He gazed at the sky in its entire wrath
and at the sea churning below.
The stars nestled above life’s fury
were too far away to shine upon his brow.
If he flew through the tempest of dreams,
his wings might tear and end his flight
And if he dived into the fathomless deep,
He might be devoured by the eternal night.
A thousand voices had whispered
that there was naught in the unknown.
But the world that he was familiar with,
didn’t feel like his own.
He was swept away like a mote of dust,
by the mighty brooms of fate.
And on he flew like a dainty dandelion,
shedding his hopelessness, fear and hate.
Both the storm and his starlit soul
wrestled for endurance...for survival,
The storm died, the soul survived
and he rejoiced at the suns arrival.
The wind had hit him incessantly,
Fragmenting all his weaknesses.
All he was after toil and turmoil,
was a beautiful, hard rock without any recesses.
Long after, lying on the last isle,
like a statue sculpted out of stone,
He was glad that it was him, not the others,
that had received a battering from the unknown.

i've known a summer storm
come sudden
out of blue clouds

i've rushed for cover
and prayed
against
bolts of lightning
that walked too near

i've watched the skies
waiting
for the winds that might come close
and devour
me

i've known a tempest
that rages in a heart
and wails so loud
that sunlight can't
shine through

There is no shelter
from the storm
no rest

seasons rage
and the storm wears me thin

there must be
rest

Her eyes a tempest,
Cold words dropping like water,
  .  .  .  Shivering in rain.

In the midst of turmoil, I find solace in silence,
Battling against this unyielding pain, I strive to stay calm.
Dark clouds persistently shadow my path,
As the rain keeps pouring, unrelenting, never-ending.

Each thunderous boom resonates within my core,
Causing tremors of sadness, shaking me to my very soul.
A shiver runs through me, tears blending with rainwater,
Emotions quivering in my voice, struggling to keep pace.

My thoughts race, a tempest howling like the wind,
Twirling relentlessly, with no end in sight, no victory to claim.
Tears flow freely, blending with the storm's cascade,
Gazing out into the tempest, it echoes my perception of the world.

With each bright flash of lightning, a new perspective emerges,
And gradually, the thoughts begin to slow, like the breeze subsiding.
The thunder's roar diminishes to a low grumble,
And the scent of rain calms, soothing my senses.

I kneel upon the ground, finding peace within my mind,
A gentle wind brushes against my back, providing support.
Donning a mask upon my face, I prepare to return,
To a world that feels fractured and fragmented.

But I know, deep down, that storms eventually cease,
They run their course, and peace finds its way back to me.
So, with renewed strength and resilience, I face the turmoil,
Knowing that this too shall pass, and I will endure once more.

ACT ONE

That night a savage tempest raged
the lightning flashed, the thunder roared
And boomed as loud as cannon-fire
While rain in giant torrents poured

But in his room, the prince just yawned
all tucked up in his feather-bed
With perfumed pillows made of silk
and cherubs swirling overhead

He did not think about the storm
or all the soaking serfs outside
The only thing he cared about
was how to bag himself a bride

And though he'd travelled far and wide
he could not find a maid to wed
For each of them just paled beside
the bride that lived inside his head

This girl she had to be, you see,
a "real" princess of bluest blood
Whose lineage stretched back until
that misty age before the Flood

He'd hunted her as if she were
the greatest prize a man could snag
To mount upon his wall just like
a roe deer or a trophy-stag

But still he went to bed alone
until he grew so tired he swore
He would not wed a real princess
unless she knocked upon his door

                ACT TWO

Well soon that knock came loud and clear-
so loud the prince fell out of bed
And there she stood inside the hall
a real princess, or so she said

Her hair was dripping wet and yet
it shone as bright as leaf of gold
And like a young gazelle she was,
though blue and shivering with the cold

She seemed a Tudor miniature,
with such a sweet and pearly face
It was as if a jeweller's hand had
set each feature in its place

But when the Queen came rushing down
to view her through her gold lorgnette
The girl twitched like a butterfly
ensnarled in an explorer's net

This queen she seemed to be the kind
you find in children's fairy-tales
A stiff, white ruff around her neck
and bony hands with claws for nails

A Gorgon in a diadem
with beady eyes and puffed-up hair
A dowager who could have turned
a man to stone with just one stare

And glaring through her opera-glass
with eyes of bloodshot sapphire-blue
She fixed the girl as if she were
A beast to gawp at in a zoo

"But is she real?" the old queen asked
she seemed to think the girl might be
An ignis fatuus or a ghost
and even poked her, just to see.

And so the royals hatched a plot
to see if she was who she said
They'd let the princess stay the night
and hide a pea inside her bed


                ACT THREE

The old queen led the princess through
a labyrinthine corridor
With peacocks staring from the walls
and tigers sprawled across the floor

Then showed her to a cosy room
with tapestries hung all around
A fire was popping in the hearth
and mossy rugs lay on the ground

The weary princess looked about
at all the gilded finery
The mirrors and the silk divans
the crystal and chinoiserie

And there, beneath the rafters, she
could see a bed piled up so high
With mattresses and blankets that
it seemed to tower to the sky

You'd think it would have been a dream
to lie on such a comfy heap
Instead the princess stirred all night
and did not get a wink of sleep

              ACT FOUR

But in the morning when she rose
and grumbled of her wakeful night
The prince seemed not to care a jot
and viewed her with a strange delight

"I've never tossed and turned so much
I'm black and blue," the princess said
"It seemed that something razor sharp
was trapped beneath me in the bed"

"A real princess! " rejoiced the queen,
for only a princess could be
Kept up all night for something quite
as trifling as a garden pea

The girl looked sheepish for a while
and then she said, "I must confess
I'm not, nor have I ever been,
what one could call a real princess.

I told you both a lie for I
was fearful if I did not say
That I was born of royal stock
you would have sent me on my way

The Queen turned pale and stared aghast
then viewed the girl through narrowed eyes
"You're nothing but a fraud!" she hissed
"A lowly peasant in disguise,"

            ACT FIVE

"But what is in a name?" the girl
asked, rising proudly to her feet
"That which we call a rose by any
other name would smell as sweet"

"The treasures that a person has
are not a measure of his worth
And he may be a king though he
is but a man of simple birth."

"Indeed, she's right," the prince agreed
"Who cares if she's of royal stock?
This talk of keeping bloodlines pure
is just a load of poppycock."

Besides this girl is more refined
than any royal I have met
She has no gems or castle for
a princess she is not... and yet

Her hair shines like a diadem
her eyes like jewels of emerald green
With her, for sure, I could fall more
in love than I have ever been."

                EPILOGUE
And so the two of them were wed....
much to the chagrin of the Queen

You were a one-sided
coin, like grief
of the dour moon-
righting the wrong.

Maybe I was not able
to recall your beautiful face.
O, Miranda send your
smiles some time, as the
tempest was reading for a fall.

A salt mountain
will break to teach you fidelity.
You may run, may not run.
One day nemesis will come
to ask your name.

On trampled leaves of time
a huge pachyderm roams,
to find its master.

I will wait in my half-cave.

Being alien on earth is not easy,
there are no precedents,
tell the true proof, troof,
the previous refugees …
all over the planet could seldom
leave a legacy of literature, as did the victors
in the famous wars where our father's
fought or died, in chains,
prison killed, always,
something
inside a man, who
refused to fight
for trading rights,
and owning rights and renting rights
and lending rights…
belonging, by law and holy writ none could read,
to the heirs of all that money loves… is an alien thought,
if you think it.
Reading counts as thinking here, line by line.

we ran and we survived… all of us.
we remember the stories our fathers told, I still sing the song.

… it was then, when we all was equal, none royal or bully.
it was then we was alienated, mindwise, we
was never the same at the story teller level,
mostly old warriors told stories
the preachers told,
but with
mud
made of clay and blood, and little of the honor
as has become
believed to be worth killing many strangers, for honor,
national pride,
ethnic pride,
holy pride,
foolish pride that expands the space of any we.
Mobs have no free will… armies are mobs, in the mind.
Knowers breathe the same sure things that cannot change,
breath commas are scribble-tech - legal in 2021
alienated minds may make waves
on oceans of opinion, intent on influencing a we to be
the people who stand under no wedom token,
nor wear the t-shirt.

No we includes me,
alien being ain't easy. It's tricky not to lie.
Alienated minds wander at will, no free will, definitions
-part of me imagines getting high with Sam Harris
-on my front porch, with the hawks and the sunsets…

I was thinking of that guy, Sam- I am
Dr. Suess, was reared in racist 1930's earth, okeh.
But he was alienated, later in life.
He became not like those who never heard a who.

-but it was Sam Harris, I will not disagree with.
I will agree with his definition of will and free. I will
see if that unalienates me.

Will I feel a part of the smart set who know what the
problem is, if you will? {}
*******, as a character trait, is manifest here, as me.
Okeh, is almost always
this ******* voice, but not one you hate. Jack Nicholson,
that character, the actor, ******* is like the
maskless Arlecchino, in civvies…

Alienated minds meander by nature, as gravity is good…
but sometimes there needs to be a means
to slow the flow of all we may imagine,
practice being real in,
like a song none shall ever hear, you be the song
alien in spirit mind and body, but in 2021.

all we believed we were,
the free and the brave,
the children of the
serfs and peasants and slaves,
y'know_
"your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

---- No lie, I got a call… like right now, 2:48 post meridian
Saturday. On a recorded line, no less,
the republican national committee, calling me, crazy old
storyteller from the old school, she says, to me, that
this call with me is important for the good of the country,
like it's national pride, the gas-filled party balloon
I see
freely trigger a disneyified response in me
shaped to trigger the Disneyfied Vision of America, RNC version
***** head kid, covid masked, with a pink Micky Mouse Shape,
-- like water, yes, a mickeymouseshape molecule arranges
water in all its shape and powers.

Wu wei wu wu, do nothing, watch life pass
being wise as water, harmless as a rock

In words
she works
her dangerous tongue
shaping the
desires that were,
are, and yet to ***.

Viper eyes
of Egyptian fire
surge towards me
purging any urge
I have to resist
the demon’s lips
that ache to kiss
my tired flesh
to death.

It has been far too long.
Rain never looming.
My eyes always averted,
hands working out
****** frustration,
but when I face her
I yearn to bend
to her whims.

She commands me
to crawl
and I do.
She demands
that I beg
and I do.
Then she tells me
to devour her flesh
as she devours me
and my tongue
whips viciously
savaging
her moist lips.

Legs parting,
heart thumping,
she demands
all that I am
as a man.
I become hers
and give in
pumping
with a passionate fury.

We howl,
growl,
and nip.

The wet sounds
of desire’s fulfillment
fills the room.
We are consumed
in such a sweet
****** tempest.

Till we part,
only temporarily satisfied
animals waiting to refresh
so, we can feed the lust
again, and again.

It is all so jarring,
the turbulence,
the waves.
A crashing
oceanic grave
crescendoing
in true operatic form.
The destruction adorned
in a Tempest’s
scorn,
nature fatale.
We all
surrender
to something
beyond
ourselves.
The storm
is now
here
my friends.

From a distance
By
Jude Kyrie

*I always loved you
but only from a distance
I knew you could mend me
with all my broken parts.
I knew you could fix me
like brand new.
But I also knew
you would leave me.
leaving me broken
in a million pieces.
Your heart was filled with
thunderstorms and tempest
that became quietened
in your spirit.
leaving you with breath
like gentle spring rain
rain that fell over me relentlessly.
I thought I was made of rock
but rock does not feel pain.

Oh my Love!
I know we are damaged and broken
with the razor slashes of life
scaring our hearts.
I am not the first lover
you kissed with molten passion.
You are not the first woman
to whom I uttered a heart full
of always and forever’s.
Love came to us from the shadows
unnoticed and unexpected.
when neither of us
was looking it took us both.
We thought love had called before
and left us to find others,
that our time of love was past.
But this miracle of revelation
this joy of the soul
is how we will heal.
The open wounds
of loss will be soothed
by our passions.
we will press new joys between us
like orchids in a book.
The scars of loss will fade in our eyes
and we shall never see them again.
I know you are still afraid to show
me your deepest scars..
But know this my love.
when you lie with me
broken and damaged
from a thousand cuts of past  sorrow.
I see only the most beautiful thing
my eyes have ever cast upon.
Konw this.
I will love you
when you are
a becalmed ocean.
Or when you are
the cresting waves
of a tempest fury.

As truthful as truth gets,

we did love each other with the passion

and turmoil of the tempest.

But as truthful as truth gets

we knew one thing:

we don't belong to each other--

we never did.

We were thieves and boy, did we steal.

Our souls conspired to share the penalties of our crime,

and it was all worth it

until judgment came, and we were found guilty.

But as truthful as truth gets,

I regret nothing.

The seduction began at the dusk
then progressed as darkness fell
into the blackness, the journey led
with promise made I could not trust

the clouds have clashed against the sun
gray to black, they vow to stay
I seek a shelter against the storm
the rage that circles every day

temptation pledged an escape
dulcet murmurs in my ear
as the strength left my limbs
the voice spoke with honeyed bliss

“I will vanquish this always cycle
the never ending circle spent
in existing, that grind of life
to lay you down in calming arms”

“this retreat will be a void
entreating shade to fill your life
in a realm you’ll find yourself
beyond the pain in the bones”

narcotic call from the shoals
a calming voice in tempest eye
can I trust the siren’s call
when betrayal may occur?

the tempest may welcome me
at the exit of those dreams
forever raging, always there
escape forbidden by the gods

enticement made in bad faith
seduction wooing the battered soul
if only the peace would last
after darkness has had its time.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180107.

[Lyrics by Catherine Jarvis]

Windows light up
Rattling sashes
Rain don't stop
It tears & lashes
Thunder sears and
Lightning crashes
Houses up in
Smoke & ashes...

~~~~~~

[Chorus]

Roll on by, storm,
Roll on by!
You won't make me
Weep & sigh!
You will pass me
By & by
I'll wake up
To God's blue sky...

No power of hell
Nor will of Man
No twist or turn
Or slight of hand
No storm or rain
Or lightning slam.
I'll overcome.
I'll understand.

~~~~~~~

The rain won't stop
Won't let me be
But it can't melt
The heart in me!
If you knew
You would agree
I'm an eagle
Don't you see!
I'll rise above
I will not flee
I have got the victory!

[Chorus]

I will watch
& I will wait
Soon the tempest
Will abate
Whether it be
Soon or late
I'll stand in LOVE!
I will not hate!
I will enter
Heaven's gate
To be with Jesus
Is my fate...

I will live with
GOD SO GREAT!


SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/14/2019

the waves rushed about his soul
while i drifted perilously in the deluge
all the while wondering what monsters swam below

how badly i wanted to conquer this mess
this disastrous mess- lightening in his eyes
thunder in his voice

i knew that the blood of the gods
still pumped through his veins,
but i was still a woman adrift
(how the hell did i not drown?)

i longed to calm his tempest,
but i wanted to feel his rage just as bad
this was a crime

i almost always desire the blue seas,
the ones seen in magazines
but instead i found myself
living with a hurricane
who saved me

Out of conversation
Stirring moral gumbo
Squint red-tinted as if
Looking through a glass of chagrinadine
In a surely tempest
Grassed at impasse

Mute in the mind's eye
Sifting through hindsight
Every find was a light
That's already burnt out

And once silence is broken
And patience kneels for me to climb up
I pay tribute to the sunrise
The perpetual ripening
Among the sticky-sweet decay

And then,
like a tempest, emotions surged through my mind –
ah, I believe it could only be the work of a UFO,

And there she stood,
a tall figure, her fingers surprisingly short –
they nicknamed her Finn; a name laced with irony,
for she relishes the Adventure time in the depths
of my heart, soul, body, and mind.

And truly she’s a catch;
swimming so effortlessly, and gliding so gracefully
through the currents of my every thought…

                                                       ­     Finn the girl.

Take what we need while there's time
The city will be up in a short while
If I'm not mistaken it's catching flames
Let us run and escape back to the beach side

The city is burning and the ocean is turning
All the light that you possess scattered by lakes and sea
Guiding as we dance and sway in the tattered remnants of our destroyed moonlit eve

You are my lighthouse, the sea mark
The tempest of apocalypse has created this tide
I'm always pulled to the black silver ocean
Where these currents and the heavens collide
You're so unpredictable and I'm this solid brick who's unwilling to stray
We're in this solid state where the currents can't seem to carry us away
I'm the navigator who never could seem to lead
You're the ship who was always too proud to ever sink

It's the disappearance
that excites me
between the pretty petals
blowing,
blowing in the tempest winds.
And when
I feel,
I feel
your warm breath
on my bare skin,
I am not lost,
I am found.

You are the call of summers warmth
and in winter a coal filled fire
you who makes me sweet comfort
you, the sharp edge for my inspiration

I am you're storm to command
and I will do your bidding
in hell or high waters
liken to Prosperous loved daughter

No Matter the Tempest
I will stand firm
not matter my faults
I will learn

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

I sat upon the shores of heartache,
and knew in one glorious moment
what i had to do next.

Reigning sulfur and fire,
brimstone and all the terrible things,
I rode among thieves and frail ******,
those that would soon hang in the gallows,
and took them under my wing as sunlight would save them,
So I drug us all into the hell below.

As all infinite pain and dismay do hang themselves on these walls,
a beautiful melody beings to play in the distance,
THREE children walk slowly towards a glimmer,
life in their hearts getting brighter as night approaches,
so that they might take upon them the dreams of the ******.

We arrive,
thunderous and warranted as all justice is inevitable,
thick smoke and desperate tempest flow from our fingertips,
and we shall know no defiance dense enough to deter our wrath,
so many bodies fall and lie silent forever.

Until we reached their playground,
the terrible fear of absolute salvation,
and redemption of our eternal souls did our slaying so stutter,
such abject terror inflicted upon such abject terror.
We had to stop.  

Hope,
Kindness,
Honesty.

Their names shot through the dark,
swept my companions away and bled them dry,
hung them by their necks as all justice is inevitable,
killed them and placed them at my feet,
A sacrifice to save a the heart of a soul intangible.

I cried. God how I cried. Until life poured out of me and fell upon those carcass and burned them away. Until the sky cried for me as a family cried the day their beloved died.

I felt beauty again,
in every pore and it filled every empty crevasse until was full,
again and again the names rang through my head,
until all i could hear was the warmth of reasonable thought,
and memories of blood and terror fading away.

Loneliness lamented,
never exempt from
tremendous emptiness,
relentless against
hellbent descent
of my own invention;
entrenched in
mental torment
taking up every tenement residence,
detention condemns.

But
summer still incenses
mid November
in sun scented
memories,
tempted by your
gentlest remnants,
still renders me
senseless.

Daydreamt,
ephemeral,
almost replenishes and mends
until
heart hemorrhaging
becomes a
drenching tempest,
like a fist clenching
tension
holding onto your
absence
and some semblance
of what you meant
and yet
goodbye
you went
again.

Wayward,
The convoy’s descent,
Through the breathless hills,
The frozen riverside,
Amongst the wicked witch woods.

Howls of frost approaches,
Impetuous, callous tempest,
Beacon of catastrophe,
Sparks a menacing flare,
The ferocious force of humanity.

Beseech me if you must!
Though as harrowingly as it seems,
No abysmal depth in snow,
May conceal the end in mind,
Of these grimy hands of mine.

(A Psalm of Grievance: the cry for relief.)

My trials are many and heavy,
Seemingly never to end.

Will the tempest toss
And breakers rage forevermore,
As one by one the waves come
Crashing o'er the shore?

The tide-swell is ominous,
The howling winds blow.
And lurking beneath the surface
Is a subtle undertow.

But God’s voice, all-powerful,
Creates a calm in me
As his Spirit 'pon the waters
Stills the raging sea.

It could be Melville
or De Mille, but it's
more likely to be
Shelbyville
and then what if
I could be an extra in
South Park
brought in to ****
Kenny
he never has any
luck.

I wish it was Marineville
where Troy Tempest does
his best
to
not fall in love with Marina
why is he acting like
Troy McClure
when
she's a knockout?
I've seen her.

I knew all those names that
ran at twenty eight frames
and the ones that came later.

I know nothing now
and that's how
it goes.

I have this need this desire this certain
walk along the park mentality
where  words fall from trees
the meanings from small animals
the sense , that creativity
art, if you will,
comes just from trying,
or walking along a riverbank in the beckoning
of a spring shower
or a thunderstorm
threatening to strike
all down with a whirlwind  tempest,
almost , but, words and loci
are much calmer, the aforementioned was but
feelings, I consider
every feeling , call it in,
consider it as reasonable
a second or two,
then reign the unmentionable into words,
strike the pose
as Poseidon,
blow wind  words  into the sails
of Genesis, into the breeze of
the mountains,
smoting verb snow covered every
mountaintop
the very verb filled valley
with uniqueness,
because,
I can.

Nature's fury, nature's fire,
Feel her wrath as she shows her ire,
Be it tempest or be it gale,
Hear her cry as the winds they wail.

Earthquake, hurricane or fiery volcano,
Death and destruction wherever they go,
Tsunamis lurk 'neath seven seas,
Bringing the mightiest to their knees.

This Earth we share, there is but one,
She shall live on long after we're gone,
To her we are a mere parasite,
Nothing compared to her fire and might.

The time of man, is now at hand,
As we **** and pillage cross every land,
The end of days is our recourse,
As nature responds, without remorse.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation

Like a tempest
Barged into my chest
Like a sword
carving a dark path
Where it headed, no return
Where it headed,
Sad nocturne.
Through that tunnel
To the urns
Mourning mornings in my heart
Mourning sunsets just to start
Can you explain  me how the Sun
Every evening doesn’t drown.
Go ahead, let me down
And without a frown
(Under construction)

In the midst of turmoil, I find solace in silence,
Battling against this unyielding pain, I strive to stay calm.
Dark clouds persistently shadow my path,
As the rain keeps pouring, unrelenting, never-ending.

Each thunderous boom resonates within my core,
Causing tremors of sadness, shaking me to my very soul.
A shiver runs through me, tears blending with rainwater,
Emotions quivering in my voice, struggling to keep pace.

My thoughts race, a tempest howling like the wind,
Twirling relentlessly, with no end in sight, no victory to claim.
Tears flow freely, blending with the storm's cascade,
Gazing out into the tempest, it echoes my perception of the world.

With each bright flash of lightning, a new perspective emerges,
And gradually, the thoughts begin to slow, like the breeze subsiding.
The thunder's roar diminishes to a low grumble,
And the scent of rain calms, soothing my senses.

I kneel upon the ground, finding peace within my mind,
A gentle wind brushes against my back, providing support.
Donning a mask upon my face, I prepare to return,
To a world that feels fractured and fragmented.

But I know, deep down, that storms eventually cease,
They run their course, and peace finds its way back to me.
So, with renewed strength and resilience, I face the turmoil,
Knowing that this too shall pass, and I will endure once more.