"pressings" poems
#
*You make yourself easy to be seen..
by someone like me.
The only thing I would think you would find
as surprising
Is why it has taken this long
for a beautiful Thoroughbred in Spirit
such as you
to finally be seen
for exactly who it is that you are
Free from assessment or judgement,
I would venture so far to say
that the greater central part
of who it is that you are,
is (sadly so) tremendously lonely.
Again, not a judgement at all,
but an assessment of life in general.
A lover like me would be perfect,
but I am (as you could guess)
spiritually volatile in how deeply I push--
..Even within the normal give and take
of everyday things. Sometimes even
one well placed word can bring one
off-center and into (and towards)
an even deeper part of their own journey.
Most gorgeously-luscious
Thoroughbreds such as yourself
usually pick less 'challenging' partners
in order to have a somewhat more
'stable' home life..
..But sadly with that also, develops
a relationship where the deeper,
more exctasy-based and driven
parts of you
are left with no choice
but to become, dormant..
in order to protect the 'beautiful-luscious'
within you from slipping into despair
--Until one day,
what you have been avoiding
(longing for) most,
shows his ******* unorthodoxically-untethered,
brazen attitude (and perfectly clear eyesight)
and suddenly you become seen.
There is absolutely no way
with some one like me that you..
(within all of your Wondreous,
Deep-feeling Glory)
would not eventually be seen.
I urge you to take every single
part of it all, in..
(the very thing you were "built" to do)..
Even if in doing so, you were almost
continually brought right up to
(and so very often, "over") the edge
Gifted fingers, helping the body find
its own form of release,
when the pressings of Spirit, mixed
with the deeply-Penetrating View that
Love carries within every single part
of itself..
..Those gracious fingers are not 'up to no good'..
but instead..
(by the very Deeply-Understanding
nature of Love itself)..
both they.. and the whole
beautiful process of Release..
is deemed, Holy.
The physical human body becomes
pushed way too far within its limited
ability to contain, the Wholly
uncontainable Ectsatic Pulsings
of Love's true Agenda.
Perfection knows that and says
(so do I)..
"How could she not?"
Be gracious to yourself, girl.
You have wanted to live
within the Beautiful Realms,
worthy of your calling.*
Welcome Home ❤
#
Aug 17, 2023
Aug 17, 2023 at 12:59 PM UTC
I cannot do this.
I fear.
I fear repetition.
Repetition that I crave, yet also repulses me at the same time.
An internal battle between neurons and ventricles and atriums.
My chest burst open today when I recognized the face
under that mocked brim and,
for two moments,
the Doppler effect was just something scientists invented to make themselves feel better.
But it all came crashing down without
the connection of soul windows.
Blue? Brown?
Who remembers.
Remember is such a simply complicated word.
I fear the anger
and the holes in the wall
and the murderous screams.
and ripping church out of ears and heart and mind.
cause that hurts.
I fear November.
My best and worst two days in heaven.
And how badly I would...do...want that to happen again.
Next I fear the eyeless,
lipstick,
lover of hands.
The shallow one with a faux deep soul.
The hypocrite.
Her acid words that burn through screens.
They rip away the moment they penetrate my skin and touch my heart.
I fear her disapproval.
because she will disapprove,
this I know.
Silver tongue like the snake.
Venom pointed at me, her sister.
Betrayed.
So she will disapprove and that means much.
Then I fear giving half of my heart,
that is his,
away.
Well, it wouldn't be half, because is it still dipped deep in love.
So a sixteenth of my heart-his heart- and that is still much.
For us.
It is just a crush. and that is it.
But isn't that how everything starts?
Tender pressings on your heart until they become the pulses and beats and poundings and crushing sensations.
Once.
Once.
Only once that has happened to me.
Still is.
And even if it is unrequited,
I fear losing that.
I fear fearing.
I fear rejection.
I fear losing the one thing that I care about.
and I fear not finding something.
Or finding it to only lose it in a few months time.
So I will refrain.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
#
Someone please tell me, that
..The true Art of Love is more
than the self-centered, 'incestuous'
form of love, shown
within what the Modern world
refers to as "Romantic love"..
aw **** please tell me it is more
Romantic love says this--
*"You are 'of value' to me because I love you"
"You are 'of value' to me because you are in my life"
"You are 'of value' to me because you are mine"*
And after the 'bliss-filled' romantic love
***** the bed..
the only value that remains is through the residual,
soon to be diluted and washed out by displacement--
..Either that of a new self-centered based 'filling'
or that of the re-placement of "value-image"
with that, brought about through the all-too-ready
and internally-available Gaslighting process
So please, please explain it to me just how wonderfully
"romantic' love can truly ever aid in the healing process..
someone.. please.
. . . . . . .
*Alone she sits in her room, waiting.
The atoms of the air,
carry both sides of the story--
The coldness and the warmth
the closeness, and the distance
..the empty-black
followed by the Sky-filled Blue
Someone please tell me, just who
helped this little-one to see
that the way out..
is the way, through?
Protected to the point of nearly dying
Insulation is isolation to the bone
(she is crying, crying, crying)
On a Prayer mat, facing East;
a grounded soul is flying
(but flying so very all alone)
There is a Chaste, and a Purity
Borne separated
from the Un-doings of man..
Void of all walls,
there is a susceptibility
Yet also a wide-Opening
to the pressings of the Ache
There has been a waiting
to the point of near Death
A look in Patient eyes
(One that separates me
from my breath)*
***Not all are so protected
from the Fallen love of man***
*..Not all have almost died
so all alone in their room;*
protected
*From that empty kind of love
leading to an empty, empty Death*
#
Aug 30, 2023
Aug 30, 2023 at 1:08 PM UTC
i carefully cut branches from a cherry tree
its blooms in all stages
first vibrant red
buds aching to erupt
and then pinked
full, open with petals that flutter in a warm breeze
until the white comes
with age in wisdom and prepared to relinquish all
these three sprigs I weave together
graft and plant
until none could tell one from the other
when it grew
with posture that could catch
the exhales of all the men taller than me
i clipped another branch
bigger than my thumb
and began to whittle
an instrument
strong enough to grace
with charming melody
the sweet aroma
the shade
the blossom pressings that now adorn my wall
and with each stroke
and shaving peeled
i realized that i was reaching your core
and that soon you would splinter
break even
so i got to the heart of you
and stayed there
shaving a finer point
until i could poke myself
and draw blood
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
The love we made was enervating,
you rancorous pooch!
I cannot suppress my deleterious desires!
Oh! How I hold your face in my disdainful mind!
When I was waiting to be vindicated from your legal pressings,
upon the cold, stone floor of my cell, I wrote an anecdote
of the pain you caused in my chest
(with that knife).
Mundane human, you posses spurious desires!
You have given me false hope,
which has led to many adversities!
I may have been impetuous to leap upon you with that knife,
but you were the one who walked away unharmed.
Let us proceed with our impetuous plans...
x x suicide pact
will write later
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:55 AM UTC