Glacial, the gaze of wintry viridian irides
Silken, the heavenly flesh
Lurid, the flames of a paradise awry
Mourning all the sinister angels have blessed
With their tainted perfection, their hideous lies
Hope shines so thinly in an eonian land barren of all love
Great men become emptied, the tormented cry
Amidst desolation, a beautiful dove
Becomes alive, voicing a longing call
Amongst forgotten pantheons, a saviour resides
Though, broken, gashed, beaten, and threshed
Awakened by beautiful birdsong, driven to reply
Was this an augury? He must strike out to answer this call from above
 To redeem some grace, from the woe of it all

When the magistry has ended, /
The echoes of repose begin to resound; /
Although there is, there has been a great wanderer in me, /
The beckoning has not ceased, /
Nor has my heart been claimed in abeyance. /

A story, one with risings & fallings, /
One with an unfalteringly great divide, /
Has bestowed a parcel from on high; /
The Winds, The Earth, The Ocean, The Sun, The Moon, /
They are the pulse of this Grand Tapestry. /

When we are enraptured, /
By ensorcelled irides /
We become; /
Sometimes being enamored /
Means our journey is re-willed; /
Moreover, we see the world with Brand New Eyes. /

Allowing every experience, to re-modulate my thoughts & feelings /
I realized uncertainty was not a barrier, /
Rather, it was my nexus to transcendence. /
Having a time & space in which to reflect, retrospect, & introspect was an aegis, /
Now real & authentic happiness is no longer distant /
And faith is near. /

My eyes are sunken a dark gray aura surrounding their gaze,
My blue irides surrounded by a web of crimson veins.
My ***** blonde hair a tangled mess of greasy strains,
3 am and I realize I haven't slept in days.

3 am and student loan debt is still clawing at my mind,
3 am and over this unemployment ****, I've yet to climb.
3 am and a solution I've yet to find,
Where is my family when i'm in a bind?

Where is mom, still drinking with her friend?
Where is dad, did he leave me for them?
Where is love, on money does it depend?
I'm tired but where do my problems stem?

I'm tired its been 58 hours and 51 minutes,
I'm tired I think I've reached my limits.
I'm tired I just can't win it.
My reflection in the mirror a sad beaten grimace.

I made a new friend today. She's a devil, making a lair of the details.
Her first words bound me in her spell,
Her first gesture captivated my soul.
Turning my frown upside down was her first concern.
The sun shown above, hot and flirty, blinding me with her enthusiasm.
Stepping in her way, my friend gave me back my sight.
Gratefully, I smiled and looked her in the eye.

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
Her eyes were red and her hair was too
Long and graceful, it flowed down her neck and spread over her bare shoulders.
Flirting with the winds, locks of her hair seemed to dance in the sun's light.
She cast no shadow and bore no weight on the earth's face.
Standing weightless she floated in place.

I made a new friend today, while resting from the day's labors.
In the shade of my favorite tree, I was sitting, breathing heavily with a death stick in my hand.
My gaze shifting madly while my mind was drifting steadily farther from the scene.
Another day was almost over...
Taking heed of the greenery
Taking my fill of the fresh air
Knowing that my concrete hive awaits my return.
Then she came, blocking out the setting sun.
Tall and slender she rose over me.
Her form redefined what I knew of elegance.
The beauty looked down to me, then came down to meet my gaze.
Her scent filled my head and brought it ever so slightly higher.
Her eyes laid claim to mine.
They glimmered like rubies and for a moment, her eyes were all I could see. Then the rest of her face caught my eye.

She was everything that I was not.
She was fair and smiling, I was dark and weary.
Light and loose, her dress spoke of her freedom,
while mine wreaked of aspesis and death.
Her face was smooth and clear,
while mine was wrinkled and rough.
Her eyes had clear whites and ruby red irides
Mine were the blood shot whites and the yellow irides.
Half a mind there, with the other blank and clear.
Below her I was sitting, receptive and calm.
She put her left hand on my right shoulder...
No words were yet uttered.
I thought; good things come to those who wait,
and wait I did, this opening line is hers.
Let her use it as she sees fit. I hope she would...
I only hope she is mindful of her words.
I only hope she speaks.
Her lips moved and her voice danced.
Into my skull her words raced.
"I came for you. I come bearing a light for your mind.
I come bearing knowledge for your longing.
I come in answer to your prayers."

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
Her first words bound me in her spell.
Turning my frown upside down was her first concern.
and on she went with her opening line.
"Here only for you.
Our differences may be numerous,
But I size them up with no displeasure.
Our differences may be many,
But still I come to your aid.
Son of Adam, I am here to provide for you and only for you.
I provide comfort when none can be found.
I provide company when no one is around.
I provide wisdom when your wits scatter about."

"A rather lengthy opening line there." was the first thought that came to my mind.
"you speak in riddles and claim to bear subjects for my passion, and answers to my questions.
Claiming to have knowledge of my persona.
My dreams, you claim to know and understand.
Who are you ? or better yet, What are you ?
You bear in your hand only a single fruit, a glistening green apple.
Time's passing left no marks on your face or voice.
Your complexion tells me you live a life of luxury; elegant and powerful, your arrival caught me off guard.
You were kind enough to reveal the purpose of your visit to me in your first words.
I find your honesty appealing,
your voice comforting,
your sight mesmerizing,
but my eyes never fool me and they tell me that you're not human; nothing like myself."
My reply came swiftly, though not needed, as I came to know later on. Our conversing was but a formality, for her at least, I on the other hand knew of no other method of communication.
Though eloquent and infinitely flexible, my tongue's expressive potential was still limited.
Limited by my humanity; its actions were governed by a despot.
And limitation's despotism seemed to never waver.

Again her voice rose, tempting and dizzying me;
"Son of Adam, I am not of your species.
You asked what I am and I will provide you with an answer.
I am not human, not belonging to this plane of existence. I concede to none of the laws to which you concede.
I may be the first of my kind to cross paths with you, but be assured, you are not the first of your kind to cross paths with me.
I am essentially a being of the ethereal realm.
I come from a different world
Where reality and fantasy exist side to side
I have been called many names... Demoness, Devil, Temptress, Goddess.
A human's demise, Lust's incarnate.
You may use whichever you like of them."

I clung to silence for a second, then gave her my answer.
"The names you've provided me with all seem to hold no meaning for you.
They were all used by predecessors to myself, I am sure. And I suppose that's the reason you chose to suggest them to me."
Slowly and silently, she nodded; non of them held any meaning for her.
"I care not for formalities and I care not for my predecessors.
I will use whatever name you use.
If you would allow it."

Her voice came in a whisper.
"I will only agree if you vow never to share it with another. For unlike yours, mine was brought into existence with my creation. It is as much a part of me as I am a part of it, and it is mine and mine alone to dispense of or reveal."
For a moment, I considered my situation, it seems I am as much her destiny as she is mine... or at least part of it. I was tempted by her offer and pleased by her sincerity, her apparent decency.
"I agree to your terms, I vow never to speak of it. Now tell me!"

And tell me she did.
Speak of it I won't.
She revealed it as promised
So share it I can't.

"My name is my power, it holds my soul and my mind.
Son of Adam, I know of your longing.
I came in answer to your calling
I heard all your silent thoughts
I heard all your questions
They reached my ears wherever I roamed, and I have come to you."

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
By her name I could call her when nobody else ever could.
She was desire in the flesh...
My solitude she wished to crush
My thirst she hoped to quench.

"Oh, but solitude is good for the soul, my friend. Solitude is my ground... my grind.
And though I long, you can never satisfy me, my friend.
I long not for answers or keys, but an end to the questions, the master key to this infernal maze of a world. For what is life if not a pensione? vacant rooms, all locked, or wishing not to be disturbed.
What are the people we know if not transients? They book, move in, stay, then leave... Like tourists, lazy, dumb and gullible idiots.
Do you wish to be one of said jokers and frauds?"

Her face was unchanged.. she seemed not to be bothered by my last ultimatum, and her voice again came to me, clear and calm, "Son of Adam, I wish not to devalue your dilemma, but it is you who is transient here, not me. Your likes never last, and to the next world you will soon undoubtedly be cast."

"Good point... that makes me the only candidate for such hypocrisy.... Then tell me, how do you intend to aid me? Out with your secrets my friend."

O, it is December,
A brumal, solemn,
Algid December;
I do fall
And I do quiver, in
Reminiscence
For it is December.

A throne
Worn, earthen-millefleur recliner
And I
Vestured in dereliction,
Crowned in
The Diadem of Loveless Blight:

Your utterances resound in
The dense sense of the past tense;
Ineffable magistry,
Where our
Scintillations and propagations might emblazon
The Luminous Seeds of the Stars.

Your soul
Waxeth Messianic,
In those
Pithy moments
Of our ethereal communion.

        Your porcelain epidermis
                                                And azure irides
                                    Quaked mine senses
                                                          ­ Until every sight was
                                                 ∞Arcadian∞

O, Where
                        Have you gone
            Glaceaen Arcadia?

     O, Is the
            Fulgurant Vista
     You sparked in
Mine Mind’s Sky
              Now twilit, a starless Aether?

Breathe me
            Anew, that the Auric Chalice of Amour might pour
Me into thee, set me free, let me be
                              Yours and yours
                                        Alone (∞).
            

O, it is December,
A brumal, solemn,
Algid December;
I shall transcend
And I shall remember
Your infinite arms,
For it is December.

orbs of blue in the drizzle of rain,
a flesh-numbing cold; myriad of pain;
red-hued cheeks and traces of benzocaine.

russet irides shift with the aegean's quick moves
through the black pupil, colors to exclude
and brows are squinting; just in slight disapproval.

clumsy dance of eyes in the dim afternoon light,
café au lait für Zwei, für dich und mich allein,
as we bid our longing gazes a sorrowful good night.

© fey (25/12/21)

Disappointment & anger
Cloud my emotions.
They've been played with,
Toyed with like
A ball of
String
In a one sided war with a cat.
Feelings of contempt
Are forged in iron upon
My eyes.
No secret
Hidden from the
Irides.
Furnaces of dragon breath
Burn against my forehead
Cloud my vision
Of sense.

On a rustic bench there laid
a single cat of dire age.
Between lushful green she gazed
longingly into the distance - as if
far away she would catch a glimpse
of home to reside in irides of an amber lynx.

© fey (05/06/22)

This head's a space
clouded
its brume almost reaching
the insides of my irides
This hand's a tremble
from its roots
an earthquake
venturing back to an especial gob
of cardiac muscles
helplessly siphoning life through
the fragile cracks of this cage of ribs
Around my floating body
Spins the earth
Just another ornament
In a knitted blanket of galaxies
I do not question where
I do not question why
Those eyes, jaded
by stale smiles that have been
keeping them fed
and distracted
I am not one with myself
as the wavering mind threatens
to abandon this sad case of dolor
Breathing suffocates
Silence, a pain
I need a hand
to slap and punch me out of conscience
to shake and yell
live, you are alive!

I miss being a teenager
because I can't grow up any-more.

I still get hormone swings
and that peer pressure thing
and regret I can't withdraw.

Yet my sense of being is not increasing,
No it's not at all.

I have a fondness for meaningless memories,
Their insignificance speaks to me
like culture shock when on holiday.

Effy Stonem's eyes pierce mine;
Mesmerized by irides the quality of sky.

and I was sinking
into the fathomless dark gyres
of his coal-black eyes

summer enormously frail fringed and golden
summer arguing with timidity
with youth and tangled
laughter gargling
low streets strung
lights mellifluously
straddle amberly the
nape of silently
and beginning
suddenly light
over asphalt
springs leaping
the mountains over
and
        SpLaSh!irides
                                 of
      3 petals and 3 drooping sepals
    glow gently
   caressed
                          at
       handless *******
       white

               ,

     .

         ,


.

It has been dark
It has been very dark
And I thought
That maybe
It was the end
For me

How was I going to go on?
I wondered
You were the brightest light
That my eyes had ever seen
And I followed you
Until you blinded me

I walked on and on
Not knowing the path
That I was going down
So I looked up
Even if the rays
Of your intensity
Still burned my irides

The stars were out

When skies cry, /
I dare not doubt /
For I know every tear has meaning, /
& not one of them is forgotten: /
Tenuous, airy, heady, divine, sublime. /

He raises me to heights empyreal, supernal /
When I have ascended triumphal arcadian skies /
I fathom the redolent reverie has not ended, /
Rather, I am one /
With all things. /

Crystalline, intemerate, pearlescent /
His glistening irides /
They gleam, they shimmer /
With a luminosity that is interstellar: /
Divo! /

Every morn he awakens me anew /
Reminding me that I still possess life, love, liberty, /
& embrace! /
With boundless freedom, /
I unfurl the wings to soar. /

The clairron voice of The Sovereign of Songbirds awakens me every morn. /
The musicality within, /
I fathom it /
Will never leave me. /
It cascades upon me incessantly. /

(—Se' lah )

And what happens to the teacups after we've left?
Clinking, clanging at the table;
carried, catapulted, cleaned.
Do they know of our lips that tasted of each other,
or things said, unsaid?
Where do eight years go?
Just, ****!!
― gone.
Or still occurring
in folds between our conscious blinks, our separate times midst now and then.
Do you and I exist again?
and again, and again?
Crossing the street again;
in the grass, under the blanket,
at the park again?
Are we kissing
again?
The lights and the people,
brown irides and darker pupils of this stranger,
and I,
round and round on this merry-go-round
― it's déjà vu.
Am I in the 'Again'?
Maybe déjà vu is Again, after all.
I'm at the beach once more;
they've built new houses.
You must've changed as well;
built new houses.
But I only remember old handwriting,
legs on legs, eating at 5am, icecube dragged across my skin;
I remember you in Agains.
Clinking, clanging at the table,
our teacups.
carried, catapulted, cleaned,
brought again ―
Maybe they
have seen ghosts of us
over again.

Pitch my Eyes Darker with a Wishful Prayer,
God ! Gratify that I evoke with the Aurora Surprises of Her Translucent Smile..
My Eyes may fail to Irides, If it does not find the answer's to your Hidden Smile..
Turns to be the Face of an Opaque Cloud, When I Arouse to see you Color Bloomed..
''O Beauty, Made So Beautiful", Baby You make me disappear when you appear Beautifully..
Feels Enormous, When a portion of Her Face is Cradled Close to my Heart..
Naughty-Sweet Wings seems Featherless when it feels like You are my World..
Part of me as my Better Half & You being the remaining Half of mine will be a Love Balled to be written About You & Me..
Would my hands be the Rim of an Bohemien Glass So to hold your Lips when a Sweet-Drop Rolls down through your Chin..
Your Scarlet Winks hits me with a Scar that swapped me out from the Dawn Breaking Blues..

Such Beautiful Morning's..
Happens to be you..
Perfect as they could be..