the kitchen like a dead spirit
hold up my most prized dish
and concur your presence with my
deep curve and my curious woman
is that what I was made for
I ask you silently with desperate eyes

hearing my mothers whispers
be tidy and clean, and gentle in your walk
you are girl they say
you are a girl
and one day if done right
you shall grow up to flourish into an endless woman
a woman of stature and grace

but I cried when I was young and I was told that it was not okay
and here I am left to blame for the fact that my skin is not smooth
It is not that I have scars everywhere
I myself am a wound
I myself am a scar

keeps your hands closed, fingers beautifully hidden beneath
your delicate pale palms
and some day my child they said
the right person will hold them
but my hands have ran over many shades of skin
I have touched much pain
my hands
my hands
touched life
and we all know where those places can be
bright and glorious
dark and terrifying
and sometimes I believe them
maybe if I would have hid my hands
maybe if I would have kept that noble innocence
I would have lived longer
perhaps had the right person hold them

my mother told me, my beautiful daughter
still young and naive
pure and childlike
when you walk bow that gentle neck of yours
don't let your newborn eyes become harshly polluted
I remember those words now when I cry
and these tears are not pure, they are not salty and white
but drops of debris and dirt
as bitter as gall

keep your body a temple sacred and known only to you
the deepest curiosity lies in the mystery engraved in the
comely body of a woman who keeps herself a mystery
standing beautiful like a blue rose between red ones
in solitude
gracefully content
and me, now
If I was a flower would be immersed in a euphoria of colors
drenched in the mixing of my body with others
scared by their skin
loved by their hands
and possessed in touch by touch

where do I go
mother, how do I ease myself of these monstrosities
how do I learn how to hold myself again without feeling guilty