She's an imp of a troublemaker fairy
they call her Heather Featherwand
she lives midst ancient ruins
    'pon Saturn's ringlets
          of ethereal ice & dust
you might get a peek at her
  neath a summertide night's dream,
she wears lavender and tangerine
  to blend in with the blazing cosmos,
 her pale peachy butterfly wings
    make sounds like katydids
     singing in the treetops and
         cicadas come to life at night
  further adding to her mysterious flight,
she took off one day, they say
    with the man in the moon
  and they've been starstruck ever after

I am not my demons
They are made entirely of me.

They are the cruelties I've suffered,
Presenting themselves like tornados through small towns.

Towns that don't seem like much at a passing glance,
But who's residents never doubt
The beauty and potential it holds
If only you stay long enough to notice it.

But how can anyone see the beauty in towns
That are forever being brought to ruins.
At the mercy of something as destructive
And unpredictable
As a **** tornado?

Over the wild blue sea
across a world of turmoil

Through deep forests
and wild skies

Lies a place
ancient and mighty

High towers look gloomly down over iron gates and broken walls.

This was once a place of strength,
a fortress of might
a stronghold against the darkness.

But time has played Its role
rusting the polished metal
rotting away at the foundations.

Its time has already come and gone
The fortress is not but a heap of ruin
a long gone shadow in the distant past.

Over magnificent peaks
rushing rivers and sprawling cities

Through tempest
storm and shroud
Does it lie

Slumbering silently
in broken ruins.

I found this ruin only by chance,
Its hypnotic Ivy, leaves me in a trance,
Hiding the features with its natural lace,
Supporting the wall, as they embrace,

The child inside me, can't help but explore,
Ascending the steps, to the withered old door,
Opening it slowly, interrupting the calm,
Disturbing the peace, like a morning alarm,

Birds fleeting, like the thoughts in my mind,
In awe of it's beauty, I left my troubles behind.
The sun breaking through, the absent gable,
Highlighting a chair, missing its table.

I come to rest in that old wooden chair,
I look up, in the suns aura I stare,
The heavens open as my spirit glides,
Out from my body as I breathe through the sky.

I am drawn to the roadside of an old country lane,
A car hugging a tree, smoke following flame,
A camera recording, from a lifeless grip,
Capturing the tragedy of a summers road trip,

Besides a body, is his newly wed bride,
Her breathing shallow, she looks in his eyes,
Calling his name, for the very last time,
Her spirit leaves, as she is drawn to mine,

Our spirits embrace as we ascend for sky,
As the heavens await the groom....
..and his beautiful bride.

Two lovers meet
One day, in secrecy

Hearts warm as a pillow
of makhmal

The lover says to his love
“You are a pearl buried in the
ruins of the world
People come and go
they watch
But they cannot smell the kastoori
They laugh, eat, and joke with you
But they don’t see your heart”

The mirror slips from her hand
It falls down
She cries and with shivering hand
She says
Tear apart the wall
You’ll not need any windows anymore



makhmal: velvety leaves
kastoori: musk

How can one pick up the seams
of a long forgotten past?
How can restoration ever begin
when the heart and soul
has departed from the rest?

Falling leaves
and dying trees,
shattered glass
resounding screams.

I open my eyes and see a city of gray
a collection of broken people.
The product of a broken past.

I look upon the waste that lies before me
I view the rubble with despair.
This was once a golden dynasty,
a land of abundance,
a city of white.

Now decayed,
fallen into rot and ruin.
Distraught and dying
of intellectual thirst.
The haunted look I see on the faces
the frail cry echoing in the night,
the silent torment
the unheard agony.

Children lie in the street
mothers weep.
Powerful men
keep their power to themselves
They hoard and keep
they watch as their city falls
they gaze on upon the gray.

Oblivious to the torment
untouched by the tears
the heartache and the hurt.

Mountains of ruin
rivers of blood
oceans of tears
growing like a mighty flood.

The dying and the sick,
the weak and the poor,
the famous and the rich,
those wicked lords.

I see them all,
all alike,
I open my eyes and see them.

Somehow, someway
they are the same.
Behind the hollowed eyes
and the overstuffed bellies
the thick fur coats
and the naked flesh.


They are so alike
so similar
these creatures.
They are as one being
one soul,
one flesh.

Shivers coursing
through my veins,
slivers of fear
falling like rain.

Tired and sore
wretched and poor,
weak and frail
I open my minds door.

I enter into a land
A land where no hurt,
nor wrong can ever touch

A place where what is,
is really not,
and what was thought to be remembered
is truly forgot.

I walk through the streets
with new eyes
And gaze upon the ruins
and all their lies.

How things,
then seem so changed
how things that were,
really are not.

The rich were truly poor.
Their souls filthy
***** and wretched,
their hearts blackened
broken and ruined.

Yet those the poor,
and the wretched.
The ones that I had so surely thought
were worthless.
Were truly lords
and conquers

For they controlled their destiny
they governed their hearts.
Kept the undying
innocent and free of all wrong.

And now with this new found vision
A hope arose inside of me

For I then saw
what there truly was to be seen,
a land beyond the physical
a nominal realm.

Wretched and distraught
broken and forgot,
they are beautiful
these ruins.
They are the glorious ruins
of a long lost past.

Through the eye of the father
by the grace of love.
The miracle of salvation
the glory of these shattered ruins is revealed.

Ruins.
Somewhat like a fallen temple, sheets thrown across carelessly and books scattering the floor.
Clutter a sign of genius, as you inhale your cigarette slowly killing your aching soul, hoping to maybe absorb some of the lit flame.
Traces of nights long and tiresome, coffee stains on ink splattered pages, blankets rustled from lovers left without a second word.
Empty, like the coffee *** that you refuse to clean more than once a week.
Bits and pieces of memories ****** down a pipe from the white wine that left your system this morning.
You look so beautiful when you sleep.
Years taken off with wrinkles and fine lines missing, full pink lips that explain everything i've ever needed to hear.
Candle wax left upon tables from hot baths that resulted in ***** of words that were better left unsaid.
Come closer.
Close enough that we are mingling carbon dioxide and oxygen, absorbing every ounce of life.
Love, soaking through my blood like the iron that is running through my thin veins.
Tied together with twisted heart strings, branched and torn, split and tried.
Ruins.

Remnants of a cataclysm,

Drift over my feet.

I stand paralyzed,

Gazing upon the ruins.

Slow thoughts,

Followed by slow emotions,

Settle down.

I shift my position.

Helplessly breathing,

With nothing left to grasp.