I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds' commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flame a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapors drew
A sudden elemental sword.

The sun at bay with splendid thrusts still keeps the sullen fold;
And momently at distance sets, as a cupola of gold,
The thatched roof of a cot a-glance;
Or on the blurred horizon joins his battle with the haze;
Or pools the blooming fields about with inter-isolate blaze,
Great moveless meres of radiance.

Then mark you how there hangs athwart the firmament's swept track,
Yonder a mighty crocodile with vast irradiant back,
A triple row of pointed teeth?
Under its burnished belly slips a ray of eventide,
The flickerings of a hundred glowing clouds in tenebrous side
With scales of golden mail ensheathe.

Then mounts a palace, then the air vibrates--the vision flees.
Confounded to its base, the fearful cloudy edifice
Ruins immense in mounded wrack;
Afar the fragments strew the sky, and each envermeiled cone
Hangeth, peak downward, overhead, like mountains overthrown
When the earthquake heaves its hugy back.

These vapors, with their leaden, golden, iron, bronzèd glows,
Where the hurricane, the waterspout, thunder, and hell repose,
Muttering hoarse dreams of destined harms,--
'Tis God who hangs their multitude amid the skiey deep,
As a warrior that suspendeth from the roof-tree of his keep
His dreadful and resounding arms!

All vanishes! The Sun, from topmost heaven precipitated,
Like a globe of iron which is tossed back fiery red
Into the furnace stirred to fume,
Shocking the cloudy surges, plashed from its impetuous ire,
Even to the zenith spattereth in a flecking scud of fire
The vaporous and inflamèd spaume.

O contemplate the heavens! Whenas the vein-drawn day dies pale,
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil?
With love that has not speech for need!
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite:
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night
Fantasy them starre brede.

O, interminable tenebrous
ev'r bewildering,
haunting, taunting
my incessant Pierian Spring!

embedded in the most tenebrous corner of my mind,
harlequin memories of serendipity,
dripping like bittersweet wine,
tantalize me,
begriming what was once an unsoiled canvas.

engulfed in my despondency,
I repose homely
until my mind's taste-buds
savor the saccharine flavors
of its own derisive thoughts.

aroused to say the least,
my mind's libido is now being satisfied.
I lie here,
welcoming all that my thoughts and epiphanies have to offer.
I am unable to disclose what's bestowed to me
but that's irrelevant.

My mind is here...
and open
and anticipating
the pleasing rush
of these thoughts that venture through my head.

The pleasure is overwhelming,
forcing my chakras open
as my ajna awakens from its long slumber.

I crave this foreplay
and I plead with the universe
to make it never-ending
but it seems my cries fall upon deaf ears
and I'm left open-minded
and unfinished.

Now, when the moon slid under the cloud
And the cold clear dark of starlight fell,
He heard in his blood the well-known bell
Tolling slowly in heaves of sound,
Slowly beating, slowly beating,
Shaking its pulse on the stagnant air:
Sometimes it swung completely round,
Horribly gasping as if for breath;
Falling down with an anguished cry . . .
Now the red bat, he mused, will fly;
Something is marked, this night, for death . . .
And while he mused, along his blood
Flew ghostly voices, remote and thin,
They rose in the cavern of his brain,
Like ghosts they died away again;
And hands upon his heart were laid,
And music upon his flesh was played,
Until, as he was bidden to do,
He walked the wood he so well knew.
Through the cold dew he moved his feet,
And heard far off, as under the earth,
Discordant music in shuddering tones,
Screams of laughter, horrible mirth,
Clapping of hands, and thudding of drums,
And the long-drawn wail of one in pain.
To-night, he thought, I shall die again,
We shall die again in the red-eyed fire
To meet on the edge of the wood beyond
With the placid gaze of fed desire . . .
He walked; and behind the whisper of trees,
In and out, one walked with him:
She parted the branches and peered at him,
Through lowered lids her two eyes burned,
He heard her breath, he saw her hand,
Wherever he turned his way, she turned:
Kept pace with him, now fast, now slow;
Moving her white knees as he moved . . .
This is the one I have always loved;
This is the one whose bat-soul comes
To dance with me, flesh to flesh,
In the starlight dance of horns and drums . . .

The walls and roofs, the scarlet towers,
Sank down behind a rushing sky.
He heard a sweet song just begun
Abruptly shatter in tones and die.
It whirled away.  Cold silence fell.
And again came tollings of a bell.

     *     *     *     *     *

This air is alive with witches: the white witch rides
Swifter than smoke on the starlit wind.
In the clear darkness, while the moon hides,
They come like dreams, like something remembered . .
Let us hurry! beloved; take my hand,
Forget these things that trouble your eyes,
Forget, forget!  Our flesh is changed,
Lighter than smoke we wreathe and rise . . .

The cold air hisses between us . . . Beloved, beloved,
What was the word you said?
Something about clear music that sang through water . . .
I cannot remember.  The storm-drops break on the leaves.
Something was lost in the darkness.  Someone is dead.
Someone lies in the garden and grieves.
Look how the branches are tossed in this air,
Flinging their green to the earth!
Black clouds rush to devour the stars in the sky,
The moon stares down like a half-closed eye.
The leaves are scattered, the birds are blown,
Oaks crash down in the darkness,
We run from our windy shadows; we are running alone.

     *     *     *     *     *

The moon was darkened: across it flew
The swift grey tenebrous shape he knew,
Like a thing of smoke it crossed the sky,
The witch! he said.  And he heard a cry,
And another came, and another came,
And one, grown duskily red with blood,
Floated an instant across the moon,
Hung like a dull fantastic flame . . .
The earth has veins: they throb to-night,
The earth swells warm beneath my feet,
The tips of the trees grow red and bright,
The leaves are swollen, I feel them beat,
They press together, they push and sigh,
They listen to hear the great bat cry,
The great red bat with the woman's face . . .
Hurry! he said.  And pace for pace
That other, who trod the dark with him,
Crushed the live leaves, reached out white hands
And closed her eyes, the better to see
The priests with claws, the lovers with hooves,
The fire-lit rock, the sarabands.
I am here! she said.  The bough he broke--
Was it the snapping bough that spoke?
I am here! she said.  The white thigh gleamed
Cold in starlight among dark leaves,
The head thrown backward as he had dreamed,
The shadowy red deep jasper mouth;
And the lifted hands, and the ****** *******,
Passed beside him, and vanished away.
I am here! she cried.  He answered 'Stay!'
And laughter arose, and near and far
Answering laughter rose and died . . .
Who is there? in the dark? he cried.
He stood in terror, and heard a sound
Of terrible hooves on the hollow ground;
They rushed, were still; a silence fell;
And he heard deep tollings of a bell.

     *     *     *     *     *

Look beloved!  Why do you hide your face?
Look, in the centre there, above the fire,
They are bearing the boy who blasphemed love!
They are playing a piercing music upon him
With a bow of living wire! . . .
The ****** harlot sings,
She leans above the beautiful anguished body,
And draws slow music from those strings.
They dance around him, they fling red roses upon him,
They trample him with their naked feet,
His cries are lost in laughter,
Their feet grow dark with his blood, they beat and
      beat,
They dance upon him, until he cries no more . . .
Have we not heard that cry before?
Somewhere, somewhere,
Beside a sea, in the green evening,
Beneath green clouds, in a copper sky . . .
Was it you? was it I?
They have quenched the fires, they dance in the darkness,
The satyrs have run among them to seize and tear,
Look! he has caught one by the hair,
She screams and falls, he bears her away with him,
And the night grows full of whistling wings.
Far off, one voice, serene and sweet,
Rises and sings . . .

'By the clear waters where once I died,
In the calm evening bright with stars. . . .'
Where have I heard these words?  Was it you who sang them?
It was long ago.
Let us hurry, beloved! the hard hooves trample;
The treetops tremble and glow.

     *     *     *     *     *

In the clear dark, on silent wings,
The red bat hovers beneath her moon;
She drops through the fragrant night, and clings
Fast in the shadow, with hands like claws,
With soft eyes closed and mouth that feeds,
To the young white flesh that warmly bleeds.
The maidens circle in dance, and raise
From lifting throats, a soft-sung praise;
Their knees and ******* are white and bare,
They have hung pale roses in their hair,
Each of them as she dances by
Peers at the blood with a narrowed eye.
See how the red wing wraps him round,
See how the white youth struggles in vain!
The weak arms writhe in a soundless pain;
He writhes in the soft red veiny wings,
But still she whispers upon him and clings. . . .
This is the secret feast of love,
Look well, look well, before it dies,
See how the red one trembles above,
See how quiet the white one lies! . . . .

Wind through the trees. . . and a voice is heard
Singing far off.  The dead leaves fall. . . .
'By the clear waters where once I died,
In the calm evening bright with stars,
One among numberless avatars,
I wedded a mortal, a mortal bride,
And lay on the stones and gave my flesh,
And entered the hunger of him I loved.
How shall I ever escape this mesh
Or be from my lover's body removed?'
Dead leaves stream through the hurrying air
And the maenads dance with flying hair.

     *     *     *     *     *

The priests with hooves, the lovers with horns,
Rise in the starlight, one by one,
They draw their knives on the spurting throats,
They smear the column with blood of goats,
They dabble the blood on hair and lips
And wait like stones for the moon's eclipse.
They stand like stones and stare at the sky
Where the moon leers down like a half-closed eye. . .
In the green moonlight still they stand
While wind flows over the darkened sand
And brood on the soft forgotten things
That filled their shadowy yesterdays. . . .
Where are the *******, the scarlet wings? . . . .
They gaze at each other with troubled gaze. . . .
And then, as the shadow closes the moon,
Shout, and strike with their hooves the ground,
And rush through the dark, and fill the night
With a slowly dying clamor of sound.
There, where the great walls crowd the stars,
There, by the black wind-riven walls,
In a grove of twisted leafless trees. . . .
Who are these pilgrims, who are these,
These three, the one of whom stands upright,
While one lies weeping and one of them crawls?
The face that he turned was a wounded face,
I heard the dripping of blood on stones. . . .
Hooves had trampled and torn this place,
And the leaves were strewn with blood and bones.
Sometimes, I think, beneath my feet,
The warm earth stretches herself and sighs. . . .
Listen!  I heard the slow heart beat. . . .
I will lie on this grass as a lover lies
And reach to the north and reach to the south
And seek in the darkness for her mouth.

     *     *     *     *     *

Beloved, beloved, where the slow waves of the wind
Shatter pale foam among great trees,
Under the hurrying stars, under the heaving arches,
Like one whirled down under shadowy seas,
I run to find you, I run and cry,
Where are you?  Where are you?  It is I.  It is I.
It is your eyes I seek, it is your windy hair,
Your starlight body that breathes in the darkness there.
Under the darkness I feel you stirring. . . .
Is this you?  Is this you?
Bats in this air go whirring. . . .
And this soft mouth that darkly meets my mouth,
Is this the soft mouth I knew?
Darkness, and wind in the tortured trees;
And the patter of dew.

     *     *     *     *     *

Dance!  Dance!  Dance!  Dance!
Dance till the brain is red with speed!
Dance till you fall!  Lift your torches!
Kiss your lovers until they bleed!
Backward I draw your anguished hair
Until your eyes are stretched with pain;
Backward I press you until you cry,
Your lips grow white, I kiss you again,
I will take a torch and set you afire,
I will break your body and fling it away. . . .
Look, you are trembling. . . Lie still, beloved!
Lock your hands in my hair, and say
Darling! darling! darling! darling!
All night long till the break of day.

Is it your heart I hear beneath me. . . .
Or the far tolling of that tower?
The voices are still that cried around us. . . .
The woods grow still for the sacred hour.
Rise, white lover! the day draws near.
The grey trees lean to the east in fear.
'By the clear waters where once I died . . . .'
Beloved, whose voice was this that cried?
'By the clear waters that reach the sun
By the clear waves that starward run. . . .
I found love's body and lost his soul,
And crumbled in flame that should have annealed. . .
How shall I ever again be whole,
By what dark waters shall I be healed?'

Silence. . . the red leaves, one by one,
Fall.  Far off, the maenads run.

Silence.  Beneath my naked feet
The veins of the red earth swell and beat.
The dead leaves sigh on the troubled air,
Far off the maenads bind their hair. . . .
Hurry, beloved! the day comes soon.
The fire is drawn from the heart of the moon.

     *     *     *     *     *

The great bell cracks and falls at last.
The moon whirls out.  The sky grows still.
Look, how the white cloud crosses the stars
And suddenly drops behind the hill!
Your eyes are placid, you smile at me,
We sit in the room by candle-light.
We peer in each other's veins and see
No sign of the things we saw this night.
Only, a song is in your ears,
A song you have heard, you think, in dream:
The song which only the demon hears,
In the dark forest where maenads scream . . .

'By the clear waters where once I died . . .
In the calm evening bright with stars . . . '
What do the strange words mean? you say,--
And touch my hand, and turn away.

Ground smolders and smokes

Luminescent men, humps at the front

**** and poke

The air acrid, the smell of burning stone

On a wall three boys

Gaze, eyes wide, mouths

Marleyesque, dropping

Bewitched as the florescent men

Smooth and calm the steaming earth

Spraying water from a can

To quench its thirst

The seething, black

And exhausted ground

Murmurs in sick response

To its own fragmented curse

A yellow dragon near by

Belches black blood

Oozing from its innards

Through Gothic gargoyle mouth

The lime coloured men shovel

This toxic *****, smear it

Across the gasping earth

That lies, ripped like a jagged

Wound on a dying man

The lime colored men

Mount the yellow dragon

Speed off, leaving

The scorched ground

Burning and hissing,

With sulphurous smoke

A million sizzling angry snakes

The three boys run away in freight

Dropping playthings as they fumble

And tumble in their horrified flight

The black earth cries, bubbles

And consumes their toys

Passes sentence

Makes them L'Enfant Commune

The lost boys

Then there is a quiver

A tedious tremble, a treble;

That played like stretched

Elastic flicked with

Forefinger and thumb

Making the heart numb

Extracting false confessions

A stench of putrid untruth

*** charades of delicate

Ravaged faced youth

A drole de ménage

Slave to the hunger

Of the unknown demand

The French grooming

Of horses, that may charm

The curious but leaves curiosity

Still smouldering in the

Hidden depths of the

Universal mind

Sanumbolists in the

Fullness of a dream of

Ineffable torture consume need

The boys cry out, for the

Earth has stolen a liars tongue

Branded them abominable

With decaying enormities

Detestable, enamelled eyes

Lurk and peer from

Behind gauzed curtains

A corpse of understanding

That inspects the invisible

Images of imbeciles

Parchments dripping in powdered

Crystalline drops smear the pavements

The boys wave their arms

But no-one sees them

There is the rise and fall of cryptic waves

That ebb and flow scorching

A shore of silent sorrows

Lapping feverously at the

Arc of a whirlpool

Whose decreasing concentric

Circles **** the boys down

Into an eternity of hot tears

Leaves them without parents

Gives their brothers and sisters

Into a slavery of barbarous belief

A ferocious language

Banning the boys from all beaches

Provides tyrannical pilgrimages

To black robbed priests

Possessors' of serpents' hearts

The yellow dragon returns

Lemon coloured men spill

From its foaming mouth

The boys hide behind

Dead rose bushes

Ah, but their tenebrous

Trembles creak in the

Blotched and bloodied

Butchers sawdust

A fabulous elegance cradles them

Making the smoking dragon angry

It spews molten bile taken

From the bloated stomachs

Of white beasts

The luminosity of the

Lemon coloured men

Increases to blindness

They wave tattered antediluvian

Bark and scream from

Their dark, deceitful, anchored armchairs

From railed and spiked alters

Spitting bitterest gall

The lemon coloured men

Butcher the fabulous elegance

Leaving the boys naked

Prey to the perfections of

Puerile generosities

That vows to extinguish

Their human desire

Vacant eyes with

Nauseating sight strut

A cruel distortion

Terrifying voices offer

Demonic destruction

The boys weep, but

no-one hears them

A violent paradise

Of popular poses tries,

But fails to caress them

The dragon burns the boys

But no-one smells them

Their terror turns to molten flesh

The lemon coloured men

Spread it over the earth

The beast' heart beats

Joyfully in its bulbous belly

Sacred men smile while

Pitiless priests provide

A comedy

The boys become a hallow

Antique night their left

Legs held up for all

To see

Delirium devours the minds

Of a subjugated people

The deadly hissing of the earth

Like a silken spectre rises

Making scintillating shudders

Through the spiked splinters

Of time

Intelligence is reduced

To the rubble of religious

Intolerance

Lime, yellow, lemon drips

Heated plastic from false eyes

There are cries, sights and sounds

But no-one hears, sees or speaks

No real people are left

Similar boys watch from a wall

Huddle together and weep

I lit a candle in an empty concrete room

the floor is concrete
the walls are concrete
the ceiling is concrete

the candle is wax and wick
and I am skin and blood and cartilage and bone and hair and nail and water and guts and sad

I lit a candle in an empty concrete room
the yellow light of the fire makes things look tenebrous and cryptic
there are tiny cracks in the skin on my hand like a million piece puzzle of the ocean
tiny cracks between tiny triangles and diamonds
they make my hand
my hand holds a match
the match lights a candle
the candle burns
in an empty concrete room

concrete reminds me of falling off my bicycle and scraping my knees
and dungeons
and the weeds that grow in the cracks of every sidewalk

candles remind me of Christmas
and yoga in the dark
and my step-mother hoping her house smells like home
and calming down

I lit a candle in an empty concrete room,
crying bitterly at seclusion
my heart pounded to the flame’s flicker and a heavy thought tumbled into mud,
thickening it
it dried and I couldn’t cry

I don’t mean anything to this candle or this concrete
but there is something about a fire in a room built so rough and quiet
that makes me feel like
my voice is heard

Tenebrous pastel diamond steps,
wielded in a sterile estate.
legates of bequeathed curiosity, boil Olifant eyes in a cake of mesmeric petroleum chances, wry in compound sleep dust.
Abtruse hands in acrimonious cackle, rights of primogeniture, consume reptilian hearts.

Wobbly,  rib cages gesture j'accuse
Ownership, Mannhattan.
By the mercy a phosphorescent syntax, enticed by Creation,
exorciso false prophets, irreconsilable versions of Source.

fem in isms,
i imagine Sapphic eyes:
bad *** advert coruscates elite
fairness sensing slavish blind
in gestate calm affirm
in genders More numerous of Windows--
Superior--for Doors--
O harsh judgement foiled,
as a foil, as unknown truth
foil-doubles in the brow,
abject symmetry to systemize
a fertile lack of sterile barrenness,
i am a mediatrix rend,
nirwaan, hijra wonderment aside
from transemotion's ground swells
demeaning to be understood.
i celebrate and face the same
to be what paperwork tests being
normal being, freely chosen
atom each belonging moves
an asterisk of paths
of mutate art of nature social darwin maze.
i imagine Sapphic eyes,
ginko soft they pile up all cobble
memories themselves concretely
cloistered  fame
spray of salty waves,
macho screams symbol
for dismissal ease
for tearing at an inner unsaid war
with lists offense of proper taste
to what posterity intends
an undulation womblike seeming nourish safety sounds.
i imagine Sapphic eyes
past
debauched
meanderings
where hyster-clarity rejoins its titular
and reliable escapisms curl the lips
of maleness found
here and there  smile  sneer love
i imagine Sapphic eyes
linguistic pirouettes
congest that wisdom nonetheless
the moment passed  on to a
feigning truth in pretty rhyme
ornamenting time with fine  meter  fine
vernacular chimes peter in
to juggle perspectival paradox,
redichotomize the twilight idols,
resolve the conflict like a dawn
Aurora,
i imagine Sapphic eyes
running plastic with Alaskan wolves,
toga floats to snow
to let us see the purest fairness form
a ****** circle,
Hypatia ascends from tenebrous grave,
Impregnable of Eye is pregnant now
with Wollstonecraft revered
in liberation's fount
families held exemplar gaze of
Taylor, ******, Cady,
Anthony resanctified
to vote entitlement's
empathic origins, waxen mold
of nascent categories,
narrow hands spread wide to panoply anew
the manifest evolve in true unknowns

Was is it you Tenebrous?
Who stopped my eyes from opening up
Who took my sight

I saw before
All the vibrant colors of creation
Now all is darkness
Nothing more

Am I unmade?
Who cannot see his own face in the glass
Yes, for you have unmade the very world with this

And space is nothing
But an enemy to sound
And I am nothing
But an ear to the ground

Every moment of lifeless life
that I lived without her,
My own existence doubted me,
If I am alive or I've died.
You can't even conceive of
how I carried myself;
Just giving myself hope for love,
the love rains on the burning heart,
And ends all of my sufferings.
Soon it felt like the Gods have heard,
They had heard my afflict shriek.
The Women who held the lamp of love,
Came to me to end my tenebrous nights.
Her presence made the time pass away,
Like the waterfall from the milky heaven.
Her presence had made me realized,
Of the fact that I possessed a Heart.  
My emotions started blooming out,
like the spring rising from dead winter.
Her heavenly reflection moves my soul,
She is the epitome of magnificence.
I wish that time will come soon,
when she will be able to see in me.
Both of us wrapped in each others arms,
That the way want ourselves to be.

I wonder…
Wherever this nebulous varmint is
Here, there, everywhere
Does he ever look to himself in shame
He who leaves his iniquitous stains
For all the hatred he lays claim?

He gives tongue to the anemic, weakened mettle
Wheezing his nidorous, putrid breath into its chambers
Leaving behind his dark, black, deadly whispers
Of desolated emptiness his demonic sinister

He entombs them alive those he perversely abducts
To his Cimmerian, shadowy hell
Slither back to your bottomless pit
You tenebrous angel from purgatory

You don’t deserve a capital ‘A’ for angel
In your God forsaken name
Demon of greed and endless shame
Conjuring up ways to wickedly ensnare those
Who’ve weakly stumbled to their knees

You were cast down from the Great One’s Home
You don't deserve this world to roam
This is ‘Lights Out’
The demise of you and me and everything I used to be!

Don’t hurl me your meager crumbs of wretched love
As you wickedly tally my teardrops in The Mighty’s rain
You menacing angel I recognize your despicable fame
I’m through dancing to your stygian, sooty song
Go back to Hades where you chose to belong

You cheat; you lie with your unlit, callous façade
You Cerberus hound from hell you are not from my loving God
At long last I see behind your lurid, false masquerade
You malevolent angel cast from Heaven

I pray, you incubus, you succubus
Recoil back to your wicked inferno
Go crawling back to your lake of fire
Ye who chose crepuscular, selfish desire
      And...
Pathetically became you

______

I missed your drawings

Magic charcoal of beauty

Sense of line and charismatic charm

Perfection of form with tenebrous light

Like segregated sunshine, a codex in Black

Wrote you
a note,
simple and crude,
three simple words
- I miss you.
Struck a few chords
-off key.
Played with some words;
Tenebrous
-adds fuel to the mystery.

I flew were rain descended
gleaming like an iris
waiting for the sunshine to sneak
behind the tenebrous clouds
to endure the sprinkles of nippy water
flowing like a queen in majestic raiment
streaming in routes
delivering pristine rinse to flora
and I penetrate right into it
to dance to the melody of its music!!
©shadeofalonelygirl

Are you truly that thoughtless?
Or quite simple, just the same?
Can’t you see the blatantly undeniable?
Recurrent actions in centuries passed?

In your hollowed, tenebrous whole
Manifestation of isolation
Is there not a more evident proof
You’re a pillar of others’ melancholy
For your awful reclusion and great lack of communication...

some rather dark nights
seems the moon's on vacation . . .

1.
Look, here comes courage
Dragging the moon in its teeth
While stars dapple in its tangled fleece
Go on, you!
Go and put the moon back up in the sky
Where it belongs

2.
Tenebrous nite falls on square
Yet a caged moon shines courageous slivers
Most haunting melodies
Then that dark figure appears
Trying to steal it away

With black birds flapping round him
Like a sombre halo over him
He slinks off into the welcoming shadows.

3.
Girl with long blonde plaits
sits on water-lily petal-pads
In the middle of a mild mere
Mauve moon lies tame in her still palms
But the wrong notes suddenly play out
Harmony not quite jacked up

4.
Elemental whirlpool explodes
As sceptred figures hunch in red dust
A flash of green sky
white elephants drown in shallow puddles
angels sit on the edge of blue teacups
while thoughts crisscross

and moon hops away
galaxial order pleased


put the moon back
where it belongs

let it hang there . . .
in the sky*




S T, 20 July 2013

A white abstract silence falls heavily like phosphorous snow… odd and oblique with nervous intensity of random limitations… sensitive and fragile in its unremitting generosity…A fluency of motion of imaginary realisation in silent turbulence descends in tenebrous shadows of illusion detonating the unconscious… the symmetry and exactitude of silence beyond all compass…. an intricate camouflage… meticulous and consistent.

Disinherited it tries to sanctify the air….. a silence in where stars evaporate vibrational loud and inquisitive…. freezing time by the velocity of its inner momentum of silent adrenalin.

Concealing its true identity isolating me in unknown realisation of what is to occur.. It resonates with constant tension waiting for unpredictability’s of indispensible voices that don’t speak….. This is a realisation of the imagination…. a vibrant insensibility…. density of unravelled thoughts that vaporise within me causing a vibration that fractures the equation of time and space in the burning crucible of my mind.

Intractable proportions of silent thought…. hovering… a constant mirage of irrational calculations….. This silence forces all the tears of consequence to fall upon my face with no avail…..Then in this thunderous silence see graffiti on white walls…abstract and meaningless….Like primitive lives…those with meaning yet possess no meaning… an ungovernable democracy of fruitless endeavour… of non factual fastidiousness… a glimpse of life and its fallacy.

Yet the words were spoken and written… by whom… And for why.. Now the silence punctuates and instructs…. phosphorous extinguishes itself and hides behind another truth…..The noise of the world cascades in torrents deafening… attempting to defeat… subordinate the senses in atavistic cruelty… Prowling searching for the silence… but it has gone…. disappeared in the imagination of my inner self…. an abstraction I call me….. But I know where the silence has gone….

Death a wassailing shadow
The cosmic kindler
That announces itself
Like a slipped coyote
Out of the black eye of day
Spanning the vast vividness
The tenebrous surreptitious
Abode of God, agape
The lurid womb of chaos
Corrupting whilst demons
Manifest under the new moon
The lustre of their wiles
The illusory horological
Machine of imagination
Conjuring the temporality of eternity
Delighting lamentably upon
The smitten truth of truths.


ELEETE J MUIR.

watching lightening
rip through the tenebrous sky,
anger-filled thunder scorns
the midnight hour.
We only came here to watch...
to breathe in cool night air.

I couldn't distinguish the shock
of your touch
from the wave of currents striking
the window of this sundance
crossing the blackened sky.

A feather-touch:
my lips, your lips, ours;
soft, seductive shivers.
Touches so electric,
we were unaware
of the youth-filled
dodge gunning
towards the embankment...
teen kisses, too innocent.

(They see our mirror image.)

In excited jolts,
like those of lightening raging
through the mountains,
we seek refuge
to thrill-seek
the precarious union
we are.

The abysm of the unbodied Infinite;
A fathomless zero occupied the world.
A power of fallen boundless self awake
Between the first and the last Nothingness,
Recalling the tenebrous womb from which it came,
Turned from the insoluble mystery of birth
And the tardy process of mortality
And longed to reach its end in vacant Nought.
As in a dark beginning of all things,
A mute featureless semblance of the Unknown
Repeating for ever the unconscious act,
Prolonging for ever the unseeing will,
Cradled the cosmic drowse of ignorant Force
Whose moved creative slumber kindles the suns
And carries our lives in its somnambulist whirl.
                                         --By Sri Auro,Book I,Canto I

The skies reek of a certain vastness,
one that can be tenebrous and gloomy, or lustrous in its omnipotence.
I gaze up at it sometimes, letting thoughts scarcely run through my mind.
I let my eyes consider each color on the horizon, and
become confused and fuzzy as the light fades, stars igniting into focus.
At times, the trees can become one with the sky:
their branches reaching into the Heavens, hoping to pull out a piece of the celestial.
Rustling leaves blot out burnished stars.
You may think trees only grow so tall for the stars, their lovers. The starlight
quenches an Evergreen’s thirst that rain cannot.
Under a thick blanket of moon and dim, every sound gets much-deserved attention.
My ears catch crickets singing of desire, or wind fondling the tops of trees.
Yet, as the sun follows its arduous ascent into the fragment of sky I’m gifted with,
another dawn takes place. A dawn of realization.
The beauty that our world has seized and evolved with will always
go unappreciated.
Strangely, the evanescence of a human life is expected, mourned, and understood.
However, the pulchritude of the world shall always be a mystery to one person or
another.
I will forever live in awe of this planet, and in fear of the surrounding universe.
Power pulsates from the earth, shivering the planet into seasons and disasters.
It has always been, and will forever be.
And yet, the world cares so little of me.

Great blind men see all,
But you are no gifted prophet,
Your claims are hollowed out
Your visions are tenebrous and ignorant --
Stop acting like you know me,
Stealing days, months, years
Does not mean I am yours;
My wings are clipped, but I still fly
My voice is silent, but I still sing.
You avoid my eyes, yet
You do not own your wrongs,
These bruises that go unnoticed,
These scars that are invisible.
Stop ignoring me! I’m still here.
I’m still trying to heal what is hurt,
Bind wounds opened by your hands.
Blind man, with eyes that do not see me,
Thinks he has ascendancy over me.
Blind man, oh my dear Blind man,
I hope you fall in your chosen darkness.

The Mathematician

“Hey Mr. Morris, I’m struggling to grasp these new math problems you have us working on.
Next week, I’m going on a family vacation and will be gone,
so, I’m wondering if you would be able to help me understand these problems after school today.
Unless you have big plans right after school, in that case, I wouldn’t want to cause you any type of delay.”

“Erin, you are my best student.
You’re getting an A in the class, never late and never truant.
I really don’t think you need my help on this.
I’m sure you will get yet another A on your next test and look back on this moment and reminisce
about the time that you lost confidence in yourself for a moment and asked for help you didn’t need.
Study a little longer and harder tonight and by tomorrow you will have it down packed, I know you agree.”

“I’m asking you for help because I want to keep my A and don’t want to slip up this late in the semester.
Look, if I wasn’t seriously having doubts about this, I wouldn’t come to you and pester.
Besides my parents, you are my biggest investor,
in believing that I am capable of becoming something greater than just a jester.”

“Fine, I’ll help you.  Are you able to come to my house tonight around six?
This study session shouldn’t take longer than an hour, as long as I stay on track and avoid talking politics.”

I smile and agree to the six-o clock meet up happy as a girl can be.
Butterflies tingle in my stomach, I’m so full of glee.
Too be honest, I don’t need his help.
I know exactly what I’m doing with the current curriculum.
My plan with Mr. Morris today involves something a little more…extracurricular.
I know what my friends will say.
I understand that they will beg and plea with me to keep my tenebrous desires at bay,
but I can no longer deny them.
Just like when you’re sick with the flu, you cannot deny the phlegm.
I’m in love with Mr. Morris.
I’m in love with him.
Tonight, I will make my move and cement my place by his side as his queen.
We can keep it a secret until I turn eighteen.
I see the way his eyes marvel at me.
He **** well knows my age might say sixteen, but I look twenty-three.
He eye ***** me every day in class.
I always flirt with him and ask him if I can get him some more water, just so I can hold onto is favorite glass.
He’s so handsome, kind and strong.
Tonight, he will introduce me to his bed where we both belong.
I’ve saved myself just for him.
I’m done with the flirting, that was just to prelim.
Tonight, we will consummate our relationship.
He is mine and I am his.

I tell my best friend Jade about my plan.
She immediately shuns me since she’s not a fan.
She tells me the last girl that went over to Mr. Morris’s house to get extra help was never seen again.
She tells me to stop thinking with my hormones and think with my brain.
I’m sixteen and he’s thirty-two.
She tells me he’s very mature and I haven’t got a clue.
She storms off after I refuse to back down from my plan.
I will show her my love for him is not a scam.

It is true that a girl he was supposed to help two years ago did go missing.
Everyone thought they ran off together after one person claimed to have seen them kissing.
It was proven he had nothing to do with her disappearance.
The police interrogated him for hours showing some real perseverance.
In the end, he was proven innocent.
No one could link him to her disappearance or to the kiss.
Kiss be true or not, tonight I want my kiss and more.
I want us in bed naked with our clothes scattered all over the floor.
I’m going to put on a thong and wear my sexiest skirt just for him.
He’s going to find out I’m not an innocent little church girl who likes to sing hymns.
I’m giving him my innocence so he can turn me into a woman.
His woman!
And he’ll be my man!
I’m putting myself out there tonight, hopefully everything goes according to plan.
__________________­

I’m looking in the bathroom mirror getting myself all dolled up.
Looking my very best for tonight is my first step towards becoming Mrs. Morris and once we are together, there will be no breaking up.
Ahh, yes, my makeup is right on point!
Looking like this…so hot and fine…I’m sure I won’t disappoint.
I have on my skimpiest thong and shortest of skirts.
O god, I wonder how he is in bed.  Hopefully good enough to make me squirt.
A girl squirting looks like so much fun in the *****’s I’ve seen.
Being able to squirt would make me a unique cuisine.
Ok, I’m dolled up, looking great and ready to go,
now time to sneak out of house without my parents seeing and calling me a *****.
They would not approve of me going to see my teacher looking like this.
They would lock me in my bedroom and throw away the key down a dark abyss.
__________________­__

I pull up and park on the side of the road next to Mr. Morris’s home.
My nerves are starting to get to me, I hope I’m doing the right thing and my brain is in fact not short a few chromosomes.
My heart is fluttering.
My mind is wondering.
My hormones are restructuring.
My ****** is quivering.
My looks are on point and flattering.
Time to make my move and end my head and my hearts bantering.

I get out of my car and walk up to the front door.
I know I dressed provocative, I just hope I don’t come off as a desperate *****.
The sky above me is darkening as storm clouds are moving in.
A rain storm won’t dampen my mood or wipe away my grin.
I take a deep breath, hoping this goes well.
If I was a good Christian girl, I would be terrified that this night would **** me to hell.
I knock on the door and Mr. Morris is quick to answer.
He eyes me up, smiles, invites me in all while letting out a slight laughter.

“Erin, not to cross any teacher student lines, but you look incredible.
If you were 18… I would ask that for just one night if you were rentable.
Dear god…I just made a ******* joke with one of my underage students.
Let’s…forget that comment just happened and focus on your mathematics skills so you can ease your mind and not have to worry about showing improvement.
Go ahead and sit down, I’m going to grab a glass of wine would you like one?
My way of showing you I’m sorry for that ******* comment and that outside of school I can be fun.”

I make myself comfortable on the couch and spread my legs a bit,
quickly check myself in my makeup containers mirror and ensure I’m still looking good in my outfit.
Mr. Morris returns with two glasses of wine and sits down next to me.
He’s sitting right next to me, right where I want him to be.
I take a sip of the wine and thank him for the drink,
spread my legs apart a bit further hoping he notices my thong, it’s bright pink.

“So what do you need my help on Erin?
You have an hour, then I have to meet up with my ex-wife Sharon.”

“Well, Mr. Morris…”

“You can call me Chris, Erin.”

I smile, first name basis already, this is going well.
I wonder what cologne he is wearing, I sure like it’s smell.
His eyes are dreamy; I could stare into them and get lost all night.
I can feel my love for him in my heart, I know what we are about to do is right.

“Well, Chris, I lied to you earlier today.
I didn’t come here seeking help with my work, rather to play.
I understand all of my work completely, I don’t need your help with it at all.
What happens next is ultimately your call,
but I came here dressed like this hoping you would be impressed.
I want us to be intimate so I can always help you relieve your stress.
I love you and want to be with you.
If you ever feel like you’re falling apart, you can turn to me to be your glue.
We can keep this all a secret until I’m 18 and graduated.
After that, we can go public and our love will never be debated.
I’ve saved myself for you and I want you right here, right now.
Do to me everything my parents would never allow!”

“Erin…I would lose my career, face prison time if anyone ever found out.
I know you promise to keep quiet but I have my doubts.
Every teacher-student relationship eventually gets found out about.
If we did this right now, every day in class I would want to bend you over my desk and make you shout
my name out loud over and over again and have my doubts I would be able to control myself around the other students in class.
Trust me I want to, more than I want to light up some grass,
but I just don’t think it’s a good idea.
Besides, you don’t know where I’ve been so you could end up with gonorrhea.”

“You’re not going to stop this from happening.
The thought of leaving here without getting what I want is maddening.
I understand that keeping this quiet will be challenging,
but we will master the technique of balancing
our separate public life and our closed off private life together.
Come on Chris, come get me and punish me, you don’t have to be sweet and tender.”

I see the conflict in Chris’s eyes as he loses control and plants a kiss on me.
His eyes tell me he is nervous and is debating whether he should stay or flee,
however, he takes things to the next level and invades my mouth with his tongue.
He needs to look past the fact that I’m young.
I’m mature and know what I want in life.
I want Chris and to one day be his wife!

After a few minutes of hot and heavy kissing,
Chris makes the next move towards providing me with what I’ve been missing.
He moves me onto his lap and while still kissing me, begins to life my shirt up and off of me.
Everything is going just how I imaged it would be.
With my shirt, off, Chris takes off my bra and begins ******* on my *******.
I place my mouth on his ear and begin to nibble.

Just as things are about to heat up some more,
thunder cracks open the sky and nearly knocks us down to the floor.
The power in the house instantly does out and we are left in the dark.
“O well, forget the power let’s keep going,” is my remark.

Chris tells me we need to pause.
He tells me we can pick things up in a few minutes because
down in his basement he has a generator he needs to start up to get the power back on.
I look at him with a frown.
He tells me to hang on tight he will be right back.
He doesn’t want us blindly navigating his house in the black.
As Chris adventures downstairs, I decide to take a look around his living room.
He should only be gone a few minutes, I assume.
I notice and bookcase in the living room and decide to take a look at what books he likes to read.
They may tell me some more about my love before we begin to breed.
Can’t hurt to learn more about him.
I would be surprised to find a book full of hymns.
He doesn’t seem the type who would enjoy singing them.
Maybe he has a book that will teach me about investing money so I can have a steady income.
“Total Eclipse of The Sun,” what in the world is this?
It’s written by some dude I never heard of, it must ****.

I pick the book up off the shelf to take a closer look at it.
As I pick the book up, something happens that leaves me shocked, a hard fact to admit.
The book shelf begins to turn into the wall exposing a hidden room.
My heart is instantly filled with a feeling of doom.
Nerves shoot up and down my spine causing my arm hairs to stand up like static.
**** is starting to get dramatic.
My breathing begins to quicken and become fanatic.
What exactly is hidden in this room might be problematic.
Do I dare go in and take a look?  What I find may be traumatic.
Having a hidden room in your home is quite climatic.

I decade, against my better judgement, to go in and take a look around.
I walk into the room and notice an absence of sound.
I notice two rooms located towards the back of the main room.
I’m definitely no longer in my bedroom.

I go to the first room and take a look inside.
What I see inside leaves me mouth hanging open wide.
There is a table with straps attached to it,
used to tether someone down and get them to submit.
There are multiple belts, ropes, hand cuffs and *** toys.
The room appears to conceal noise.
Is this the room Chris plans to take me too?
I feel sick, maybe I should bail and tell Chris I’m coming down with the flu.

Nervously and again against my better judgement, I decide to check out the second room.
What I discover…the horrific scene I uncover…leaves me to believe I’m not leaving this house without being placed in a tomb.
I discover a young girl, nearly nine months pregnant chained up looking miserable on the hard, concrete floor.
Tears begin to fall from my eyes as fear overcomes me as to who exactly I have fallen for.
I recognized this girl, it’s the same girl who was rumored to have visited Chris then went missing two years ago.
The same girl he was cleared of having anything to do with her disappearance.
He hid her in this room where she would never be discovered and used her as a *** slave.
This man is depraved.
I ask the girl if she is ok but she doesn’t respond.
The horrors she has had to endure the past two years is beyond
my wildest imagination.
I again ask her if she is ok, this time showing real compassion.
Again, she doesn’t say a word.
She looks at me but her eyes appear to be heavily medicated.
She’s drugged and unable to even speak.
I need to get out of here before this freak…

A hand covers my mouth and a needle is stuck into my neck.
Everything around me immediately turns black.
----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------

My eyes slowly open.
I discover I have been strapped down to the table in the first room.
My body has been stripped naked.
My legs have strapped, spread apart exposing my ****** for the whole world to see.
A gag has been placed in my mouth, I’m unable to speak.
**** is really beginning to look bleak.
“I’m sorry I have to do this to you Erin.
You really are a daring girl who’s fun and caring.
However, you have discovered my dark secret.
Unfortunately for you, it appears my dark secret is about to have a sequel.
I really wanted us to have a real relationship.
I didn’t want it to come to this, I wanted us to have a real, legitimate courtship,
but you had to go snoop around the second I turned my back and found something you shouldn’t have.
Listen to me closely Erin, this will go a lot easier for you if you listen to me and behave.
I want you to answer a few questions for me ok?
Yes or no questions so shake your head to answer.
Did you tell anyone you were coming to my house tonight?”

I shake my head no.

“Did your parents know you were coming here to get help with some homework you were struggling with.”

I shake my head no.

“Did you tell any of your friends you were coming here tonight?”

I shake my head no.

“Ok good, so I have some good news for you.  I’m going to help you with a math problem right now.”

Chris pulls down his pants and exposes himself.

“We are going to find out how many times nine inches goes into you.”

Chris gives me a devilish smile as he gets on top of me and places himself next to the opening of my slit.
My eyes fill with water as tears begin to flood out of them, I’m losing it.
Chris gives me a kiss on the check then forcefully and without warning thrusts all nine inches of himself into my ****** slit.
Blood pours out of me as I go to scream out in pain but the gag won’t permit it.
He trusts back and forth over and over again going harder and harder each time.
I wanted this moment to be sublime,
instead my body begins shaking uncontrollably as pain invades and conquers.
This whole situation is ******* bonkers.
After twenty minutes of being badly abused the pain becomes to much.
My eyes close and I black out to the world around me.
-------------------------------------------------------------­------------------------------------


Knock.
Knock.
Knock.

“Sar­gent Armstrong what an unpleasant surprise.
What brings you by so early in the morning, did a family member of mine die?”

“I’m searching for a missing girl; name is Erin Sanders.
She’s a student of yours.
The second student of yours that has gone missing within the past two years.
Allow me to be clear.
Turn her over and this will go a lot smoother for you.
You don’t want this to turn into a moment you will live to rue.”

“Sorry Sargent, I have no idea where she could be.”

“I know she came here after school hours last night to get extra help from you.
Her best friend provided us with that clue.
She also told us that Erin was in love with you and was coming over here to sleep with you.
Since you have a thing for young girls, I’m sure she was an excellent *****.
Is she still sleeping in your bed right now?”

“Sorry Sargent but Erin isn’t here.
I will admit that I had her scheduled for some extra help last night but she never showed.
She’s my best student and I was skeptical that she actually needed help,
so, I’m not surprised to hear that she told her friend she was going to try to sleep with me,
but she must have gotten cold feet because she never showed.
Sorry I couldn’t be more help; I really do hope you find her and she’s ok.”

“We got a call from your neighbor as well who told us he saw a young girl stop over at your house last night around six.
Now Chris, your starting to look like you’re about to **** bricks.
He told us he saw the girl, who matched Erin’s description, come over dressed “provocative” and then disappear inside your house.
He told us she never came back out as of this morning.”

“Well he must be mistaken.
If she was here, wouldn’t her care still be parked here?”

“Your neighbor told us that late last night he saw a man that resembled you come out of the house and move the car the girl was driving to an unknown location.
I know she’s here Chris, so stop the charade.
If you allow me in your house, we can sort this whole thing out and it will go a lot easier for you.
It’s time for you to confess to your wrong doings, it’s long overdue.”

“You know I had nothing to do with that girls’ disappearance and was proven innocent of any wrong doing.
Keep bullying me and harassing me I might just have to contemplate suing.”

“Well if this is just some big misunderstanding, why don’t you let me in and we can sort it out quick.”

“You need a warrant to come into this house, Sargent.”

“I will have a warrant in a few minutes so don’t get to comfy Chris.
Don’t think about fleeing either, I have officers stationed all around your house in case you or the girl try anything.”

“See you soon Sargent.”

My eyes open to the sound of two men talking.
I originally heard knocking.
It sounds like the police are here looking for me,
but I’m nowhere near being freed.
The police won’t find this room if they search the house.
There’s no hope, I’m a prisoner here.
A *** slave for Chris to **** and reproduce with.
That book case should be considered a monolith
because no one is moving it to find us girls be tortured back here.
All hope is truly gone.

Tears fall from my eyes just as Chris smiles and closes the front door on the Sargent knowing even with the warrant they won’t find what they are looking for.

We pull
the Humboldt
out of the water.

Sometimes
they eat each other,
and we pull
up
shredded hooks
clotted
with white meat.

Sometimes
they
scramble
underneath the surface
and the film of water
separating us
from them
becomes pink and flashing.

We pulled up
a black
saucer
of an eye
one night.

It clung
to a hook
by
pink strings of optic muscle.

Our flashlights
put little continents of light all over its placid, black surface,
and I felt human sadness
some type of animal-human
empathy,
it ****** me up so much
that I threw the line overboard
again,
almost hitting Nestor in the face,
with an un-baited hook.

Our hauls
are getting smaller.

The carnivores
used to jump
into our boats,
slicking
the planks with an excretion
the consistency of placental fluid.

Now,
sometimes dusk burns
as
we yank
seaweed,
seagrass,
and
toilet seats
over the prow;
our bodies tenebrous;
straining with the line
like warriors
stabbing the sea.

One day while traversing in a far off land,
I happened upon a path in the road,
With no signs or direction it cut through the mountains,
And seemed to stretch into another world.

Walking along the basalt path,
I saw the world become a colorful plain,
Stretching and abounding in every which way,
I seemed to float on a river that was not even there.

And suddenly, I came across a great tree,
With a large snake a twain the branches,
And beneath in a shallow spring,
Were draped men with eyes red from crying, and faces dark for lack of sleep.

I approach the tree and humbly bow,
Drawing attention from the snake,
I hear a soft hiss near my ear asking,
“Why do you bow to me?”

I say: Good snake, I mean no harm,
I simply bow to avoid you biting me, and injecting your hateful poison,
For I am trespassing upon your land,
And only wish to be polite.

The snake laughed as only a snake can,
And leaned down to me,
“Young man you are welcome upon my land,
For you see these men are here by choice.

These men are here by choice and theirs alone,
And I shall not lie,
They begged for me to poison them,
Because misery is their new life.

My poison has rotted their brains to miserable husks,
And now they relax and wallow oblivious here,
Thrown here by those they did once trust.
I sit and watch them because I am curious to know.

I am curious to see if they simply forget where they are,
Let go of the side and fall into the pool and die?
Or if they will give in to my poison,
And keel over and die?

However none of them have let go yet,
For as miserable as they are they know they are not alone in this pool,
Even though they do not feel it they know there are others here,
And misery is company best served.”
I continued along until I saw two shapes in the distance,
As I neared I saw what seemed to a large stone,
And the other, from the look of the shadow,
A needle.

When I approached I saw two things at an impasse.
What I first mistook as a stone was a large cloak,
That was in fact occupied,
But by whom I could not see.

The other was simply a mirror,
A plain old mirror,
With I humbly took time to admire,
My own visage.

To which I said Good Morning,
And I was echoed in reply,
And to my surprise,
Whoever was in the cloak spoke as well.

“ Do not look into the mirror,
Do not speak, or it will speak back to you,
And with every word you say, it will twist and repeat,
Until you no longer know, if the mirror is you or if you are the mirror.”

I then turned to look at the piece of glass,
And it seemed to explode before my eyes,
Until it became a plethora of eyes, eyes that were mine,
And within each one I could see a malice and hatred that was beyond my design.

This creature then, I ventured to my quiet companion,
Why is it here?
“It is here because it hopes that one day,
A man will come and in his loneliness begin conversing with it.

And while they converse and his loneliness is eased,
The creature will creep oh so silently,
Into his head, and will whisper,
All the dark things he has dreamed since he was made.

And he will whisper all day and night,
Until the man can no longer distinguish his own voices,
From the ones in his head.”
I suddenly became afraid and turned my back on the demonic glass.

So why are you here, I asked the cloaked man.
“I alone can keep this beast here,
Because I will never speak to it.
And as long as I am silent towards it, it can never conquer me.

You see, I am scared,
I am afraid of people; I find them difficult to trust,
And what they may do to me worries me so,
Just talking to you now, is making my hands shake.
So silent and afraid of people I may be,
By sitting here I hope that I may do the world some good yet,
Do not weep for me; I am lonely, yes,
But I can only believe, that it is better to be alone and hale, than among others and hurt.”

I tried to offer the poor man, a sign of my appreciation,
But he shied away from my hand,
And not to seem rude, but when I looked back at the mirror,
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me.

I then came, to a sea of tall wheat,
A field, a beautiful field,
Endless it stretched beyond my eyes,
And seemed to meet the horizon.

As I was walking through the grass,
Almost lost in a trance in the summer sky,
I saw a glorious sight.
A man dancing through the grass.

His face was shining with a smile I so rarely see,
And his features were more than a man, an Olympian was he,
He leaped and laughed, and sang aloud,
As the wheat erupted in sweet smelling smoke, from the fire that alit were he fell.

I approached him,
Astounded by his glee,
And asked him of his fire,
And how such a phenomenon could be.

He hugged me, in such a tight embrace,
And roared with such laughter when he saw the surprise on my face,
“My friend, it is the summer and such a happy time!
I am alive; I am afire with the sun’s light!

And as the sun shines, so do I
But I must make the time last, from morning to night,
Because I am ever aware that with every moment passed,
Winter is sooner to grasping me yet.

And when winter comes,
My smiles will vanish with sun,
And my body will become frozen,
A black and tenebrous mess, for I will always be close to death.

But do not fret, for now, I am alive!
So let us dance, and sing
Drink and eat,
For no matter how time passes, the sun will always rise again.”

No matter how much fun it could have been,
My friend was sad I could not stay,
And so I walked on,
And found the ocean that has no name.

So I passed underneath all the magnificent waves,
And saw all the faces of people I loved forever,
As I drifted towards the horizon,
And passed between night and day.

oh the overcasting
dreary weather
the sun just looks sooooo
grey
oh damb you my sweet sweet sunshine
why'd ya hafta go away?

oh the sky
looking suspicious
ominous is my
dark and sunless sky
now tenebrous an so dull
as I often wonder why
as I find a sweet moment
in the a lull,
an clouds above are full,
so then you know that I
I must anticipate the cry,
....oh sigh...

we -
just plodding along
the clouds now form
in a flowing heavy floor
I hear stomping godly feet
an then the slamming of a door
boy it sure looks now so moody
an it's hard to just ignore

oh I say baby
it is like a leaden sky load
a heavy mess of pain in dear heaps
raining here now
on my dear sweet sweet abode
that man how he weeps an he weeps
he waters my garden now too
everywhere his loving
just seeps and it seeps
as his joy and his pain
it just reaps and it reaps,

oh back through the earth
an then back to the sea
as he pines after her
yes his sweetest Daphne,
oh his wonderful love
oh where you might be?

an but to be the God
of all that
sweet poetry
prophecy
medicine and
Light?
I just don't know why he must cry
I guess it must be that **** night
because then he must wait again- ignite
looking for his lover Daphne
that she'll be in his sight
then making sweet love again
all will be alright
sigh

so as he burdens my deary sky
tho I shall not be depressed
I might hafta go an ask him why
is he is feelin so distressed
when to be the God of what I say everything
I'd say that man is blessed
but perhaps he don't remember
a memory repressed?

oh an it's a-comin dark again
in shadows falling quick
reluctantly he goes behind
mountains
but feeling low an thick
he needs so much to shine on
it's left him feeling sick

he needs your sweet waters deep,
to cry your nector
must be
he only wants to worship you lover
the way he is worshipped too,
you see,

he is a-cryin my sky
becuz my dear he's just
waitin
on your sweet sweet love again.

Ma Cherie @ 2017

Oh wasted talent, neglected excellence,
how you enter the light every day, always leaving a black abyss
full of attitude, and rude remarks, offensive words that sting
long after you’ve crept back into your world of tenebrous isolation
we feel the effects, like a wave of negativity

you position yourself south of everyone comfortably north
repelling love, and understanding, but you’re not lonely
No you’ve found the ultimate alternative,
An imitation reality, like McDonald’s food,
Never quite  able to equal greatness, nothing worth praise, almost a waste
A great façade, a fake

Your glossy eyes and lethargic mannerisms tell all
Higher than life, Psh you don’t need us!

But don’t you know? Weren’t you told?
There’s a better way to get high,
why not… … take a drag of the cigarette of friendship,
or a hit of creativity?
These things will far surpass the boundaries of ecstasy

But no,
you sit
and you sleep
senses dulled
eyes glued shut
you reside complacent in a prison to which only you hold the key!

Don’t you know the greatness you could be?
I do because I can see, past the cloudy eyes,
beyond the stinging comments,
I can see the successful well educated man you continually refuse to be.

It hurts and pains me every day getting up from my seat taking the world away,
and on the desk where you used to sit,
is a pile of class work and lessons, that you call *******.

stop now, before the poison penetrates too deep,
save the dying man,
the long list of what you could be
times are tough and temptation is hard to fight,
just remember that salvation is close and it is in sight,
Ask for help and you shall receive,
let in the light and shut out the fog,
not one inky hint should remain,
time is running low, and faith is hard to find….
just once, sincerely try to open your eyes,
take advantage of the time that you have left
because when this years over,
it will be time well spent.

she was the definition of not quite there
yet there all the same
she wore frills and colors when her mind was set
on success
she was unconventional beauty
effortlessly wandering
through his brainwaves and
to his heartstrings
she kissed and told
him she loved him
they filled eachother with promises kept
forever and never did they
harbour a secret in their hearts
which were torn each in a unique way
and each readily sought to mend the other
she shook when she was nervous
yet tremors hadnt bothered her
like so many times before
before he was there
before she felt his arms around her
before her heart skipped a beat
when she felt his soul touch hers
light eminated
life luminated

she gave herself to him
mind and body
readiness and wonder
limited exploration
with all greedy eyes and hands and lips

touch proved fatal to the innocence
a stare held more than three thousand words
spoken with fluidity
or meaning ever could
a stare into eyes like stars
like amethyst
like rainfall
a stare that stroked the heart
that stormed the brain

they who walked on planets hand in hand
never blinded by opression
or ignorance
arrogance or falsehood
but by love and love alone

he who would give her infinity
and she who would embrace it

clarity can be found in the most tenebrous abyss

There was a parasitic insect

That feigned amiable things

Oblivious to its beguiling exoskeleton

She never checked under its wings

Where the glistening wanes to a tenebrous coal

A stench that reeks of rancor and mold

Until the monoxide indifference

Is bitterly experienced

She’s unable to breathe in the truth

Suffocating on this deadly weapon

She sees with a new sense of clarity

That she was lured towards false prosperity

Unbeknownst

Naivety attended its own wake

And was sacrificed along with trust and faith

So we sing along to another somber song

And disperse the soil defiled

By the parasitic insect that plagues the thoughts within us

Unable to fathom exile

Twisted shadows creep forth...
morphing into…
desolation

cries seep through
my skin

thereafter, darkness
engulfs me…
consumes me…
devours my inner being, my essence

thence...
a dark spiritual cocoon...
tainted
revamps that which
was to be righteous
into something more…
perfect

morphed into forlornness
I awake, galvanized

only tenebrous ambitions
are left

malevolent perfection is amongst