when you light a match
watch the flame
burn it black
wisps of smoke
reach your fingers
it's warm
it's exciting
then you put it out
it's still warm
part of it
permanently black
vulnerable
so you let it
crumble

i'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere




Once I lit a match. I wanted to watch the fire. I watched the fire burn the wood and turn it to ash. It was turning black. I saw wisps of smoke curling between my fingers, as the flames got nearer. I could feel the heat. Before I got burnt, I blew out the fire. And the flame was gone, but that black wood, that ash, still remained.
That’s when I had a thought. Maybe that’s what happens when you decide to be bad. When you choose to be evil instead of good. When you give up doing good for doing bad.
Maybe when you make that choice, a fire ignites in you. A fire so bright, you can’t see anything else. But it’s like bliss. Blinding bliss. And you let that fire burn when you continue to be bad. It makes you want to do worse. Because it feels right. It feels like you can finally be seen. But that fire, that flame, it’s burning you, to your core. It turns everything black.
Eventually, you extinguish the fire. You don’t want it anymore. But you don’t know that it might be too late. Your heart, your soul, your mind. It’s all gone. It’s black. It’s ash. It’s a part of you now, a part you can’t get rid of. It’s still there; it won’t just disappear.

She ran a boarding house in Boston,
But they used her size to terrorize men
And lead them to the lock-holes.
Or was she a lady clad in black ruffles,
Presented to the Queen in 1844?
Perhaps she was a racehorse
Foaled in Harlem and won a prize.
She had peddled drugs and run a gang
In the chaos of Civil War,
Black Mariah escaped from the darkness
Of Edison’s studio to roam the world,
But in it found herself re-imagined.
They named police wagons after her
It’s said, but no one knows the truth.
Did she cross the battle lines again,
To tread on civil rights?
Or swing the batons in Chicago
And fire rifles at Kent State?
She seems to take time out to charm
Gruff-voiced men who sing her praise.
She prowled the streets of Brixton,
In 1983, with truncheons at her side.
Through gas clouds, dragging men to jail.
Black Mariah is with us still,
Helping to create tyrants and traitors,
To stop the mouths of those who defy
She’s an accessory to the killing.

Oh sweet Maria, thou art fair;
from thy feet's sole to thy hair.
Nature flawlessly carved thy frame
like a dame of mythical fame.

Let me to thee my will submit,
whilst our magnetic gazes meet.
Let me a sweet serenade sing,
as I to thee fair roses bring.

you write and write until you take off onto your own orbit to await your birth,
death,
or love
- face your gods,
obey like a blind man & say your prayer:
thank you, God, thank you for being so good to me
and blessing me with a certain degree of forgetfulness & ignorance

Enamorándome de ti
Fue el mejor momento de mi vida
Mejor que cuando nací
Ahora mi alma esta perdida

Eres una suave brisa cálida
¿Quien no te amaria?
Mi vida siempre sera fria
Sin Maria

Estoy aqui ahora
Mi corazón esta roto
Te ves tan increible
A mi lado en esta foto

Mis recuerdos de ti
Arderá brillante
Me enamoré de ti demasiado rápido
Lo siento
|
|
Falling for You
It was the best time of my life
Better than when I was born
Now my soul is lost

You are a gentle warm breeze
Who wouldn't love you?
My life will always be cold
Without Maria

I'm here now
My heart is broken
You look so amazing
Next to me in this photo

My memories of you
Will burn bright
I fell in love with you too fast
I'm sorry

I found myself waiting
for love i already own.
Found myself in every reflection.
No recollection of home.
My heart called my name and this time I recognized.
heavy rains of mother earth
washed away my masks
so i bear no disguise.
ancestors became clearer when i looked inside the mirror
i remember my true beauty
reflecting so pure
i see nothing clearer .
i love myself...
i am love
i am light
i am energy so free and abundant
i am cosmic
i am source
divine creation of masculine and feminine combined
infinite intelligence
wonder and wisdom.
everlasting love, companion to life itself.
"break free, my child"
intuition whispers to me
voice as soft and sweet as sugar cane
no longer a victim of ILLusion and strife
i root myself deep and call back in all my power
so my friend, as you read this, consider it your final hour
what will your bring with you into this new earth?
wake up.
wake up.
wake up.

your mother tongue never needed to distinguish between
house and home

my sister—
your love was as soft
as the morning rain,
our conversations
too innocent not to be beautiful
and when we locked our arms
and pressed our ankles together
to walk through a river of puddles,
the world was right,
our dreams, tranquil and endless

PorcelainTears [Anna-Maria]
November 7, 2020

Liebes-Lied (“Love Song”)
by Rainer Maria Rilke
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How can I withhold my soul so that it doesn’t touch yours?
How can I lift mine gently to higher things, alone?
Oh, I would gladly find something lost in the dark
in that inert space that fails to resonate until you vibrate.
There everything that moves us, draws us together like a bow
enticing two taut strings to sing together with a simultaneous voice.
Whose instrument are we becoming together?
Whose, the hands that excite us?
Ah, sweet song!

Original text:

Liebes-Lied

Wie soll ich meine Seele halten, daß
sie nicht an deine rührt? Wie soll ich sie
hinheben über dich zu andern Dingen?
Ach gerne möcht ich sie bei irgendwas
Verlorenem im Dunkel unterbringen
an einer fremden stillen Stelle, die
nicht weiterschwingt, wenn deine Tiefen schwingen.
Doch alles, was uns anrührt, dich und mich,
nimmt uns zusammen wie ein Bogenstrich,
der aus zwei Saiten eine Stimme zieht.
Auf welches Instrument sind wir gespannt?
Und welcher Geiger hat uns in der Hand?
O süßes Lied.

Keywords/Tags: German, translation, Rainer Maria Rilke, love, song, music, soul, vibrate, vibration, dark, space, darkness, instrument, bow, strings, hands, voice