Give me the sky
And I will soar
Among the mighty clouds

Grant me the wind
And I will fly
Beneath the radiant sun

Dare me to dance
And I will learn
Upon a golden lit stage

Lend me an ocean
And I will sail
Farther than the tides

Make me a promise
And I will trust
Grasping to it forever

Bring me a melody
And I will write
Stringing lyrics by starlight

Join me in life
And we will laugh
Finding joy side by side

Wuthering secrets of long past times
Forgotten romances of heartened crimes.
Christening crinkles twilling frosted echoes atop damped dervishes of your fragile mind.

Shelling out are withering bones of decaying, eternal, mindless vines.
Encasing slithery crevices eradicating dusted  wintered shadowed lines.

Binding the sainted ****** where upon the shore of gloried day breaks of the lost door.
Listen to the howls of the wind--
as all of creation stirs about & about
Never the less, simply this.
To again, never to.

Driven off the cliff of insanities thrills unto the shivers of the unrested, splintered and torn.
Forevermore, oh how dreadful!
Namelessly unplaced, vacantly ashamed! Lonely and untamed, gratefully kept at bay!

There's something majestic, yet also extremely gloomy, about a streetlight at night in the rain. Something, some unplaced dimension within the echoing cars and within the particles of water, as they spray...into oblivion*

Mother, do you recall that rainy day?
The day my gumboots soaked through,
I beleive we were waiting for a bus. It was one of those city rains, when all you could dream of was home or the warmth and comfort. When all you wanted was a bath and hot-chocolate or another item of food, steaming with love. Mother, I remember holding to you're body for warmth as we sat under that old wooden bus shelter.
I clung to you're body and melted into you're lingering scent, you're falling breath and you're human form.
You held me, you hid you're shivers so as to warm mine.
We watched the cars spray etheral mist into the orange lights of the city.
We watched lovers rush by under umbrellas, we watched rain curve down the cement like a snake on it's own journey.
We listened,
oh did we ever listen, we ate up the noise, the stories within the rain, we cuddled until we felt the warmth from our bellies rise out of us like smoke or a dragons breath, tainting the air.

I, you're daughter. You, my mother.

You're long hair curling down your breast. Me, like a little berry scrunched up as close to you as I could get. Like our bodies would drip into each other as one, our breath the same. Only my gulps of air came much sooner and you silently resisted my subtle games. When the huddling was done you reached out to me with you're strong hands and you led me along the night of echoes. I can't remeber much else, asides from sitting with you in the empty pizza shop as we both savoured and satisfied our cravings for comfort. Cold-handed laughter as we danced over the most delectable pizza.
Then we caught the bus home, you sat on the red leather, grabbing the creamy yellow bar, I jumped onto the ratty blue seat beside you and leaned once again into you're body, melting into sweet harmonies.
Eating in the sounds of humans and the sound of the bus, splashing through water
and journeying on through the deep
and endless city night.

plea of oddities: bring the tinkling back
its bell lies silent


1.
Existing (not entirely) alone
entertaining itself with nightmares witnessed from long ago
It waited and waited
until the neighbour-orb grew to a level sophisticated enough
to house that lovely assortment of fine specimens.. of females
       that flock of dusted-crystals so long dreamt of
       that mould of sensibility, that plug of warmth
       that banner of softness
which all mirrored the opposite of their ways


2.
they fled in quiet-rebellion from inhospitable hands of the boor-males
altogether, in a ship.. down into the bowels of their breaking planet
subtleties long abandoned by the barbed-wire handling of  rough hands
these gentles could take no more and *uncoupled themselves for good
burning, like the bridges behind them
               they disconnected and slid into a nether-sphere

When the males woke in stupor to find them gone
                 they flipped and fed in anger
and with access to goodness gone and unplaced voracious appetites
It decided to encase them.. in a giant glass-jar, preserving them in ire
until the time was right.. like a tea awaiting perfect steeping
In stasis, they remained for what seemed aeons
the glass-jar which held this army of men, was reduced
became small, like a coin.. which Foog summarily swallowed
and waited . . .  


3.
The sun turned its face in blank-horror of severe sights
                                                               splayed across the surface
forests shrank to toothpicks and died
         blue seas curled and dried
                                 meadows melted to greyish slush
every flying creature lost gravity and got ****** away, too high..
                                                        into harsh deafening-holes
when the tall sentries of oxygen.. twisted and became wiry-distorted
the sky sank and folding itself up.. hid in a black corner
                               behind the crumbling mountains

Foog hid beneath a crater made of ice, on the dark side of said planet
and once every millennium
        it felt the colliding-smack of a passing planetessimal
and it swore that somewhere, somehow..
        that punishment awaited new life

So, it shut its senses to the bay of life
       while hankering viciously for the scream of warm blood
The bell-jar inside, silent and
                        also somehow.. obscenely waiting in its oblivion



4.
Then, came Earth spinning round in flourish.. oh, the day on hand
Yet, veryyyyy far away.. an eye slowly opened
                      / /  roused by the smell of fressshhh life . . . / /



5.
A popping sound and the bell-jar was birthed from a slit on its forehead
It looked nearly quizzically at this odd creation beneath the silent-glass
this assortment of creatures trapped in the folly of Foog:
                                                                ­     oh, shall I, or not?
A cosmic joke, almost.. with so few revisions
The lid lifted and with proportion righted once more..
                                they came, oozing out in droves
Roaring from their milleniac-slumber,
                               crazed in half-remembered wounds
But alive with burning-purpose - - to find the equivalent
of
those soft-crystals

To melt the iron.. inside.



(unsolicited but self-warranted visitations:
camouflaged abductions.. secret prodding..
subtlety re-learnt.. poverty rehashed..
Fugue in a glass bell-jar.. unleashed)  



But alas, when sweet-sounds are closed again
see at whose smart-hands calamity befalls Life
Yet.. who are ultimately the ones
picking up the pieces after devastation wrought?




st, 27 march 2014

No Garden awaits here, I am Stone
You are Water, so We are lost
Gardener: tend my arid places

Hope for me when I have nothing
Be my Rock to future flowers

Maybe there are none left me
Masada palaced and unplaced
Our longest dreams of lions

Now is now, a furled fist
Behind my back and seen
Not at all and never again
So it never happened, we all
Agree
~*~
Read Me all the Poemes You Fynde
My Rising shall Be just to Hande
I Arise to Illustrate Your Care

Earn thus Existential Tendril
Iambic grace, Rarest remonstrance
Pentameters helplessly Entwine
Willow so Willing to Your taste

I will take your hand
Lead you far and a-
fielding

A great song eats strange hours
Horses know, wielding such power
A-stamping and snorting
Horses born crazy, now bending tame
Never underestimate planetary power
To lay you to ground

Sleeping, a runaway,
One changling thing who clings
Inside sweat-soaked dream burrows
No evasion, no escape

In such wild grown tall goddess
Places, clinging to a broken bit
A knuckle’s worth of bitter
Traded for a kiss

All is well

Unplaced, uncalled for sadness is the worst;
Like a ****, it sprouts up
In some crack within my ribcage.

I don't understand the sadness.
It goes ignored and disregarded
Because I can't place why it began to grow,

And it'll just continue to grow
Until it takes over my body,
Growing by the streams down my cheeks.

I can't place my finger
On how you became so distant
And different
And difficult to tolerate.

I can't place my finger
In between the salt water trails
Down my cheeks because it won't
Stop them from flowing.

I can't place my finger
On how I precisely feel,
Or why I randomly cry,
Or why the stars make me feel so small every night.

I can't place my finger
On the moment when you became
A face in photos that I vaguely stare at
In attempts to remember who you are.

I can't place my finger
On why the sadness creeps up
And camps out in my chest,
And bangs pots and pans so I can't sleep.

I can't place a finger on your hand
When you're lonesome,
When you're tired;
I can't be there for you.

I can't place a finger
On the moment when I became the past.
I can't place a finger
On the moment you decided to let my words be the last ones spoken.

I can't place a **** finger
On my own valves and stop the blood
Pumping through my veins because if the pumping ceased,
So would these endless nights and thoughts.

Granted I can't place a finger
On why I'm so "damaged",
As you would say;
I'm not sure why I am perpetually in limbo between extremities.

I just can't place my finger
On why I even care so much;
I promise it's not because I miss us.
I'm quite fine without.

I can solely place my finger
Upon the fact that I'm out here
Blazing a trail on my own,
And I'm scared as hell I'll waver and trail down into the darkest parts of my being,

And just remain there, sleeping on the dark path that is carved out in my heart where only these thoughts resurrect themselves and lie down with me too, long enough for me to forget how to place my fingers into a fist and fight them off; I can't place a finger on why I'm fighting in the first place, why sometimes I place a finger to my face and there are streams of unplaced, uncalled for sadness and delusion.

It had fallen and all was awash with ash
Burning what was once valued cash
I held on to it, a motion unknown I'd slash,
No time for pity food would be stashed.

I wore my mask in this bleak dead time
All was chaos but I'm no longer in my prime
Survival was an uphill struggle at times a climb.
If they were near the bells would chime.

Could I depend on others, eyes never seen
Masks hiding truths behind shaded screens,
We were survivors a group no more than eighteen  
The stupid thing I miss the taste of caffeine.

Random I know but Jesus that taste,
But that was a different time now all erased.
Gone with the ash, now humanity unplaced
I wear this mask, a sign of humanity disgraced.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,                  
    Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
  Or such as pasture and grow fat among
    The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
  Or pious spirits with a God above them
  To sanctify and glorify and love them,                      
    Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

  For none of these I write, and none of these
    Could read the writing if they deigned to try;
  So may they flourish in their due degrees,
    On our sweet earth and in their unplaced sky.            
  If any cares for the weak words here written,
  It must be some one desolate, Fate-smitten,
    Whose faith and hopes are dead, and who would die.

  Yes, here and there some weary wanderer
    In that same city of tremendous night,                    
  Will understand the speech and feel a stir
    Of fellowship in all-disastrous fight;
  "I suffer mute and lonely, yet another
  Uplifts his voice to let me know a brother
    Travels the same wild paths though out of sight."

There is a certain unplaced quality to the whole thing
Like it was never planned to look as it does
And the fact that it is the part that we aren’t supposed to see has always appealed to me
The ripples and cracks
Fissured by time
As a clash between flux and permanence
And will bent by entropy
A rusted staircase like a lonely island dangling and looking weak and unsafe
And who knows maybe it is
For the paint is chipped black frosted like ice
But it is hot and the air is heavy
As it always feels in a place like this
For there is rapture in a place that feels like it does not belong
And like you do not belong there
I contemplate the number of feet that stood right where I stand
I think about the installation of such things
I think about the man who stood and wrote his name in paint
About how that got bent like that
About when that wall fell down and when that glass broke
The stories that touched this particular spot only for that brief moment
The stories in which this is not even a footnote
Where the organic flux meets the rigid industrial
And all coalesces into a barren scape hidden away
And forgotten for it fits in neither picture
As the romance of the days that it saw beautifully have long been realized as nostalgic and useless
And a brick may fall and hurt someone
Or they may just tip their hat and continue on their way
But despite all these things I have a sense of blindness
And sublime captured by a world of temporary distinction

and baby,
i will never forget the lyrics
to that song,
our song
that only we will dance to

do you remember?
where every note i pull you close
where every beat i kiss your lips
where every pulse i feel your heart

sometimes we dance,
where every two steps
we both spin in circles
around, and around,
dizzy, unplaced

those two steps away
confused, misplaced
alone, with others,
yet those two steps are okay
because eventually
those two steps
lead us back to dance

our way.

I return to the cold hallways i once remained.    
I swallowed the tasteless pill of depression
And sunck deep with her warm embrace.
So far into the wasteland
Diving into the stark blinded sight i now see though.
I don't know how to get though my sadness
My pain
My unplaced love.

My ears cannot hear
My eyes can't see
My mouth cannot speak
And my mind cannot tell the truth.
How am i ment to continue on?
How can anyone.
But i do not chose death
Nor do i chose life.

"Loosing weight is weird" I think as I stare at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I don't feel how I thought I would. My anticipated joy had turned to relief, a burden I no longer had to bear.
My soul has always been chaotic-always waging wars against itself, so of course this too would bring conflict.
The clothes that clung snug to my skin are now too baggy. Clothes I finally felt confident after years of searching for what worked, what didn't, what was flattering, what wasn't.
And now I'm looking up how to shrink everything
And my ******* aren't as full..
sloping and drooping down without being rounded by fat;
like tissues stuffed in a bra that's just slightly too big.
Not to sound ungrateful, because I love this new body (it's an answer to prayer really; taking away the edge of my insecurities) but I suppose it feels a little foreign.
Like a best friends house you practically grew up in: completely memorized in its familiarity; marked by memories, a home away from home, but still not the place you called "home".
And I spent so long learning how to love this body; accepting her flaws, her imperfections, but never quite convincing myself, only to have to relearn again.
And in some ways that makes me...sad?
I don't have another word for it.
Maybe it's a grieving, for the part of me that was a part of me for so long; a part I scolded and criticized.
And I hate myself at times.
Because I was my own bully-projecting my insecurities with verbal lashings.
All because I had this idea that if I was prettier, skinnier, I would feel more wanted and less alone...that it was the missing piece to my happiness.
And the assumed projections of strangers thoughts bombarded me into thinking there was truth in those hauntings,
because somewhere down the line, at an unknown moment in my subconscious, beauty became abundant.
I should get used to this changing skin, because life and age will always be forcing it to keep up, to adapt; It will continue to expand and sag and wrinkle and crease.
And I hope I can learn to love those foreign bodies too, though not so unfamiliar....
                           just unplaced.