On her chopping block,
Spawning ad hoc.
Of empty double-talk,
Wife, your name is
Self-styled wise hawk.
Once I was a child who loved to dream
I wanted that happy ending for the little mermaid
and so I rid the damsel who stood in the way
and then I waited for the prince
to remember the mermaid and love her again,
but he never did,
and they both died sad and heartbroken.
Meanwhile, from my dungeon sprung the damsel
now transformed into a fully fledged witch
who howled with rage whenever love approached
always appearing as the ugly stepsisters
the evil stepmother, the evil queen
taunting me in my dreams every night
thanking me for spawning her into life.
just thinking like a young child again..
happy endings don't come true when you have to hurt someone else to make them happen
The blues they say
Came from singing call and response
In the fields and when they'd go to church they
Injected the spiritual which led to Gospel.
From there, the spawning of Blues and Jazz
And it was fascinating, it was The Birth of Cool
Muddy Water's said it "You know the blues got soul."
He claimed the "Blues had a baby
And they named the baby Rock and Roll."
Black American music remained on the cutting edge
With Soul, Funk and Disco, R&B, Hip-hop and Rap.
The world owes much to many great American musicians,
,But particularly the Black, they've done it with style and grit.
Dripping from the cracks in my heart
Coursing through my veins
The excess seeps into my lungs
And I can't breathe
I watch you carefully
Trying desperately to read you
But like a million books in foreign tongue
I cannot follow the lines
Enough to reach a valid conclusion
The distance between us is stiff
My body aches with the tension of this anxiety
And though I avoid eye contact mostly
Sometimes I let myself slip
While it felt so wrong before
I'm learning to love myself
And embrace this capacity
To love multiple people at once
I'm slowly accepting my feelings for you
Swimming alongside my love for her
And here we are
Waiting patiently for what?
We have the perfect chance at something
And we embrace every minute of it
Every flirty text that makes my heart race
Every tear spawning from our partners' faces
The beautiful distance between us
Without the pressure and rush often associated with love
We sacrifice our energy on loved ones who don't understand
The true extent to which some humans can love
We endure the pain of supporting confused partners
So we can spend that extra time getting ready
To look cute for a simple conversation on my couch
I'm happy this way
Free from the socialized constraints of monogamy
Allowed to feel freely
To love freely
And regardless of where this experience leaves us
I'm going to embrace every opportunity it offers
And though our path is terrifyingly unmarked
I couldn't feel more at peace with it
summer rivers surge
onward push, life's final quest
banks silver linings
spawning generations new
natures wonders on display
body lithe, strong
trained to strike
too dashing for peeling paint
waiting in country town
place to whizz past
road to tourist hub
how does his tale read
did he pay
struck the frame
holder of *****
for scenes of his mother
stain his every stance
grabbing mail swiftly
ahead of arrival
no more the crouching lad
bounce off walls
as mother's body slumps
broken bottle scars
left to clean up the mess
as he leaves for school
fictional possibility -
with deep respect
If hearts knew sense then would the heart flow love
For prior to that streaming lease of joy
A sense will warn, as duty bounds behove;
Foretelling pain; that'll meet the heart's deploy.
And renders love reversal for a while
The broken down duration known by none,
Is here that sense would leave the heart to rile;
To chance the pain or curb where love had won.
Ah! Idle hearts are spawning grounds for hate
One taste of bile deters to love; from most
Then spite of sense would love rejoice to mate
And any lesser cause; a morbid host.
If heart's took sense, then still would lover's glow
For better than; what loveless hearts do know.
I know you still can't breathe
And your ribs burn
But I love it
When I finish laughing first
Because for a moment
I am the insomniac
Enthralled by the lucid dreamer
(your eyelids flutter)
I am the Catholic
Entranced by the shameless drunk
(your hiccups slur)
And your giggles pop like
Bubble bath and boiled syrup
And everything is funny
Everything is spine-chillingly funneled
Your sprite and shrieks nosedive
Into my bloodstream
Spike my heartstrings
And your cheeks
Swell and splotch and squish
Into those sparkling eyes
Until they gush
And you try to stop it, but
Like gagging on lake water
Not until every sprinkle gets spewed
And baby, there is so much
So much beauty
Spawning inside of you
So much to share, and I starve for it
I soar with it
And for a moment
A dreamer stirs the city
A drunkard saves the world
The children stump the wisemen
As you shake the cobwebs
From your ribs
For one more second
Reality is fragile
Love is tangible
And nothing else is
you duck your head when you laugh
i witnessed whiplash
What can the spawns of Ahriman say, that hasn't been said before
What can Angra Mainyu linage do that hasn't been done
Children of Jahi the ***** fathered by The Opposer himself
When the Ghost of ghosts spawned his offsprings in Hades
Did he not promise them the world and declared it his
Did he not remove the dusts of damnation from them
And send them down to continue his dominion of fire
Once the second exalted but twisted from his arrogance
He faced down the Omnipotent Light and sought to usurp
From thence on banished in eternal shame he remains
The Ghost of Ghosts spawning his demons and ghouls
The pretenders without light or hues washed in satyr's milk
Disciples of extraction of the purity of the sinless inoncents
Henceforth they seek ******* over the joys of Creation
Killers that **** with all deeds and actions the Glories of Light
Ghosts who opened Pandora before Pandora came alive
Who plundered and ravaged as their master solely intended
To destroy all the Magnificence of the Omnipotent Creator
Who stands unequalled Pure and Mighty in His Golden Realm
Ghost of ghosts fights on earth with his spawns multiplying
Master of wickedness doling out false knowledge to ghosts
Covering them with false beauty and riches in ****** minds
Take your poisoned rewards and destroy to live like kings
For I make you children of destruction and ghosts without souls
Soon you will all come and burn forever in undying molten fire
Armies of words gather in my head
To march so boldly onto the page.
They work their wonders
Who knows how?
Why they pick me as their channel
For their landing craft
I’ll never know.
Some accident of birth:
Genetic fluke –
For which I take no credit –
Makes me nectar to these ants
That line themselves into verse.
Compulsion drives me to write
As salmon must jump those water falls
To return to their spawning grounds.
I have to speak, or rather type:
No matter what,
Whether good or bad.
Is there a cure for this affliction of mine?
Can I ever stop myself from writing?
I very much doubt it.
© PB 16\11\2018.
A congenital affliction.
Inquiry: Where did that intense weather of feeling go?
Hypothesis: Fallow pastures heal, spawning growth and creativity.
Experiment: Break down finite components of the past into a unit of singularity. Flood with equanimity.
Observation: The wounded child emerges into a tenuous echo of you.
Conclusion/Retrospect: It was nothing more than bad acting.
Sara Fielder © Sep 2018
salmon are spawning
millions taking one last run
in wonder I wade in
— The End —