begin end begin he writes come to party in my room ashtray spilled on sheets mirror smeared clothes scattered everywhere i’m reclining on floor pulling on ***** hair writing lonely-hearts poem i don’t care about your photograph i just want to know will you come to party in my room? i have confidences to share secrets to reveal no one to give my body to i need to feel warmth of another there is food if you are hungry i’ll just watch listen to you will come won’t you? please this is no prank are you there? i just wanted to invite you to party you’re my only guest i need you i sound desperate you want to know how long i’ve been this way kind of let myself go grown used to this room that keeps my secret used to sleeping alone in big double bed i think i shall go take hot bath don’t come another night perhaps i can do it quite well myself thank you you probably would have felt out of place anyway - london 1971

nothing wrong with beating off but i prefer female sometimes pretty thing replies Odys you have a way with words actually he prefers woman all times tends to be too impatient rough handling himself needs woman’s gentler slower adoring touch

i wouldn’t mind wife if she is simply **** in residence leaning against doorway posing between me and kitchen he considers let’s get cruel in cruelty one finally realizes one’s own true self-interest who am i? am i cruel enough to be sick-hearted *******? am i capable of oppression torture? do i honestly desire *** slave? do i believe all hope of becoming normal human is gone? he hears her words i have cuffs crop leg spreader flogger hood paddle cane like swelling bruises on my *** never touch my face arms legs i like to be spit on while you pull hair i like servicing man who takes pleasure in giving brutal intense pain *** on my face **** **** on me i'm looking for white muscular egotistic man who is into sadomasochism i enjoy abuse part just as much as *** part is he lightweight no stomach for collared sadism? He mumbles to himself bottom line i respect love women this existence is killing me ignores his thoughts sings aloud we’re used to being rude to each other used to getting crude with each other come on now pretty thing sit next to me

female fantasy number 1 man’s ******* is like handle on slot machine if woman pulls it right way 3 cherries line up in his eyes ***** jingle ring money shoots out ***-hole female fantasy number 2 science invents way in which more money woman spends shopping more weight she can lose

i imagined you were plateful of pancakes you giggled when i poured syrup on your face i smiled pondering how lovely you would taste we sat for a while gazing into each other’s eyes until you got cold rubbery i didn’t want to eat you anymore

maybe he is not so charming anymore maybe Odysseus has become blunt  difficult he tries to be respectful but sometimes he is excessive self-willed time place names have lost any mearing during lively discussion with pretty thing creativity versus craft he confronts original invention requires destruction surely you realize that? pretty thing replies Odys i didn’t realize you were so dominant you seem so playful puppy-like in daytime i never would have guessed you’re such a chauvinistic ******* he questions chauvinistic ******* what’s that suppose to mean? i don’t know what you’re talking about she answers don’t play dumb Odys i know you’re smart at semiotics he asks semiotics what does that mean? I don’t know the word listen you’re right and i’m wrong i apologize i didn’t mean to get so argumentative he reaches for dictionary on floor next to chair pretty thing crosses legs speaks i’m very careful to use simple words everyone can understand but i’m just sign painter isn’t that right Odys? what would i know? he pleads you’re not making any sense we both use brushes paint similar techniques that’s beside the point i apologize she insists you’re way off the subject Odys he begs you’re right i’m wrong whatever i said made you get so upset please forgive me her voice cold terse i need to go home Odys you scare me you’re way too fanatic

thinks to himself promise her anything but give her the finger just when she’s finally starting to fall for whole scam give her the slip 6 to 12 weeks is average life expectancy for modern romance it’s fast world we’re all expendable can’t hear what you’re saying music is too loud rule number 1 no matter how beautiful she is there’s always someone who’s sick of her rule number 2 why would you even be talking with her if she didn’t have *****? rule number 3 they’re all ******* ******! he tries to recall if Bayli ever behaved like ***** he concludes no never did she become one?

in restless sleep he dreams someone tells him Bayli is working at ******* bar he goes to see her Bayli looks young beautiful wearing thong nothing else many men are pursuing her he excitedly approaches but she seems to only vaguely recognize him she questions do i know you? he answers Bayli it’s me Odys! she answers my name is not Bayli Odys who? where do you know me from?” he pleads Bayli, look at me Bayli smiles hesitantly as she looks around for support points finger towards Odysseus 2 bouncers approach shove him against wall force him outside bouncer barks her name is not Bayli now get hell out of here you freaking loser! they go back inside slamming door as he walks away neighborhood kids throw apples at him wakes up confused sad from dream

he vows i don’t need love love is for those too lame to stand alone bear solitude self-avowal love is sign of weakness compliance control love is contract made between two people too spineless to take pleasure in own freedom love is way to take advantage exploit love is convenience pact for mutual security love is cumbersome weight tied around athlete’s neck love is suffering love is a lie illusion cover-up for everyone’s petty lame problems

1984 chicago suffers harsh winter furious winds blow across lakefront Mom and Dad take Odysseus to dinner at posh new restaurant in art galleries district on the way Mom and Dad argue about parking Mom wants to leave car with valet Dad insists they first look for space Mom gets annoyed the wind will ruin my hair drop me and Odys off at door then do what you want Dad says you’re going to miss me when i’m gone Mom snaps we’ll see when are you planning on leaving? Dad wears navy blue blazer white shirt burgundy foulard silk tie he is in good spirits winning personality keeps table lively Mom wears beige cashmere turtleneck darker beige wool skirt brown alligator high heels gold earrings she waves then greets roths weissmans who are led by young hostess they walk past table make brief polite conversation after several rounds of drinks Dad speaks you know, it’s about time Odys are you dating anyone in particular? Odysseus hesitates confesses he has had ****** relations with hundreds of girls his knees begin to shake under table he admits maybe I’m incapable of sustaining intimate relationship with one woman i’m conflicted blocking all these feelings inside never learned how to love can’t hold on to anything all i know how is **** and run Mom interjects don’t use that word! she suggests he travel get some fresh ideas Dad becomes irritated lights cigarette waives to waiter orders another Absolute on the rocks bursts out what the hell do you mean you never learned to love you grew up in a house of love *******! didn’t you learn anything? are you purposely trying to ruin dinner? you watch your step mister or i’ll whack you right here at the table! you make me sick with all your excuses one of these days you’re going to wake up Odys and I hope it’s not too late Mom immediately glances at roth’s weissman’s table then glares sharply at Dad she snaps Max lower your voice! people can hear you we’re in a restaurant can we please change the subject? she instantly regains composure continues i spoke with your sister Penelope today and she let me know she might be landing a new account she’s being wined and dined this evening by c.e.o. of prominent san francisco agency later waiter clears entrees asks if anyone wants after-dinner drink dessert Mom orders coffee apple pie with scoop of vanilla ice cream Dad orders coffee Mom asks what do you wish for in your life Odys? who do you want to be? he exhales long breath answers i used to dream of becoming renown painter but now i’m not sure sad to say don’t know what i want sometimes i think of priesthood but i’ve done too much sinning Dad grows irate who puts these ideas into your head? you ******* ungrateful kid! what the hell is matter with you? Mom interrupts Max don’t lose your temper we’re in a restaurant she glances at roth’s weissman’s table nods with big smile on face Odysseus feels entangled in web of desires deceptions debts he vacillates from one aspiration to next grown comfortable in his failures distrust

We've had a turbulent journey together
And as he pushed the bike, slowly did his hand release me
Riding the crashing waves I admit my struggle
And my childish naivety gave passage to worser threats
Yet still he stands there, waving me on my way
Even to this day, despite questionable confidences, I still turn
And still he stands there

A rebel I didn't mean to be, but I am cursed with escalating emotions
Or maybe he would say a blessing, to empathize and find strength
As memories haunt me at night, teaming with those of ill will
The sensitivity he passed on to me prevails, Innocently I am slowed
But my wheels continue turning, and my heart stays true
Though my eyes and ears remain obstructed, my heart makes a turn
And yes, he still stands there

His presence unpurposefully commands attention
And his knowledge, he gives without catch
I understand the wars he must encounter, and yet he stays calm
Giving peace to the tide, he offers nothing, but gives everything
I unconditionally love him
I honestly hold respect for him,
He indirectly teaches me
And fuels me with his love

In this moment, I turn back, not for fear of falling,
But to wave back to the man who let me go
He is no longer there, standing firm in his spot
No
My friend, my father, he rides by my side.

she didn't know..
until she knew
what a curve of learning!


1.
both college-students and real good-friends
he was a science-and-botany buff
            *and the mountain would get a taste of his cells
and she, student of philosophy and languages
            would hear the latent-message from a dozen sources


2.
they shared confidences to the other
things they never told a soul
            he also discussed his theories and science-experiments and projects and stuff
            she told him how slightly-uphill her lectures in Russian proved to be
they'd meet there every Monday.. under the campus-trees
with two hellish-strong espressos
        he remembered her chewy-doughnuts without any snow-sprinkles
        'cause she was given to these silly coughing-fits
        when eating peanuts and pulses
he teased her endless and ragged all her idiosyncrasies
they seemed closer than kin

yet he seemed to remain aloof when she tried to get closer
      he brushed off her advances
      and told her to get lost
then ran off with Lilian on Tuesday
then Zita next Tuesday
then Sumaya the following Wednesday
and Tarryn on Thursday after that
and so it went on for a whole while
the whole academic-year, in fact

yet still
      they studied together
      and swore in debates
      and met every Monday
oh, that was the one day he never dated


3.
on the first day of each month
he'd give her a beautiful clutch-pencil
its casing bled entirely in translucent-fuchsin
and told her to guard well context over content
she never understood this cryptic-crap
       but smilingly accepted each one
she thought them too pretty to use
       and kept them in a special-box
       yet her heart broke each time
he took out a new flavour-of-girl
and shared his tongue with
     Sally and Margaret and Lisbeth and Anne..
     some lasted days, others short-weeks
but they all fizzled out
like the pop that they swallowed
and she wondered if he would ever
              favour her with affection
              give to her what those lucky-gals got
              look into her eyes like that
              whisper sweet-nothings to her
why didn't he want her?

but he was brusque with her and abrupt as discordant-chords
he scolded her like uneven-bricks tumbling down
and yet, it was to her that he played
               his own alternate-ballads on his banjo
               i n t r i c a t e - b e a u t y like living-pearls on those strings
      he couldn't look at her, then
      too caught-up in sweet-delivery of song
and with his eyes closed, her imagination took high-flight
as she was able to stare at him, without fear
                           in wonder
                           in enchantment
and marvel at the mesmerising co-ordination of those busy-fingers..

others passed by, but he did not care.. so giving
she felt so unique
'cause she got what they did not
           unbreakable-bond of
            music and.. talk and.. those clutch-pencil gifts
and for his birthday, she gave him a two-tone pelargonium, potted in cream
left him wordless..


4.
it was near the end of November
(just like now:)
and he casually mentioned of going away
            a week-long hike in December
            with a girl in a group that he'd met, some Sarah or other
and something in her flared and she broke down..
                                                                ­went off the rails

he looked on aghast, in total silence.. half-perplexed, half-squinting
     which disquietened her far more than any outburst could have
he stood there before her, on that Monday
       in the beautiful mid-morning sun
she remembered, to the moment.. how the light caught his eyes
       seemed to be looking right t-h-r-o-u-g-h her
       and almost, she saw the tiniest-trace of something...
       struck by a touch of liquid-vulnerability in his being
but hooded-eyes quick again, typical-hider!

he reached into his backpack
****** her a clutch-pencil
which she almost rejected
but she calmed herself down
and he looked at her once
            turned on heel
and walked to his Beetle
rode off the campus
without looking back

and she kept on wondering what it was all about
       that silent intense-look


5.
news came of a group of hikers who succumbed
from high up
some slipped and
her acrid-tears were not the only to fall
upon learning......


6.
she ran back to her dorm
reached for his gifts.. in full-remorse
and clutching a pencil in each hand
she squeezed and accidentally pressed on the flick-top
and then...............
               (it came out)
i t . . . c a m e . . . o u t . . . ! !

never in her life would she be as stunned
as they repeated their message
     over and over
     in tandem audio-confusion
in all the tongues she had studied
she learns now
of the time he took to delve into her crap to relay his truth through his amazing-invention!


7.
at the interment, she couldn't speak
displacement dipped too deep
she took up one clutch-pencil
      and pressed on the top
      message loud and clear
custom-made brilliance direct from heaven's fingertips

the pall-bearers lifted him up
                 and
out of her life

now this roundabout-present lies in the velours-box
like he does in his



students of learning..
in book.. and in heart








S T - 25 nov 2013

As quiet, sleek and sophisticated as they are.
Cats speak volumes
In meow tunes..to the nation of humans.
In the space they consume...
   Cats speaks..uniquely thank you's in cat chat hues..
Colored as  colorful as the rainbows...
loving to hide where nobody knows
Cats walk with confidences,, able to leap high over fences..
Able to hold their own.. able to freely roam..
A cat can cruise in packs..... or walk solo as a matter of fact.
They don't need man to tell them they are royal
you can see this in their stroll.
Deep down in their being.. so noble,, mankind is blessed to behold..

The animal kingdom fashioned purposefully..
Striking divinity blessing mankind usefully.
Needed generously..Well now if your
sharing space with a cat do it graciously.
Being gentle feline Angels..even when naughty enough to scold.
A cat has a unique role...Even with their pampered attitudes..
If your cats is giving you attitude and acting rude.
There's logic behind those actions and moods..
Get yourself on over to cats school and learn cats 101.
Figure out the madness causing this sadness.

Don't be a quitter.. never hit him/her...
Do no harm.. Or heavens bells will ring a alarm.
Know your attending heavenly royalty keep your blessings flowing.
Cats walk and move softly gently with grace...
Your blessed when a cats in your place.
Show them love..don't bring about disgrace.
Proverbs 12:10 A righteous man regards the life of his animal.
By HeavensRosePoet aka selinarose!

Dust settles.
No longer shall
Pattering feet
Send it flying

The walls stop echoing.
No longer shall there be
Loud joyous voices,
Soft voices with whispering confidences...

The tap keeps dripping.
No longer left open
In careless negligence.

The corners
No longer hide
Secrets dripping
From quavering lips

The grass in the field
Will quietly rustle
Missing innocence
And smiles
Of free days in the Sun.

THE MASK….

This mask that I wear
Is worn with care
Behind this mask
Is someone so
Rare
Beware!!!

For this mask can tell
A million stories
Of fight and glories
Behind this mask
Resides the real me
Confusions
Disillusions
Loneliness
Restlessness

This mask is worn
To cover the scars
Marred by the years
Of fears
Tears
Afraid of not being
Heard
Shattered confidences
Self-worth
Pity showing its ugly face
Feeling of disgrace
So never be fooled
By the mask that is worn
It could be I am tattered
And torn

This mask that I wear
Keeps me secure
And so sure
Silently watching
From every corner
Gaining strength
Dignity
And grace
Finally someday
I will show
My true face
© Helen Moule
23rd April 2012

(For Black History Month 1998)


i have a wish
to be profound...
   to be proud and stronger
   and carry myself like the **** poets on Def Jam
voices of Kenya and kings, emblazoned
with wisdom, respected / permanence
tanned in words of Malcolm & Martin's reign...
   to have passions of Nubian queens
   wear a crown to herald my approach
head held high
   without raising a calloused hand,
   copper polished hearts
A presence that only demands simplistic
of silences in the awe, the inspired
unchallenged in my reverence--an African / American ability
   choreography / invention
   the first to dance, when others fear to
to keep it real and say it loud
my human wishes, strong, profound, proud...
sometimes
   gentille...

i wanna be black...
like King Cobra, a hood to umbrella fright
with venom from just my stereotypical sight
   immobilize and paint caucasians whiter
   to be well endowed yet humbly
complicated,
angry but with proven reasons unrequited,
to be singled out by mere appearance
alone, a Halley Berry poster, child - dealing drugs,
   respected yet in the poetry of chains
   creative even in these multi-colored pains
from a thousand lands of strife
music is sister, artistic is brother life
become ingenious
   saxophones in the moody blues,
   athlete of hurtles, jazz / boxing fights / sang...
gold medals, worthy for full frontal
news...

do i amuse you, with these longings?
think do you - it's a cursed delight?
   but life only
   excels with each challenge: our battles
against ignorance / shame defines
the worth we're given
our lot mostly restricted, our lions tamed
perseveres - tho' weep the dust of our ancients names,
and bleeds these,
our cotton soft truths some mistakes
   and Dolby stereotypes revealed
   re-assigned
now worn like brand new:
a garden painted stronger
roots - and robes of shackles' / thorns
sharp with unlocked prejudices
   brown can do no more (for you sir)
   criminal confidences find the unmoving wave of faith
a prominent jaw-line, obelisk-lips
kiss and smack / wet with loving lengths
it is ... no hurt in these earthen eyes
   evident
   stoic, strength, serenity
mine to dance and sing my apathy instead...
about the history, i wish to dis
yes, re-avow
empty empathies before,
   experience my thousands, marching
   Melato’s at the founding fathers' doors, will show
you how to open house
these ghettos of / our violent villages / of tar & soot
shadow our poor ever the more
our stars shine on
   broadway be our stage / Stomps / in the heart, hopes,
   styles rap / songs to battle racial profiles
racial cops in devil blue,
beating brothas, home video tell our news,
while our rich forget the rest
******* **** in their cribs
re-pimped, yes, ******* new money & *****
   of course, they are the talented ...
   almost gods on Apollo / knock on wood...
the music is still
the song still is
the foot is stampeding
the noise will be loud,

i will be proud
i will be profound
   in this time of redefinition,
i will be strong
(i wanna be black) like Etta James
at last...

He has one eye missing
And a patchwork ****.
I tell everybody he’s winking,
That he has one eye shut.
He’s lost a lot of hair
And he no longer sits up
Like he used to before.
But whenever I see him
I am never in doubt
He is still the bear I adore.

Bubby Bear is a very good bear
The best friend there ever could be.
He sleeps by my side every night
And Bubby never argues with me.

When things get too scary
Or out of control I go and
Grab up Bubby and hold him.
He’s always warm and he’s
Sympathetic, and so I never
Feel the need to scold him.
I can always talk to him
And explain things out
Because he is so very patient.
I think it is because he
Is such a very wise bear
And always there waiting.

Bubby Bear is the finest bear
He always right beside me.
I don’t have to worry that he
He might want to abandon me.

Some people like to tease me
About the way Bubby looks
And make fun of his condition.
But they have to admit to me
They don’t have a friend who gives
One hundred percent permission,
And never gets tired of them
Or tattles their confidences
Or gets bored with what they say.
That’s why Bubby is my best friend
Always was, always will be
All night long and every single day.

Bubby Bear is a very good bear
He puts up with my every whim.
I feel sorry for anyone who
Doesn’t have a friend like him.

stars crinkle under our feet
bouncing off the blades of moonlit grass
carried downstream in the canal behind
my house
I walk down memory lane with my brother Lou
Lou lost it in his teens diagnosed schizoid
but able to function under guidance and meds
together we lug a cumbersome old wooden box
to the trash
gently I quizzed him
“do you remember us when we were little
on our sled all the snow and fun we had?”
Lou stares blankly into the night,
“I was never small, I was made 6 ft. 3 in.”
“but I have a photo of us”
again Lou denies that such a time ever existed,
insisting that he sprang full-grown
from the mind of some unknown madness
Christmas lights blink coloring his face
red then green
“That's alright Lou, I remember....”
whispering goodnight
I tuck Lou under the blankets
of my heart
and watch him trudge away
a small boy in a gray snowsuit


“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you”

(Simon & Garfunkle, 1968)

(Fargo was sad. He said,)



''I was a helmsman some time ago; '' Gian asked him, ''what happened? ''
''It's a long story; I'm an honest man; Geraldine trusts me
With her confidences; I had saved the women who had trusted
Me, except Bella who died before I could save her; she



(Fargo continued,)



Died in the peace of the Lord; '' Hector said, ''God's will for us is good.''
Abseil said, '' Maybe I wouldn't have been able to use my hands
Without your help; you're a good man, but you're little understood.''
''When I wasn't able to do the good things, I've made some good plans.''



(Ismail said,)



''We can do small things with great love; you hated the pirates.
Sometimes, being too passionate can be a bad thing; the lack
Of control is filled with passion; I see rightly in your iris.''
''When I was on the shore, I saw a ship and my hope came back.



(Fargo continued,)




I had to swim and ask for help; I've found three drunken men,
Who were sleeping on the deck; I've entered the captain's cabin
And I've found some documents demonstrating that they robbed ten
Ship passengers; I've heard about robbing on the galleon.’’



(John said,)



'' And how did you deduce that the ship belonged to the pirates? ''
Fargo answered, '' I've found the papers and the treasure
That belong to me; '' Brisbon said, ''Show me these documents! ''
'' A letter is sent to Fargo Escalante, Cantabria, for sure,



(Fargo continued,)



By Francisco Cerda along with some jewelry and money-
A payment for a service; I had waited for it to solve
My financial problems; then, I took a job; '' ''It's mighty funny, ''
Said John; '' My fortune is in my house because I fight to evolve.''



(Suaram asked Fargo,)



Why did you get a job to work on a carrack while knowing
To survive on a galley so well? '' '' As a sailor on
A carrack, I could do difficult navigation during
The storms; '' ''Freddy used to tell me sailing stories at the dawn, ''



(..said Sam, Brisbon replied,)



''He trusted me while sending me in the ports to hire the sailors.
Then, I've controlled the work of the crew on the ship; '' Sulim replied,
''He needs all our help; '' Gian said, '' while sailing, we will be failures
If we don't communicate each other; it is not in pride



(Gian continued,)



To learn how to correct the mistakes; when the ship is broken,
We sink; '' John said, '' we were hired to do many jobs because
Freddy didn't have enough money; '' ''when the fire was smokin',
He lost everything; the fatigue struck us with its claws, ''



(Replied Sam. Suaram said,)

''We have been too exhausted to fight for life; we could all die.''
''Gino, Nico, and Dino died; I could become invalid, ''
Said Abseil; Sam replied, '' you're saved, 'cause God is above the sky! ''
''Who pays us when we can't work? '' Asked Gian; his frowning face was pallid.



(Cosma replied,)



'' When you don't work, you're starving to death; '' Ismail said,
''Fargo had been persevering until he found a safe place.
He's a fighter and an example to us all; he's our head.''
''He should check the kitchen equipment; for me, he's in disgrace, ''



(Said John; Fargo fell asleep and couldn't hear them. Hector said,)



''He rescued the women while asking God for forgiveness.
He used too many details while describing his adventures
And achievements; he has the sleeping pirate as a witness,
When he says that the documents belong to him; '' '' these letters



Said Gian and continued,)

Could belong to any person called Fargo; '' '' they used
The stranger's dogs to find him; I think it's about money, ''
Said Sulim, '' He brought two galleons and soldiers; I'm confused.
He's a powerful man having some secrets; '' ''Don't be funny!



(Replied John, but he became meditative and continued,)



The women love Fargo; '' ''he should inform the authorities
About the documents, '' said Gian; Sam replied, ''I think he did it
And he received their protection; '' '' he has secret priorities, ''
Said John, '' it's not easy to be honest, but I have to admit



(John continued,)



That I do anything for money except stealing; ''
Sam said, '' It's pleasant to live in piracy and sad to be
A victim of it, 'cause it means the loss of any feeling.''
''I am human as long as no human loss is known in me, ''



(Concluded John.)
(The next day, Geraldine and Frederick tried to convince Fargo to tell the authorities that he had been a pirate, but Fargo said that he had played only a game to take back the treasure, which had been stolen by the pirates.)

(...to be continued...)

Poem by Marieta Maglas

I found you 
Found your arms in the secrecy of an encroaching dusk 
In the shade of trees 
The coveted corners of quiet  
I found the hidden pieces of your soul 
As they sat beside mine 
In the comfort of silence 
Whispering through the air promises of belonging  
Of two broken pieces becoming a whole 
Two unknowns becoming the known 
Two wrongs finally becoming one right 

You found me 
As your delicate fingers ran across my skin 
Laced through the curls of my hair 
Carefully stitching the gaping caverns of suspicion in a doubtful heart 
Placing together shattered confidences with a tender touch 
Holding them firmly with the power of your affection. 
We built each other as reflections of ourselves 
As better forms of the shadows we'd learned to become 

We found each other 
With skin upon skin  
Fingers entwined 
A world away from the troubled minds we used to live in  
We found each other 
Together 
We found peace 
We discovered love.

Curious Natures
In a more weak world the most aggressive advantages
don't always deal in what is referred to as "fair consequence."
Being an empire built of sharks, snakes, wolves, and rats-the most basic of beasts-
we really understand the most prehistoric philosophy: survival.
Using it as the first building blocks and the cracked foundation for this society.

Still, one must always reserve all judgements for the most lucrative habits that surprised all by opening up a vast spectrum of the most curious natures.
Leaving any who wander vulnerable to grow into a legendary victim or a menace to the community.
Often being left with a life of never being able to escape their never ending abnormal minds.

It has been speculated as well as documented, that these street racing thoughts are more than fast to attach themselves to a mythical beast more commonly known as a "mortal"  who will lose all balance and footing as they unknowingly grasp both reality and fantasy with white knuckled fists.
Stuck in this forced upon reverie of insane clarity that consumes both the mind and soul.
Becoming vessels for the sins of others, as they are suddenly privy to the most awarding secrets and gilded griefs they could never begin to understand.
Belonging to the most wildly havoc notoriously murdering confidences.
While the rest of us, close our eyes and frequently feign sleep.
All the while refusing responsibility for each other, denying a hostile yet unmistakable sign that declares the biggest secret of all: THE TRUTH.
Told in the most intimate, consuming, quivering, thundering, vibrations being smothered in a explosion that was meant for "We the People" as it projects a plethora of colours on a always changing horizon.

Girl of imagery, of MacBook and Photoshop.  
In a Skype conference with designers and
Project Managers across
Europe,  

Smiling to me when I enter the room
Quietly; she's working. I was in Sweden
With the guys. Bragging. She's good for
You, they said, raising

Beer cans around the fire. Woman
Accepted, dear brother!
A little too drunk, I felt, to phone her from
The hill with reception. No need. She'd

Texted me: Sverre, I am perfect for you;
As you are for me. I adore your energy
Around me. The thought of you
Dances around in my head

Like my last marble, playing pinball with
My insecurities and confidences,
Scoring, then dropping, being
Thrusted back out, making PINGS and

PONGS, and my knees weak. I love taking
Care of you, between all your cares taken of
Me. By Odin, I love you, my one true
Man.

Woman, you turn down all other
Volumes, leaning back with eyes closed
When I read for you. Naming me poet,
But I see now; there's not a medium in

This world you cannot tame and utilize.
I've painted with you, now write with me.
You are a rock star superwoman.
All I can teach you, is that attitude.

His beautiful complexity is difficult,
Confuses me; my neurotic inner child
Wants to be beaten or serenaded,
It doesn't understand many-layered things;
His whispered confidences, less alienating
Than others, made me trust too soon,
And his atoms, more colorful than
His brothers painted-on coats.
My being turns all around his center;
My wheels to his drum,
My arc to his sun,
Laughter when he's coming,
Cries when he's gone-
Till I'm reduced-
Subtracted-
Done.

Connections bring out the worst in me.
Sitting next to you, dark brown eyes
that light up too readily, lips turning at the corners
and a laugh that brings out mine, instinctively.

Secrets shared and confidences brokered
as we lean in and whisper, co-conspirators
facing the world, as a unit we rise together,
my thoughts mirrored on his face.

Tongue in cheek exchanges and insults
parodied and paraded between cross-roads,
intersects as we dance verbally, smiles
all too often exchanged as I know, now,
that I am heading for the fall.

That one that I always anticipate, the one that
has only happened once before, excitement
coursing in my veins as I try to tell myself stop,
think, take a breath and see the wall where this ends.

I can't help it though, his presence is like lightning,
as I glow from within enjoying this brief moment.
Desolation brews, but it is future-bound and I give
myself to the moment, pleasure paid for with future pain.

He is not mine, nor will he ever be,
we will never dance again and our eyes will not meet.

I am trying to find pleasure in past moments
but now gravity claims me, my loss is only my own,
as he falls back into the non-existence from whence he came
and all that now remains is the absence of him.

online avatars
inkhearts  - joined by a love of rhyme
multi coloured pearls on guitar strings

melodies unraveling
whispered confidences sung aloud
revealing the gifts inside
                                                       glad I am to be the receiver

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
  19.11.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Before too long I'm gonna go away.
I'll walk the unswept streets and the humid heats
In the uncleaned city of L.A.
There are things I'm sure I'll break as I make my way;
Laws and promises, hearts and confidences--
That's the sad way we work today.

My heart'll find its home out in the West,
In the form of a man who will enclose my hands,
And he'll spill all his words out and digress.
We'll have four children, then never get our rest,
And we'll apologize when they finally find out that
Mothers do not always know best.

The sun will stain our skin,
And then illness can take us, our treatments will break us,
And we might not ever be whole again.
Then we'll never know
If there will always be borders and pain and disorders
And longing and fences to slip below.

Our children will grow old after we die,
While we sleep in the ground with our roots all around
Or our ashes will wade through the deep sky,
And they will miss our lives, and so will I,
But they'll think of when we walked the unswept streets
And we tucked in their sheets
And they'll smile while they cry.

She wears her in many different styles and likes short dresses. She wears bright colors in clothing and makeup. She is full of sass and laughter. She likes to make a splash with her wit and her smile. She gets attention where ever she goes, but is never dull or boring. She offers a warm hand and support to any friend in need. She personifies the confidences that her parents taught her, all the while exuding *** appeal. She loves to wear heels as often as she can, she loves to know she was watched as she walks by. She will wink an blow you a kiss if you are luck. She will leave you speechless if you catch her eye.

Confidences
   were something we shared, but then,
Secrets are nothing per sè...

Confidence
   was a thing that I'm lacking, but that
Never stopped me, anyway...

I pressed you, you starved me,
It was wrong, but it couldn't be helped.
I said some things that I don't quite recall
You said a few things yourself.

It was a ridiculous assumption, and god **** it,
You're right.
Forgive me if I don't always hear your advice,
Or look away from the truth.
I'm still listening, I swear it.
I'm afraid you might think I'm just here for your ***,
Or afraid you might think that I'm boring and dull.
I'm just beginning to learn that others perceptions,
Are all, as they should be,
well beyond my control,

But, still...

Your eyes of ocean depth see me,
I want you to speak my name.
Searching all my cliches in the dark,
Forgetting the lies from which we came.
But what if all my words are true?
What if they show me the way?
What if the light between oceans is thought,
And words sufficient to make you stay?

Simin
Different doesn’t necessarily mean better.
Your violence, a misconstrued cry for attention and love.
Every road, no matter how long and expansive, leads to an end.
Your ignorance is only feigned bliss,
for the certainty of failure is a known warrantee for unrest,
the illusion of peace.
The demonstration of confidences shattered,
Like withering plant stems.
The misunderstood, the figurative unbeliever,
The needy, abandoned like leaves buried beneath the white of the winter.
The only answer to our extensive quests? Ding, ding, ****.

A slow skull, but steady
as four pull by in unison,
the river readies me for another day
with current confidences
quietly spoken

In comparison, the busy chat
of small brown birds seems rude,
but cheek and charm
forgive a lot
if not all

It’s to the bees I’ll look
for industry this Sunday,
though if their lead will be followed
is yet to be decided

Something once so sweet,
has turned oh so sour.
Past confidences and trust,
now used to exploit and gain power.

Using each other to survive.
Although each one is abused,
neither can die.

Each month becomes tougher,
for one to thrive the other must suffer.

He is now weak and he is lonely.
False memories of happiness
induce feelings of regret.
He now lacks purpose,
he now lacks sense.

She recognizes his agony and remembers the pain.
She provides minimal attention to barely keep him sane.

No room in a heart that has used up all its tears.
Conditioned to resist through past abandonment and fear.

He takes what she gives him,
although lacking satisfaction.
If only he could break down her walls, and once again, find true attraction.

Embarrassed and discouraged,
passion twists to resentment.

As the anger harbors,
he becomes independent.

He breaks away,
in need of a more gracious host.
She was almost ready,
she was so close.

In panic,
she cracks,
Her barriers fall apart.

What if that was the last chance she had to reopen her heart.

She is weak, she is lonely.
Unrealistic dreams twist her previous intents.

She loses all purpose.
She loses all sense.

Power hungry he basks,
in his temporary independence.

While she yearns,
she begs,
for more sufficient attention.

Her hopes diminish.
Despair exchanged for rage.
As her dependency falters,
his power wanes.

Stuck again he wants her.  
He needs her to feel alive.

She won’t give up control,
she holds tight to a fake pride

They both chase that high.
The adrenaline of that first kiss.
An unattainable sensation,
that is entertained through a string
of if onlys’ and what ifs?

The cycle is vicious,
will it ever cease?

This is not love,
it is a parasitic disease.

I have medicine.
Am being kept alive by progress.
Little pills like droplets of pale blue
Doctor-nectar.

I have been inside women so beautiful
I nearly gave up
Ghost.
Their confidences were instruments

Of classical composers.
The creative pleasure of the
Universe manifested. Aesthetics. Pure.  
Their bodies were salty

Words longing to be
Poetry.
They did it.
Made flesh immortal.

My hands were dead upon them; my
Heart skipped beats in the name of
Glossiness.
Twig fingers upon dead silicone.

And I grew around their hearts
Like a tree around a graveyard light post;
Watered with tears and appreciated at times  
When any

Grieving heart throws itself at anything
Beautiful and
Rigid.
For something.

I know love.
It tickles and hurts.
And I know death.
They're related.

Sisters separated at birth.
I know Poetry.
She says to Death and Love:
*Do you guys have the

Other two
Thirds of
This
Medallion?

of confidences I have but a few
of doubts I have many
I've no doubt,
      however,
that my doubts will prevail
and my confidence
will fail

Dear mr. Cole.
I allow myself
"Joe", with the deepest respect
For a man I barely know.
But I know...

You contain
Multitudes, no less than
Whitman. Supporting posting
Writers with the warmth
Of an all-loving Allfather; raining
And shining on seedlings sown
By poets of varying confidences.

Larger than any poet
Ever read
Is he who encourages writing.

Joe, yours is the hand that swats
The one that holds back the
Pen of the uncertain poet.

Your poetry reflects
Your garden, God's Creation,
The beauty within wild things
Growing...

And all that glory and grace
Of which you write,
My friend, our Joe.
Is all a mirror
Reflecting
Its beholder.

We shouted the things we wanted
The most on unguarded roof tops
Thought up things like new colors
New feelings
we lived like messy hand writing
like abstractions
our souls mosaic
we took things that electrified
our senses
we felt love more intensely
felt it like a ******
felt it like a magnificent burden
it wasn’t a lump in our throats
but a swollen yearning for the truth
like an inflamed tonsil
a piece of someone on our tongue
left from a kiss that we can’t seem to
spit out
a vibration in our teeth
telling us that this
this here is what it felt
to hold fire in your hand
and not regret it
never regret it
we burned with this for days
stayed up all night
drank coffee by the galleons
punched ourselves numb
coated our skins in alcohol
and linens
peeled off scabs from our lips
left there by words we never said
blank objectives
cleared our schedules
cleared our wasted minds intoxicate from pine
wine, girls with confidences and odd mirrors
of *******
we wanted winter to kiss us
leave us frozen but not that she already had
we wanted to remember like an old photograph
like a worn out stretch book
a L shaped couch left behind burned
like we did
there are tons of things we needed
but what we wanted was a good ******* a really
good *******
Something to keep away the suspense
The terror, the anxiety
the failure
we are tired of saying anything
cursing is our second language.
sarcasm is our first
and a blank page is our third
We’re speechless
We’re exhausted
We’re afraid
We’re old
We’re young
We’re tired
We’re loose
We’re *****
We’re yearning
For it
Whatever it is.

She was on her way
she was bad
she made promises
she was addicted to guilt
she always made good in her promises
in the most horrible ways
i suppose they were lies
you knew better
on one hand
in retrospective
survival
me, you and no one
is exception
just 3 words
in the english dictionary
i didnt read novels
i, if empath
did not learn the wares
in books, no where

no one i suppose is born into a full house
we only come from one
it turns out inherently
and only a matter of time
and we all have some strange words
the ones of faults we are not acute to
we've plenty our own

you know when your played
you know when your vulnerabilities and defenses have been
pushed to walls, come tumbling
more so crashing
as the perfect strorm
of all manifestation

she was on her way
you journeyed along
your paths were mighty
she said they and i
were wrong

it took so little time
the death pangs
so long
from light
to darkness
that swallowed
all

Dark Star
You knew, speaking for myself
Had it been a twist of fate all along
is that what life was
was this another spiral
pilot lost control
to save some empire
for some lost little girl
from the other side
you knew better of
there were no questions
no not really

Only confidences
in your manifest journey
of existence still
Dark star
break on through
the other side

Was it the rabbit hole
i didnt read that either
but know enough by now
if but for
upside down, inside out and backwards
was there some of that..

where logistics of love, life
liberty, justice, the persuit of happiness
simple decency, respect, recognition of another life
that was not an extension toy of your own whims and will
for some phony battle of arrogance
phony, epic, relentless
you know, senseless

from impossibilty twice
two entwined in impossibility
once again

******************­**

She was beautiful
she was bold
well, well rooted
on the perfect spelll
of perfect earth
broad lovely branches
of every unique alluring curvature
every necessary size shape and placement
well leafed
in a perfect summer
perfect solace
back bracing shade

She was the tree of life
Whom came of love
Of course

Just three steps away
Recognition
Acknowledge
Forgiveness

I can never forget her
She has not withered
no not a bit in rejection
She has more beauty, strength
and every lovely attribute
even more so still
of course on one hand
amazing grace
thee other

************

Just three steps away
Is life

888888888888888888888888888888888888888
8888888888888888888­88888888888888888888
888888888888888888888888888888888888888

I tried to refuse
to wake from this dream
By this morning
Two days I tried to
Escape from possibility

To understand the tragedies
On Valentines Day
'tis the day

It was the Sun
Both of them
Just yesterday
Twin Stars

Is it once again
Or always

Can one be
If not for another

To be or not to be

Twas, is not a question after all

For both must
And at Once
Together

All Else
Illusion

88888888
88888888
88888888

Yet I can't get over this thang
Not here, not by oneself

Not for long
Bless this earth and kiss the sky

And you have just admitted to the curse
We all carry in coins and purse

****************

I still believe
And want that greater thang

I want it again, again
again...

Begin again, again
again

**************
For what I know
I have none of doubt
No one does

But what is so crucial
Is what it is about

*************

From what I know
All is
or comes from love
Dark and Light

An infinitely deep
passion play

Keep it Love
Keep it Lite

A Heart that floats
Or be crushed

by the Light

*************

Today again I tried not to wake
For I cared completely
Somehow
Simply still

*************

And here are we still
Not one

An extension
Of Another's will

**************

No vice,
no *******

No choice
of poison
spells
or pills

************
If
Love is life
Does all else ****

************

Bending, twisting, amending,
taking, faking, breaking
shading, fading

Another's will

*************

Does Love not have willingness

Inherently shared
Can't be too far

from the beautiful tree of life

What is mine
What is your's

88888888

Twas it a question
AFTER

An Illusion
AFTER
ALL

moonlight paints streaks
  on adolescent bodies
ocean-clad and gleaming
with their alabaster finish
impeccable
impenetrable
lay our confidences
coiled softly within our own hands
for us only
peeking every now and then
just to make sure its staying put
and like a flashlight in the sky
we are all revealed
under a light thats harsh, but forgiving
yet stranger things have
and stranger things will
come of this new moon

Confidence shrouded my misguided  interpretation of love.
It shattered my amends then threaded them back together to make a new person.
Someone who was capable of handling rigorous scheming love,
And handing it back to where it came from.
A hero without a mask. Because confidence hides no fears that it's never had.
And my cape formed from courage and matted rags.
It wasn't as flashy but confidence is not arrogant or cocky. He holds class.
Enough to look past the ongoing  criminals that hide behind vile merciless masks.
And unbeknownst courage would be confidences fall.
Because from the start all courage was made of.
Was tattered curtain clogs.
And courage was just as false as unbeknownst.
Confidence was just to confident that courage would pull through.
And at times he did.
With a heroic smirk and smile that no one trusted.
Because everyone knew courage was false confidence.
And confidence was truly lost.
All hope diminished against the evil malicious terminally ill poison.
Known to humans as love.
After all the greatest evil is the evil that controls a persons heart.
And no one's truly free until love is lost.
And confidence is found.
And courage is made.
Not from love made hand me downs.
But from the iron we create from our heart.
And that's the strongest part no one ever believes.
You don't need love to be happy.
"You just need me"
Said courage, right before he died.
And confidence collided with the ground being thrown off his steed.
Leaving no trace of sound.
Just dirt and soiled tattered clogs.
"And so I've lost"
Confidence exhaled with a shrivel of a sound.
Mimicked a voice only you could hear if love didn't control you.
That's how I lost them along the way.
Because they were my reason for this journey of love.
Now it's ended and I'm left with no friends.
Just truth.
And love still speaks to me with a silver tongue.
Whispering words of dreams and wisdom.
But I'll never fall for it again.
From now on I know to look for love transcribed from confidence and courage formed from within.

The true story is.
Not even confidence could win.

Against love.

yes, only the paper will listen when
called upon
for what is a clean sheet but only our reflection
human

it:
crinkles
wrinkles
folds and bends
yellows with old age,
can always be changed
and always constant if unaltered

it:
speaks in words
embraced with lip kisses
can be cherished
can be destroyed
ashes to ashes
just like a human

print this poem:
place it in your everyday purse
of all things valued, kept upon
your person, close by
for comfort
for reflection
amidst the haste

the paper preserves:
your glory
your memory
your secreted confessions,
an exposure of your nakedness
your innermost outermost

the paper is skin:
can be scarred
held close by
shelved to be avoided
shed cells, store cells,
can be blood stained
can keep lipstick witness
dry tears, elicit tears

when we pass:
we leave behind
progeny
objects of valuable
meaningful to our unique
and papers

papers:
of legitimacy
of illegitimacy
of recollections
future predictions
remnants scraps
full books
our product
on this earth

the paper always listens,
patiently awaits our impatience
our truest friend, confidante
who can be confidently be trusted to
reveal our confidences

the clean sheet listens
as we part with thoughts
that can only be entrusted
to ourselves, our limbs
our entirety castoff
our entirety sustained


3:47am 11/29/19