~for she who will know~

the Mother of Muses came to me

on bended knee
come for to confess
a lie so grand it boggled
the heart

we bring you nothing more
than what you already possess,
the jewels of rose gold are emplaced
in your dual ventricles,
the veins stained with blue green sapphires to
feed the right and left hemispheres,
where the emerald heat and the yellow gold,
raw melt the alpha word-finery awaiting,
the pinpointed pinprick of an eyed glimpse

to release the oxidizing words atmospheric
we are not needed, just proceeders,
*** stirrers? no. *** watchers? oh yes.

all contained within,
this then, the art of the human heart,
where the external stains rest awaiting,
completing, complimenting, coming
to fruition in a reforged new birthing

see how the child looks with adoration,
perceiving the art of the mothers heart,
the spilling of time at the precise moment
when the exchange is as long as an eye wink
and as short as an entire lifetime

We the Muses, not teachers, nor inspirers,
just peddlers, collecting thimbles of words,
polished with hued syllables of tarnish,
experienced watchers discerning the exacting,
the interactive interactions of the cells,
the DNA concoctions of singers and sinners,
priests and the unforgivable, trying to tie
what deserves untying, which is an everlasting
poem that needs, laughing, an original act
of the art of the heart, yours, permission to say
The End

11:14pm
nyc
Sept. 18, 2019

i will never be skull crushed in a white powder prison
im free chicken passed out to the home seeking
because home is just where you put your ****
forget about where my heart is
its been sliced melted and reforged
flames that lick to the center of a tootsie pop
making the blood boil so the candy coating bursts of an inside
less than visually appealing is how i view my skeletal structure
didn't stop it from poking out when i jumped from your window

keep your friends close and enemies at a distance
because regardless the season of life no other purpose not dipped in deviousness
gives rise to rational of keeping the damage in arms reach
its not unlike the scissor strokes dancing a tap show on the wrist
i just never saw a reason to it
then again i can't see life like you do

my eyes get stuck on the things i see beauty in
which is mostly this new girl
sometimes the scenery  
then these flashes of a easy time
regardless
my irreverence stems from deep inadequacies
beg the question to forget the answer
and to the east i walk
lets find a way

******* smile crooked syntax
twisted fingers
Broken bones with splintered ends
but where they stopped grew empty friends
broken people, battered souls,
rotting dreams in empty holes
ice cold screams crawl up
and tear
dead flesh on the edge of the freeway
those lost by the wayside
They lay under broken streetlights, flickering neon crosses
rictus smiles
canvassed eyes
late night ships that dont touch the water as they sail by
I can't fix them
they wont sew together, they cannot heal
can't be reforged like broken steel
but I can't hide
although I've tried
the jagged edges of the world

I gave you the steel -
Hopes, thoughts, fears,
Reforged,
Honed to jagged spears,
Turned against the flesh
From which they were wrought.
But blood won't flow
From the piercings
Anymore.
The corpse, complaisant, yields
From a lifetime of wounds.
Those razor-edged words
Drained joy
Like the ******
Of a shattered wine glass
Once cut painful and red-
Nails pressed through skin -
We veiled those marks
From family and friends
While I learned to hide
Behind vacant eyes,
Mute lips,
Mind dreaming of water
Running from oily feathers
Off a duck
Imagining words were rain
And ears coated with
The magic stuff
That would shed the pain
If only I believed hard enough.
Tomorrow
I could find another smile,
Know
The world hadn't really changed
Much,
Find new words to alter
Anger to love.
How did psyche falter -
Those few unshed drops
In incidental increments or
By catastrophe,
A failure like a levee
Rupturing, leaving land awash -
Doesn't really matter.
Frame now basks in your cascade,
Absorbing and accepting,
Soul long lost now wandering
Wondering when will body follow,
Missing the mate with whom to share
That steel from which love
Should be made.

What is our society if not a copycat catastrophe
          A cold-hearted calamity of blind hindsight
Severed chains reforged in the flames of minimum wage
          How we herald the heretic

Free is the slave who detaches their arms and legs
          To gift kings their reign
Jeweled towers of bone reach to the sky
          And devour the progress of our connective open roads

What is prosperity absent a shared purpose
          Like a brain held apart from its own heart
Human history imprisoned on a page
          Ink-stained chronicle of our original sin

Thinking we can get where were going
          By forgetting all we have been
Each obstacle a handcrafted impediment
          Dinosaur dynasty doomed to irrelevance

Bore by fire
Born in the flame
Scorched reptilian veins

Blessed in loving pyres
Kindred to an extinguish line
Reforged in the coals of time

Kept secretly hidden in human blood
Merely waiting to awaken the dragon flood

To course through transmogrification 
Becoming a most terrible manifestation

To avenge those held within love
Darkest fears swoop down from above

Should have seen a pleasure caused pain
Now prepare to burn in the flames!

Just how many times.
Can one seize those moments.
The kind that shine in the darkest depths of depression.
A peridot of true resilience.
Stricken with the pressures of earths resistance.
Swallowed and spat out.
And yet.
The brilliant contours never faded.
A gem that seems to compliment any disenchanted form.
Priceless is a meaning longing to be with its presence.
Regards shan't be wasted.
For the world may wether this artifact.
But for one to be blessed with the cleansing light it holds.
Shall be reforged.
Stripped of gashes and ware.
Into a relic of wondrous.
Ponderous power.
Calamity may call.
Cities may even fall.
Cadaverous holes and all.
But.
Every desert hides an oasis.
Forever waiting.
For that one to traverse all the adverse.
And drink in.
All it has to offer.

It's strange to ponder about just what brought this revelation about.
They key now swings silently around my neck.
Lulling the air about into a mirage of sorts.
Yet as I frantically rub my eyes for clarity.
The image stayed vibrant and resilent.
Although it seemed to have aged in the time since I first looked upon it.
Claw like marks gouged the frame.
It seems to have been reforged.
With blood and steel.
Giving it a cold and bitter demeanor.
Yet as I place my hand on the weathered scars.
Am I filled with a roaring zeal.
I bellow a battle cry that reverberates through time itself.
This typhoon of emotion surrounds my senses.
Dizzy from the constant swirling and repetitive motions.
I pray for a salvation that still seems so far off.
But giving up now would bare no fruit.
So I greet it with a smile and a reinvigorated rage.
And await the moment that the calm calls for such renown.

Within a shell of ice a heart resides all cool and blue and stable of might with constant attention to make it nice, with spit and polish till narry a worry brought forth the inner light.

The people who saw fell about in worry with envy on their lips. They picked and they poked but couldn't land a blow. They thought and they fought to brake apart the yoke.

Eventually landing a strike that broke it from whole. Taking a piece they shaped it from true, reforged it a new, it sparked and spangled but turned all red.

In anger in spite it lost its own head, shreaking it pieced all a head. Falling it fell, down it seemed to hell. Trapped within a body a prisam of lead.

Forever and more it's lost to lore, the voyage that once was will never be any more.

Eyes sealed to the world,
Darkness. I hear you breathing.
behind me. Your hot breath on my back.
A breath exploding with want.
And then touch. Your tongue enters my mouth. Hungry.
A touch, and I know it's you.
I can sense you quivering. Or is it me?
We play again and again
But when I enter you I am reborn.
Always reforged by your fire.

Rules,
Superficial rules we create
We confine ourselves within boxes
Answering a desperate plea for order
Some semblance of control, of understanding,
Shape, within shapeless mass, shapeless space
We build cages, chains, interlocked, intertwined

Yet, a common phrase
“Think outside of the box”
We acknowledge,
This cage
And in many cases it can be good
But we also acknowledge,
That to truly come up with something great, unique, to leave a
Lasting mark
One must think outside of the box left behind by our predecessor’s
Thoughts outside of their box
Which form our box

It’s like

Understand how to read notes
Before you compose your own

Know the color wheel
Before you experiment

Read books,
Before your write one

Maybe that’s where successful people come from,
People who manage to learn about their box
Well, before they manage to
Break it’s boundaries

And each minute, each second, each millisecond, each
This is happening again, and again
Our cages being broken
Reforged, anew

And through the internet, the media, mordern communications
Knowledge of this new box, these new boundaries
Can be spread

To pique another child or adult’s interest
Until the boundaries are broken
Once again
A cycle
On repeat

Until finally-



Or,
Is it like the universe,
Ever expanding,
Infinitely large
Without an end?

I don’t believe in the 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺
Of love, of teenage love.

But you do.

When I’m around you,
When I’m 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 to you,
All the doubts disappear.

But when it’s just me
I worry, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚
That I’ll 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 you,
I’ll 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 you,
Because you thought
That we were made of steel.

You don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that our chances are 𝘭𝘰𝘸
Of being high-school sweethearts
That make it to the other side.

You don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that when I think of our 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦,
We part ways and come back again.
You don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that I think steel melts
And then can be reforged.

I don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 if I want you to.

I feel so 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦 sometimes,
But I swear you’re even more 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦
Than me.

I want to protect you.

But I don’t believe in the 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺
Of love, of teenage love.

I don’t believe in 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

But I believe in 𝒖𝒔.

Truth be told though her vassals reportedly died,
To the last man, cut down by voice and guided steel,
Left floating dismembered and forgotten,
In a duet of song and venom.
Reality spoke as a contrarian.
For you see those flowing jade robes, with emerald armor beneath.
Decided it would be wise, to don a different disguise,
I can still keep them fed, if only modestly,
My royal blood is ours, for all my family,
I am house Venom now, the last Ivy keeper.
Since boyhood brought them to me, they've graciously accepted,
What was given to them was power, it made them stronger, wiser,
Incisive enough to slice as we do through theories and viewpoints,
Less often steel upon throat than words upon logic,
Felling disobedience before points could be taken back and,
Reforged into rallying force to bring the hordes against us.

So much faces
but the same eyes?
So different
from one second to the next?
Like clockwork at the day,
like a storm of chaos at the night,
like a sister at best friends side,
like a warrior to the rest of the world?
To hard to be the girl to love?
Understand that much, that ya need to love you?

I'm sorry.. it's me -
It's what i am ,or what we where..
'cause i was more than one..
broken as child,
grown in pieces,
splitted by pain,
reforged to one..

...but ever stay what i am..
..a guardian angel with a soul like a prism

laying barren and void,
stripping away flesh,
becoming whole,
pray the earth accepts my bones

the touch of the ether, a memory
fleeting, shrouded, foreign
there is no hope here
there is no light here
buried above ground
lesser than the soil
ever blessed to become the flora
a link in the chain reforged

here now later gone before forgotten
all of want none of have some of lost
enough never too much always too little
too often
time wasted time waiting time regained
too late
intimacy short lived distance prolonged presence
of absence
heart emptied heart broken heart reforged
illusions clung to truth ignored the everyday
mundane
god dead god reborn god turned to money
past repeating future destroyed present
slipping away
a touch remembered a bond abandoned an idea
betrayed
a day alone a night alone forever sleepwalking
a dream a nightmare the blink of an eye
earth burns oceans poisoned permafrost melts
a fascist here a fascist there fascists everywhere
random kindness calculated malice endemic
indifference
an old oppression a new form of terror an eternal
struggle
freedom abstract cages carried wings torn off
here now later gone before forgotten
all of want none of have some of lost
enough never too much always too little
too often
time wasted time waiting time regained
too late

Bounty the heads of the stoic and strong
Cold to the bone though you know you are wrong
Laughing with the glee at the suff'ring of others
Too bad that's not how you steal others lovers
Pressure so mighty that surely you've cracked
Sanity so broken its not coming back
Building, surmounting, you idle for pleasure
But race for a chance to claim its just good measure
Butcher and glutton a swine is your pride
Taking, not giving, they plead with their eyes
Empty the pockets and open the wine
The blood, when it rains
Does it blind your eyes?
Stolen, unbroken, and reforged to mount
Seldom dispensing the justice you tout
Guilty or not,  they all face the swing
Star-crossed lovers? You'll let them sing
Tender words dance,  at his faithful breath
Knowing a sin he never could commit
Oh how you laughed? Mocked him with glee
Burning and lynching is enjoyed in degrees
Torment inside and you long for the gallows
The home that you've known since your loves been so shallow
Your stricken with glee when the families flee
And maddened with haste when the court files a case
Your only friends are those who shall end
A hangmans brittle heart, formed to a boulder
No regrets in killing no penchant to set free
"It's following orders" now "It's truly me."

i have resolved
to let these moments stab me,
teach me, by reaching my core
and harming me.
it will carve me into something
daring and emboldened;
perhaps i will be smelted,
reforged--
still stronger all the same,
especially without you.

Years’ worth in our days swirl in our thoughts of lovely hands clasped in ours with no resolve of ever letting go.

Though the fates and sanguine melancholy conspire to break the bonds nothing can keep this sight from being enthralled

shall he, happiness dancing waltz with the sea, ever forget?

The tempest-swept shore of unyielding grace remains true to the beacon, be it in the peaks or prairies; a promise,

no matter how trampled still blossoms without the acquiescence of seasons, be they winter or spring,

until the day a tombstone is offered and a coat rack for weariness to hang,

no smiles will eternally be wasted on a frown as is with fear will be on Pennywise the clown.

We are here, and we are now until we become yesterday, our hearts unbowed

And yet, long after light has left times eyes, and last fogging breath has been drawn,

the echoes resound, love, unyielding, seared into the skin of eternity.

Strands of flesh, a promise, binding lives that once strobed like starlight, the universe chants with shared joys, sorrows, and dreams.

For every stumble, every fracture, every tear that pelted our time, we rise, reforged in the fires of devotion’s heat.

Love is no fleeting gale but the tide that shapes continents, despite the world’s cruel dissonance, harmony prevails.

And when the final curtain falls on this fleeting stage, let it be known we did not merely survive but thrived, kindled.

my bones that have now carried worlds
are frankensteined bits of shells and shrapnel glued
together with calcium paste
and slathered in blue dye
to make everything look new---

I was so whole.

I have now already fractured
in every predictable place,
re-engineered and retrofitted my consciousness with
seismic dampers
and levees

and I am so strong, now.

how does it feel to know that it was you who broke me?
there is no one---
not even you could do what you did to me
again

and it feels good to be a god but mostly infuriating
to think of the fragile thing I used to be
for you, when you knew me.

I haven't seen a waterfall in 4 years,
my re-grafted skin has lost all its electric-sensitivity
and my heart still pumps blood but I reforged my arteries into metal,
which keeps me alive better than before but I
don't remember the last time I
felt anything.

Coins, Pentacles, The suitor of stability and groundedness.
Grounded like the plants that spring forth from the raw earth, like the cleansing stream flows in the pasture as the shepard attempts to heard his sheep.
The heard counts itself and drifts into a rest with no end.
His pasture, his cane, he takes me to the lake,
to look out at the water.
Only to discover a drowned sheep, lead astray by the false tranquility of the sea.
The shepard stares at the waves the waterlogged sheep was trapped underneath, and understands.
The Shepard dries off the sopping lamb with the fruits of his labor.


Swords want to conquer, to break in the untamable mare, its blade yearns for a wielder, for victory.
The blade's metal is molten, soon to be cooled by the calm waters of the cup as moonlight gleams off the hilt.
Within the grotto's hidden dirt pathway, the sword bends, piercing the heart of it's holder, but blood never was spilt.
It whispers of the eminent dangers, lurking just beyond the brush.

Wands, Rods, Batons.
Each want to cast a spell, but are fearful of it's effects.
And sacred texts collect dust, their token of age, never to be read by another.
A thin layer of dust, is what cleaves the truth.

Cups. Empty? Or full?
The liquid held within finds a momentary stillness so soon to be interrupted by the thirsty mouths of beggars, but the cup refills.
The copper forged within a kiln of fire and chaos, only to be treated as mear iron by all except the poor that drink from it.
The enchanted cup comes with a single proverb, a warning, which is engraved within it's metallic surface.
"To ye who's lips caress thyn skin, What thee take out wilt beest putteth back in, if ye life is what thee truly cherish, then replenish what thee take or thyn shalt surely perish."

The coins gingle as copper meets gold, the sword sharpens against the cup as the hilt and handle hold no company, the cups waters polish the birch, that in turn will one day give birth to the wands of the future.
But without the cups grasp the coins have no place to be held, without the cups fine sheen the sword becomes dull and chipped, and without the nurturing waters the cup provides and the birch withers and dies.
This is the truth: The cup holds and sharpens and waters.

By never at once

As the Coins, Sword and Wands feel more content,
The cup is fearful that it will never filled. Fearful of being reforged, being repurposed, again.

But the cup refuses to be contorted into a shape that fits their desires.

The disks want to be grasped.

The swords want to sharpen.

The wands want to be watered.

But the cup still yearns for the sea, an endless source of fulfilment and possibility, and with it, the future, far in the horizon.

Retreating from an angry self
To the mountains I sought, Contemplation cliff awaited me
for the spirit blossoming within. What grabbed a hold of my soul?
To be a new man, reforged by those who surrounded him.
From those who had nothing,
gave him insight into
what it truly means
to be alive
to live for others
and seek what is above.

I am a piece of dough being reshaped
I am a piece of steel being reforged
I am a rock rounded out by a gushing stream
I am a rose being clipped and pruned

My enemies protect their ways
They challenge anyone who asks, "what are you doing?"
They deflect any correction
and continue stubbornly in their paths.

I said to myself I will be alone until an event
that will put me back in the right direction.
As I wait I am tormented by visions
and dreams - I wish I was dead.

The wicked in their pride want to cast low
Giving no thought to their victims
They are like jagged rocks below a cliff
or dogs growling and bearing teeth.

Those who will not heed instruction
or give way to slow changes
will be changed suddenly
their lives will end in calamity.

I have made these mistakes
but I live to tell the tale
My testimony is valid
and I will share my life story to anyone who listens.

Not a brief candle
But rather a splendid torch

Southern sweet tea
Rocking chair front porch

Intense is the Fire
But it does not scorch

Excalibur
Sword to be reforged