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i wait for you on the altar
drenched in jasmine
stained fingertips coloured with incense

your ritual will
fill me clean me make me whole
in the flickering candlelight the moon is hung invisible
there are no stars to guide me

the angels of a religion yet to be written will say
do not be afraid
we love in a time now lost

somewhere, your altar lies broken in the seabed,
where the sands whisper our names
and when all is dead, the earth will keep her secrets hidden.

i have waited my entire life for you
and i would wait a thousand more
if our blood is born of stardust,
you and i must have shone as one before the fall

she stands like GOD at the first horizon
when beauty ran unpolluted,
stood screaming I AM UN-IN-KNOW-AB-LE

pull the veins from my body and there is her portrait
rip the beat from my heart and there is her name
steal the air from my lungs and there is her kiss

my throat is torn ragged with words i will never say aloud
we are the star drawn lovers only known by the sea
but i will find you again.

my love, i will wait on the bridge where all worlds collide,
one thousand lifetimes to go.
Orpheus crawled from the ground upon his hands and knees,
His days he faced in bitterness without Eurydice,
He wiped the bloodstains from his face, coughed up gravedirt and leaves,
And tore the music from his throat, resigned to silent be.

Surrendered to the quiet, he deprived the world of song,
Without her harmony, he thought, the melody was wrong,
Perverted echoes tried to sing but they were never strong.
When silent in a violent world, where then could he belong?

Returned then to their wedding bed, alone he lay and wept.
Moonlit air betwixt his wretched, ragged sobbing crept.
His weary lungs began to slow, and at birdsong he slept,
Dreaming, saw a horde of women, manic and godswept.

Her melancholy wails resonated throughout Hell.
Sat upon his throne there reigned the King that knew them well.
Under the crooked back of grief the riot could be quelled,
For dangerous is Orpheus and his melodic spell.

The maenads came for him as prophesied within his dream,
Tore his body limb from limb, a cloak ripped at its seam,
A mad and Bacchic frenzy blinded the infernal team,
From witnessing his dying smile, as if at last, redeemed

Two lovers’ outstretched hands reach now across the murky water,
Drowning out the souls who shout in mourning for their slaughter.
The bridge of years they passed apart was, in an instant, broken,
They did not trust themselves to sing, so ‘I love you’ was spoken.
the first poem i actually wrote with a set metre, so i  already know it's not great lol
Moon marked and touched by sun
my magic is unwritten
but when the sea turns back
it will leave my shape behind.
I seek no favor
untouched by blood
unrelenting as the curse of love
permanent as my errors
or my pride
I do not mix
love with pity
nor hate with scorn
and if you would know me
where the restless oceans pound.

I do not dwell
within my birth nor my divinities
who am ageless and half-grown
and still seeking
my sisters
witches in Dahomey
wear me inside their coiled cloths
as our mother did

I have been woman
for a long time
beware my smile
I am treacherous with old magic
and the noon's new fury
with all your wide futures
I am
and not white.
Out of my flesh that hungers
and my mouth that knows
comes the shape I am seeking
for reason.
The curve of your waiting body
fits my waiting hand
your ******* warm as sunlight
your lips quick as young birds
between your thighs the sweet
sharp taste of limes.

Thus I hold you
frank in my heart's eye
in my skin's knowing
as my fingers conceive your flesh
I feel your stomach
moving against me.

Before the moon wanes again
we shall come together.

And I would be the moon
spoken over your beckoning flesh
breaking against reservations
beaching thought
my hands at your high tide
over and under inside you
and the passing of hungers
attended, forgotten.

Darkly risen
the moon speaks
my eyes
judging your roundness
true friends trust and love indeed
while lovers think too much and bleed
their love ends in a graceless Hell
spoiled by thinking none too well
Fooling around with the idea that love ends when it begins to be governed by the head, rather than the heart, I wrote this corny little poem.  I'm not sure that I like it, but I guess I do.
at present I am present on a small isle,
which is so green genteel
to the eyes and the ayes,
you might include it
among yet unmastered possibilities,
living here forever.

indeed, the crescent beach so welcoming that
francais et l'anglais des anglaise is spoken here,
but actuality
has a way of intruding,
Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Bleu,
saying I know you,
even if it doesn’t

this breeze bearing load suggests your name
as a candidate for future, honours, an MBE,
a practiced curtsy for a queen,
whatever is he babbling about?

why I am presenting an outline for a screenplay that
will make you a little rich and somewhat fameuse
so you buy a house on the water,
party all night,
write in the miracle wonder of the late afternoon
on a summery isle,
modestly hungover


where is this isle so sheltered,
where nooks are set aside for poets and drunks
to pub crawl, to stand on tables and Irish sing of
those things that poets endlessly babble?

so add :

come here and let us listen to all your possibilities
and cross just this one,
your presence here,
off the list
I think, I say, I loved you before -
yes. Picture it: these different
bodies, tangled under different
sheets, you & these quiet moments

I think it started even before
that - right from the moment
you took breath & sobbed.
Don't you see, baby, you were born

Picture us in the light:
glory haloed, something other
than blood or water, violent
mouths & all teeth, gnawing
right to the bone.

Let me. I'm going to make this as
terrible as I know how.

I mould & ruin you with
these hands, I call you baby,
darling, mine, mine, mine;
I make you a god and nothing

Show me again, my god - there is no
prayer for the way you shudder. Hold on,
wait for me,

I'm going to make you see stars, baby doll,
you're not going to wanna miss
Yeah idk either man this kind of creeps me out & i'm the one who wrote it.
Like Orpheus, ****** of lyric and word
I pray my song will not meet thy sleeping ears
But pour through orifice meant for only one,
​My veil be lifted!

Sweet and swift, words of thy present god,
Plead mine eyes set forth without jest,
For backward glance should destroy my love
​If only for my spirit,

Eternal in thy presence but still without,
Eternal in flames from whence thine eyes yet slept
But woken now for my loves melody to take,
​Not the hand of Hades!

Bound is my chain of yearning to which only thee holds the reins,
Thy past with dear Aphrodite becomes my right.
To know where thine love lies true, thou shalt not sway from my lead;
​I turn only for my love!

Where doth thine eyes wander, should mine stray not from thee?
Where hath thine eyes gone before thy saving grace?
This lyre charmed the wrath of death for mine prize,
​Thy love and thy word

With thou in step to this ascent toward worldly pleasure,
Thy love only known without falter.
Mine trust of thine Hades falls as feathers from a dove,
​Thy purity is false

And thus, I must turn to know thine ways,
Praying for the lies of Hades, if only for my spirit,
I turn to face thine histories and met with thine ashes
​My trust forsaken!
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