I banished my muse
to mute-happy land
erased what I felt
and wrote what I knew
an epic that would have compelled you
to ****** my hair and undress
my identity girdled in crisis
something that would have unfurled
the fist of your heart
and pumped it with pulse
I wrote what would make you speak
But how many epics are there in our world
exiled in drawers and attics
versed in the ominous dust of the right time
maybe unearthed past the prime of their worth
if only to lure the lucre of royalty
to the unearther
With destinies lost in each others' translation
loneliness penetrates me like a ****** needle
for you'll never read
the epic I wrote for you

02 21 11

~

5:37 am

5:37 am…the morning is silent,
eerily so that I can hear nothing
louder than I ever have before
Not a bird sings as the sun still sleeps
outside of this four walled solitude
Slowly drinking a cup of coffee,
wondering why I even exist

5:42 am…staring into the dark spaces
surrounding my mind like elastic memories
While I write these words
of absolutely no reason,
as if they will heal somehow, take the pain
scatter it upon horizons
that no longer have meaning

5:46 am…somehow I enjoy this silence
Seeing my shadow below,
head in hands on the surface of my desk,
painting charcoal pictures of loneliness,
listening to key strokes breaking the quiet,
hoping this faux ink erases the past,
yet I believe nothing can…5:51 am

Life let me go
There's nothing to hold onto
Nothing
Cut my string
   give the rest to someone who deserves it
End my life line Life
Life, friend, you're holding onto nothing, just like someone who holds onto the love that is no longer there
If there's nothing to hang onto you're falling
Life let me go
There's nothing, nothing good what's so ever by holding on to me
But if there is I don't know it
So tell me
Tell me if there is
I know there's nothing
No one wants to know my story
My story is not worth your two cents

*Life loves everyone and when it's time death falls in love with you too. And life may miss you while death has given you his kisses, but after a while, you may fade away from life's memory.

i'm curled up in your blanket
i'll never leave this spot
and i'm still wearing your favorite sweater
i'll never take it off
until i can see you again
and kiss all of your wounds
and see your precious face
listen to your heart warming laugh
and cry in your arms until my tears run dry
one day you and i
can watch from the window
our coffee drips becoming raindrops
in a foggy city of your dreams
i love you and all of your ripped seams
i love you endlessly

Iris peels back
three generous petals,
ample in exposure,
a gravitationally drawn
dress, *******,
with drops and folds, a downward-
opening, bares elegant anatomy,
stripped from the waist
of a lighter three petals, lifting,
inside, reflective,
reaching skywards, and naked
ribbed with natural frill,
raw with the colours of flower flesh
white tiger stripes
and purple veins,
curling towards the ground like tears
and lifting up like laughter,
with centered yellow streaks
that lead into the heart,
where another tri-petal formation
folds in on itself,
as if to contain some sacred secret
that is gently holding at her *****

    a trinity
    within a trinity
    within a trinity
    of beauty

her naked convolutions coil into
just the right amount of earthly space,
so perfectly held there in the air
with poised and dancing stillness,
the perfect allure
of a delicate goddess,
rooted in the ground
but living also
inside the I,
elevated by the gaze
into limitless imaginal expanse,
no mere flower, in relation
      
                she is
                an entrance
                into love

The light is flickering, and then it is gone.
The world is plunged into shadow,
Like a wave,
Washing over an already finished canvas.

I tremble as an infantile stranger,
Passes me a weak cup of tea,
Made just the way I like it, they say.

Words are uttered in a foreign tongue,
Faces are distorted.
Thoughts are hazy,
and memory a blur.

I am a shadow of my former self.
Blind in the darkness. Unseeing.  
Searching alone,
Swallowed by the deafening buzz of foreign noise.

The light is flickering, and then it is on,
The world is bright and I am safe,
I smile as my granddaughter passes me my tea,
Made just the way I like it.

Love is what drives me towards the light,
When I lie in bed and think at night.
Although I drift away for a while,
I am always there.
Remember child.