The Artist wandered further
for whispers carry their weight in stone,
his eyes worn following the Moon
for in his deserted Atelier, spiders spatt
cobwebs and threadbare floors empty.
Gone was the  idyllic image of the cherry blossom
that daintly settled on the ground
for now it collects over a canopy
where rogue cheeked maidens
gander .
And the memory of Muriel, his muse
who danced foolishly into the fire, returns.
Wherewithal can we ever measure the true value
For she was not guarded,
stubborn even, against those denizens
the way of the World being evil
and the remnant of the Flemish cloth she wore
laid out alongside the stone wall.
The flicker of innocence ruptured
A brush stroke never  rendered.

4/3/14

In the setting of this dream, I am setting in a field of roses and lillies bordered by sunflowers. The sun and moon are both in the sky. From my perspective on this lonely planet, they are dancing in a circle in the sky. My claws shift through the dirt, I am uncertain of what I hoped to find in the soil. To the north is a medium sized ravine, to the west endless vegetation, to the east the plaguelands, and to the south a large clay cliff that overlooks the flower stage that I reside. I have no words or weapons because no one comes. Everyday is peacefully similiar, and I do not mind. Upon this stone I watch my world grow, die, and repeat. In my mind I pray someone finds me before the plague defiles my flowers and heart. Suddenly, there is a sudden shift in the sound of the wind. It is as if there is a new presence blocking the flow of the air and my thoughts. I open my eye to search the surroundings. Has the disease finally reached us? No. On the top of cliff stands a purple foxen humanoid with a bow her hand and ire in her eyes. Our eyes lock until the wind shifts in my direction. On the wind rides her gentle war song. With a deep thump in my chest, my heart begins to pump fire through my veins. I'm the only one who can take my world from me. The flames first pervade through my tear ducts. Quickly standing and slamming my fist to the earth, fire pours out of every pore of my body. A swift jab in the air toward her direction unleashes a fiery hell ball that misses her narrowly. She doesn't flinch or blink. I prayed that the first person to find me would be gentle, but that only exist in the dictionary. My heart is racing flames through my body, a heated aura oozes from my heat. The plants around me begin to melt. I take an offensive stance with both fist clinched by my waist. I'll sink her and that cliff. I'll show her true passion, true heat, true pain, a swift end. Her focus never leave me. She reaches for a single moon bleesed arrow. Her bow string comes with a 300lb pull. With the arrow in position, she pulls it back with just her pinky claw. What is she? A demon? A saviour? A thief? A lover? A warrior? No point in asking because she is going to be a skeleton in a few moments. Before I can show her my pride, her bow lets out a mighty thud. In my ears I hear a single heart beat. She got me, right in the heart. I sink to my knees. The red mage downed by a single arrow. NO! I try to use  my fleeting heart beat to summon one last blast. I can feel my lungs fill. As I go to breath her death toward her, nothing but blood comes out. She slides down the cliff toward me. As she picks a rose with her bare hand, she approaches me with her tail and fur flowing in the breeze. After pushing me over, she daintly throws the rose and its blood covered stem on me. Holstering her bow, she continues toward the plaguelands. I muster a final chuckle. Thank you.

I wonder what Heavens like
Is it white with fluttering doves and shiny golden gates that tower 7 feet above the clouds?
Or is it outside the atmosphere where a stars twinkle is so bright its blinding?
Are you suppose to walk up an ivory stairway or fly with your feathered white angel wings?

I see Heaven as a place you go when you are loved
A place where you don't have to be good to get in or bad to get kicked out
It's where your guardian angels gather and interact among the holy gods of Allah or Our Creater himself
Heaven is the clouds passing daintly and lazily by
Caught up in the leisure winds, grinding against the azure sky

Where the demons hide beneath the entry way, laying low
Wishing they were loved like the rest of the afterlife that lives in Heaven

Star spangledgraciousness
An empty vessel
Yet not without its redwine
Red wine
& sourness of past inhabitants
The fog of Manhattan
Cries the whale of night
In a street of slurred bodies
& electrical heads &the; train is late &excusemepleasesorrythankyou;
& directionless/compliancy is for the agents who don't know rhythm i can speak the tongue of a sweatfaced
Painterman or
The kindly blind
Who haven't the time for soreness

Its all soupNmute screamin!!!g

"Ur dryer has been faulty /
The showerhead makes cruel sounds!"

My Beltbuckle healthier than
Leather!of my shoe (a horn from up the block)

Rosesmile lovely faces
Being uplifted by balloons &
Kissing hymns

(RedwineRED wine)

Impolite barter
Or 75 cents in Metro
Paused for Rodenticide

(green neon coffin)
Coughing neon green

(!!)


HERE is a wailingCannonBall
Creating a space of drums
And dancing or microphoneAAA

Golden cloud & dripping halo
Words cannot hurt these saintly scenes
of a
Light caught in the rain
As mist rises u p
From my fleecy walk
& protest sirens orchestrate
SUNSET tape
/X and O/
               Do not mind the slipping
               Metal
               Or poorly-tended meadows coming up thru
               Hairlines
               ////////////###
      Transmutable
      Grains to cigarette ash
      Rolling daintly upon the marblefloor
      I have seen scholarly tearjerkers
      Preach about the elevator
      Blinking the signal of the soul
      Holy(soul)
      And potplant lids
      Fantasizing of Mothers
      To shoeshine their world
      A (         eniwder

"hellonothankyou"
    "AfterallthistroubleIwentThrough!"­)
Note of
Myself put into the hardwood of

The blunder
Of thought itself

For a fool beneath a bridge to find
& smoke with aching feetNplastic
teeth
Speaking plastic musings to

The plastic of the falsely opposed
Withdrawn
And unable to prove why this country hates them so much

(which begs the question)
Candles keep to the museum of headaches & irony

I keep to this narrow night under the
Attic of West 3rd

Wishing for a place to rest easy
Except these foreigners slam their

Quiet fists to the map of New York City instead
AhOkLetsBePatientPuh-Leese

This sort of passion for
The stone and it's
many
Bulbous radiant
fingers
While simultaneously
Brushing them away with nervous laughter
Can only be caused by

Spending too much time at the beach
Reading playwrights.

I wonder what Heavens like
Is it white with fluttering doves and shiny golden gates that tower 7 feet above the clouds?
Or is it outside the atmosphere where a stars twinkle is so bright its blinding?
Are you suppose to walk up an ivory stairway or fly with your feathered white angel wings?

I see Heaven as a place you go when you are loved
A place where you don't have to be good to get in or bad to get kicked out
It's where your guardian angels gather and interact among the holy gods of Allah or Our Creater himself
Heaven is the clouds passing daintly and lazily by
Caught up in the leisure winds, grinding against the azure sky

Where the demons hide beneath the entry way, laying low
Wishing they were loved like the rest of the afterlife that lives in Heaven

She was a bird in a cage
Locked from the evil lurking in the outside world.
All she wanted was to fly and see the world.
But she was kept locked in the cage.
Such beautiful feathers of a rare kind,
If it gets in the wrong hands,
Oh what bad could they do.
The owners kept her in safe and sound
But that's not what birdie wants
She wanted to fly and be happy 
Just like all other birds. 
But not everyone gets what they want 
Especially not a bird with a broken wings.
Her heart was in pieces ;
Some of it far from her reach.
She couldn't go find it so she held what she had left. 
Clutched to her chest she held it there. 
Sometimes it went numb.
Sometimes she could fell everything crash ,
For she felt like a useless bird in a cage.
Less of a bird more of a doll.
Stone cold; 
Sometimes she sang a sweet melancholy,  
A melody so sad and alone
But sometimes it was more of a dream.
She looked through the windows 
As she sang her bits and pieces 
In a rhythm,
Wondering if they'll be a day
She can fly safe in the sky. 
Till then she'll just sing all day long.
No matter much the owners took care of her, 
Daintly like a proceline glass valuing the feathers she possessed, 
Yet she couldn't stop to wonder where the pieces where gone.
She wanted to find it but she couldn't 
Cause she's just a bird in a cage.

Its always an eventuality

Ripped from fantasy into reality

I've come to expect the certainty

That forever I will be lonely


Standards are lowered

More to give, less to take

Back to the way it was

Forever just another mistake


Perhaps one day

I'll consider this logically


An acid trip

through my destroyed psyche


I lived a nice high temporarily

Before it ended so promptly

Leaving me feeling quite queasy

Curled on the floor remembering vaguely


Simply insignificant

In the bigger scheme of things

Worthless and unimportant

Lost in my own 
writhings.

I fit the mold perfectly

drugged up and hung daintly

upside down to view plainly

On display so painfully


One heartstring

played beautifully


Another conspiring

quite loudly


An eventuality

From fantasy to reality

Expecting the certainty

Forever

Lonely.

Words - they flow and they ebb,
they reverberate eternally in this brain chamber of mine.

They echo, they roll, they slide, they rhyme and most of the  time they're nonsensical like these lines.

They're twisted and convoluted,
Ominous and auspicious.
Silly and simple.
Rhythmic and staccato.
They certainly have a life of their own.

One moment they're infused with scents of vanilla ,
The next moment it's dettol mixed with ***** of a gorilla. 

Sometimes they'll roll sweetly like cinnamon and baked apple pies.
Other times they'll dangle daintly like merrigolds and ponsiettas.

Then there are moments when they will leave me awake with the ultimate conundrum like am I charmed or beguiled?

What can I say?
A hodgepodge of words praying to be thought of; unforgot.
They sing me to sleep  like a sweetly sung lullaby .

A   quiet   place   nestled   upon   a   hill,
A   garden,    chairs,    moods   soft   and   still,
Sat   musing,    lost,    yet   somewhat   aware,
Of   a   stray,    nagging   care.

I   sensed   the   first   faint   footfall   sound,
I   closed   my   eyes   and   from   around,
Mirth,    naughty,    chuckled   through   the   trees,
Light   footed   rain   danced   on   the   eaves.

O'er   hilltops   delicate   graceful   weave,
The   clouds   in   ritual   begin   to   cleave,
To   trim   her   star   studded   gown
And   daintly   clothe   a   sleepy   town.

Walk   soft   -   Night   now   claims   her   way,
Her   dark   ushers   the   day   away,
Muted   light   silhouettes   the   stately   trees,
I   heard   her   song   upon   the   breeze.

Quilted   shadows,    sleepy   flowers   turn,
Dreamy   eyes   with   strange   passion   burn,
A   sudden   fragrance   lent   it   voice
I   watched   them   with   their   Night   rejoice.

I   held   her   words   before   they   fled,
In   gentle   tones   to   me   she   said
"Others,    today,    in   festive   mood
Celebrate-   Why   alone   do   you   brood? "

"Let's   walk   together   my   secret   way
'Cross   hill   and   vale   where   done   dare   stray"
She   beckoned   -   I   yet   held   my   place
Distrusting   of   her   smiling   face.

"Behind   me,    look,    do   you   hear
The   sounds   of   joy   and   of   cheer"
I   said,    watching   from   afar,
Gaiety   hostage   to   that   hour.

Through   frosted   panes   the   candles   glowed
And   talk   and   laughter   freely   flowed
Then   her   mist   reached   out   to   me
Blurred   my   eyes   I   could   not   see.

Drifting,    gliding   o'er   time   and   space
No   longer   rooted   to   one   place
"Pain,    Sorrow,    revelers   of   the   Day"
She   said   "Here   they   dare   not   stay"

She   said   "   'Tis   time   for   us   to   walk
Across   to   see   and   hear   their   talk
I've   given   you   vision   to   see   and   know
The   passing   comfort   of   the   candle's   glow".

Within   me   a   sudden   joy   was   born
Of   knowledge   that   what   Day   had   torn
Night's   touch   would   mend   and   make   it   whole
Cloister   a   lost,    troubled   soul.

"They   seek   the   false   pallid   light
And   try   and   keep   out   the   Night
With   fading   lives   and   laughter   short
They   live   afraid,    Fear   is   their   lot".

We   strolled   together,    I   and   Night
To   that   door,    well   out   of   sight
A   table   clad   in   rust   and   red
She   chose   -   the   candle   wounded   bled.

One,    protective,    with   his   hand
Shaped   a   vain,    trembling   band
Around   the   flame   -   Night   looked   and   smiled
I   watched,    unseen,    as   he   tried.

To   keep   the   gust   from   wounded   flame
Night   went   on   with   her   game
Her   companion   breeze   raised   the   stake
To   help   her   the   fragile   band   to   break.

To   shock   his   hand   to   chilled   retreat
Abandon   candle   and   his   seat
The   dead   candle   lay   where   once   it   glowed
Talk   and   laughter   no   longer   flowed.

Night   said   "They   are   creatures   of   the   Day
Unworthy   with   dark   Night   to   play
They   shun   my   caress,    they   fear   my   hold
Dulled   senses   and   with   spirits   cold."

"I've   shown   you   what   there   is   to   know
Some   lives,    brief,    like   candles   glow
I've   chosen   you   to   walk   with   me
Awakened   senses   and   with   spirit   free."

A   parting   smile,    she   turns   to   go
Shimmering,    fades   in   a   rustling   flow
I   watch   a   new   dawn   break   the   sky
And   brush   the   dew   drop   from   my   eye.

When,    now,    my   weary   days   are   long,
I   draw   a   chair,    await   her   song,
The   garden's   quiet,    moods   soft   and   light
As   we   embrace,    I   and   my   Night.