Which sublime symphony,
makes me fully forget
I am a limited being
rooted on the earth.
The booming wind's
the running water's?
or the serenade that cascades
as the wink of a million stars
filling the limitless skies?
which blue evokes,
the hue of my inner world,
the sky's or the sea's,
perhaps the turquoise of her eyes?

On the meadow green,
the grass under my feet,
is resilient, never lies low,
and the sun at dusk
showers gold dust over it.

Now, I feel a lightness, no word can tell,
I am ebullient, feels omnipotent,
on newly acquired wings, I hover up,
the evening silver star, waking up,
at the far corner of the sky
extends her hands
to invite me to her boudoir.

On a hurricane it came.
Knocked down the old wooden fence.
Melted it.
Was a dark night.

The night the sky cried a torrent.
Ripped landfill inside out.
******* thrown across the land.
Compliments of bad weather's hand.
Battered fish deep in the pond.
Was not a millpond placid.

The landscape melted.
Courtesy.
Reigning acid.
The queen of the stormy skies!


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

The city was turning
Into a mirror.
You were trying to move as little as possible
Fearing variations more than anything.
The essential — now —
Consisted in not disturbing.
The cold was eating your legs, your cheeks
You were calm and wanted to go away
What was left to hold you back?
Your heart was burning and nightmares were
Surrounding your hair.
You were looking down, looking
For your own ankles
You were paying attention to the echoes,
Searching for
Someone who would grab your arm
You only wanted to hear a no
— and it was not coming.
You were hoping for some
It’s not true
— and it was not coming.
The dart had been shot
Punctual and similar to bees
Poison
It was getting you sick
You were struggling to survive
While hoping, however, to die of it.
It would have never killed you.
The smell of flowers was vanishing,
The city had turned into a mirror.
Now you could only cover your eyes.

sailing on the blue-sea
sailing unknown-beauty..


1.
the seas laugh in raucous-hacks
as the waves cough up the corpses of my dreams
at my feet, they come in from the swell of tides
seeming no more than
                    spongy sea-**** with sun-skin points
                    bloated fish who didn't make it
                    swollen seals with child

and the blue-boy on the whale's back
confident-smiles draped upon his demeanour
               like a well-worn cloak of old-comfort
   soft and velvety secrets hide inside the folds
of his true-age and pure-soul

nobody would believe
             how many trips he had to make
to get to this shore
             how many deaths he had to live through
to understand the purpose
             how many tears he saw shedding
of nature's total-patience
             how many of so much..


2.
on the back of a whale
he traverses the width of seas
                      the span of lands
                      the points of stars
                      the truth of man
and he grieves the piteous-souls whose backs break
so hard
on the interminable-wheel of penitence
turning and grinding
                      grinding
                      gri­nding..
always bent upon that gauntlet-grind
if they but knew how futile the turn..
carrying loads of mercy and goodness
only to see it seep out wounds ere journey's end


3.
cruel deified-laughter exists not
at man's readiness to crucify hope
with such four-square certainty
that redemption lies in suffering..

oh no..


4.
faint sounds of laughter on a broad-coast
whose sands give way to shy-dossiers
of nature's confidence
in the evening sun
secrets that I neglected to see.. first time round
have I failed myself.. ?
(but not again)

when awareness taps one on the shoulder,
is it not utter-folly to turn one's back on resplendence
that all the leaves and seas are willing to share?



true-beauty lies in covert-blossoms
and opened-eyes
and saying.. yes
when the sun-breeze
dawns*





S T - sunnyday, 24 Nov 2013

No, you're wrong.

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

Particularly at lunch
in a laughing restaurant

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

And they are moved
by their own beauty

And they shed tears for it
in the back of the taxi home

The whites of your eyes were yellow
Yellow like old parchment
The heavy dark bags beneath them made you old
The disgust was plain
And your words like *****
The first tears spilled across my lips
And I ran, not looking back
In my infinite sadness I flourished
The dark whispering deadly soft words in my ears
And so I never forgot

I created a ray to save the world.
We had come too far,
had lost ourselves, it seemed to me
and we were taking the Earth along with us
into the abyss.

Too much knowledge: too much thought.
We needed to go back.
And so I created the Great Devolver Ray
and stood, trembling, by the trigger.

This would return us
to our basest animal selves.
Would tune us perfectly into Nature,
re-thread us into the fabric of Creation
destroy the wall between Natural and Unnatural.

Pure uncorrupted survival: nothing more.

And so I stood, on the brink,
unsure as all great revolutionaries must be,
put my hand in place,
and pushed.

And the ray burst forth
and we were transformed
into the pure ******* creatures that Life demanded.

And absolutely nothing changed
at all.