The only thing
keeping him sane
and
taming his demons,
the only thing
soothing his pains
and
vaporizing his worries
was the
night sky...
He knew,
he was falling hard
for night sky
but could do nothing
about it..
As Love has its very own
strange ways
to captivate a Heart !!

I love the sound
of fresh papers
as they come
crinkling and
crackling out of
the package,

the aroma
of citrus and earth,
sweet smelling grass,

the sensation
of stickiness,
dulled spikes
of fresh stems,

the sight
of red orange flames
lapping up
crisp white paper,
of translucent
gray smoke
whisping
out of the small
opening of a pipe's mouthpiece,

the taste
of wisdom, sage, and ash,
vaporizing my insides,
filling my lungs
and brain
full of poetic fumes;

I love to break
you
down,
roll you up,
set you ablaze,
and
inhale
you,
vaporizing my insides,
filling my heart
and brain
full of poetic fumes.

I love to
get
high
off you;

I don't want
to
ever
get
clean.

Let's
roll
another.

Although flummoxed by the gabble of hibernaculum I seethe with the verdant quiddity that is a cross-pollination that spans the gamut of historical memory and owns the usucaption of infrastructure equipping our bootstrapped capacities of literacy tethered to the ecumenical capacity for proliferation through amplified discernment that percolates at decorative gallop into the stridor of unified apothegms that quantify the visibilia of the broadened universe into the nexility of formula bounded by the parameters that equip synergies of space-time to envelope its own reification and magnetize urbane freebooters of coalescence to grapple with the ineffable mathematics of absorbed losses in the human fraternity becoming overlooked because of the providence of shepherded acrimony to escape the oblivion of barely marginal exponential extinctions of impropriety into fast-paced panoramas of expedited dalliance with optimums constrained by the effluvia of hinderbaggle which exist only by domineering mercurial lability of manufacture enabled by the siphon of Promethean reason to catapult the slogmarch of advancement by punctuated achievements registered by canonical gravitas to revolutionize society in longevity and interplanetary awareness that places a 1000:1 premium on a 165 IQ in comparison to a 110 IQ. Although bewildered by the beaucoup of raxed originality the anoegenetic flux of slogan achieves but a petty solidarity in comparison to the galvanized bronteum of registered invention that provides decisively seminal locomotive prowess to the foisons of promulgated ingenuity propped up by the capacity for raltention that exceeds the inherent longevity of humans on Earth into the permanence of memory to achieve radical vanguard frontiers within diminishing frames of a once vapid time recorded only through the lens of finicky preoccupations of crude retention rather than the kinship of the perceptive unity of the authors who remarked on history to share the same vantage with the distant onlookers upon that very history with such a convergence of judgments the photons that trespassed on inquisitive eyes of inquierendo are the very same blueprint for the modern savory traipse with selfsame perceptions embedded in canonical history like the spool of an exact daydream unfurled before inoculated eyes differentiated by context but achieving the same visual footprint of historical lineament provided by the original exemplar. The luxury of our provisional prosperity is the unique ability to browse spontaneously a two-century travail of perceptible records embedded in the same perceptual rudiments captured by the original vetuda thereby enabling the specificity of prowess to vicariously encounter distant gulfs of time with the simultaneous realization of past becoming present tense because beyond the revisionism of the censors the human lineage originates in approximated design tethered to the aboriginal photographs and hallmark expenditures of celluloid digitized into annealed constellation to provide separate junctures in space time with the same indelible percept decontextualized but potent by showcase of the verdure of the generosity of shared perception rather than cleaved faint traces of divergent imagination conceiving junctures by distal lurches of insular harbors of private registries of tact and discretion without the shared raltention of the plevisable entities that populate the fragmented lineage of space-time to achieve full congruence in percept first and abstract eventually as neuroscience slogmarches with the nockerslug of invidious depredation of sanctanimity. Adrift in iconoduly sustained by lambent monasticism of abnegation we were lost widows of insular idiosyncrasies of similar concepts separated by the longevity of imagination redacted into communicable formula to ensure the divergence of impact of liturgies heterodyne by vast distances but linked to archaic designs that formed the paradigms which eventually merged with the wiseacres of Renaissance conserved in momentum over centuries into the information capital that forms the futtocks of the girdle of a womb matrix of society sustained by a newfangled uniformity of exposure that slowly churns the collectivism of memory and the syndication of the cartel into the ubiquity of prominent thorns of perception magnified by iconography of the megalography of historical permanence evasive of censors and embracing the entelechy of coherent perceptions siphoned by different engineers but arriving at precisely the same conceptual imprint thereby unifying the perceptual world with the usucaption of leveraged networking of browsers of antiquity. The finesse of leapfrogs of modern human impediment is to scour the reaches of the troves of the most vivid imagination and expedite the turnstiles of conserved rollercoasters of enthusiasm probed by the cadasters capable of castophrenia to syndicalize the autonomy of human perception sejungible from indelible vivid footprints of abstraction upon an interface of truly hard-won vehicles of transmissible abstraction to win the arduous relish of once a vacuum of infested instinct into an algorithm of an intelligent source that creates the precise conditions of parallax to seed through celestial hosts the flourishes of stereodimensional traces of permanent cadaster into something that elects beyond the ethereal snatches of oblivion the provisional apportionment of sentiment above continence to set ablaze the rarefaction of raltention and quantify the intelligible impact of one artifact of civilization over the constellated taxonomy of all apothegms within the divine grasp of a sublunary eternity revived and recycled into syndicated scrutiny that bows to a convergent entelechy of instantaneous improvisation of perdurable registry into indemnities that litigate the humorous quizzical trangams of vastly outmoded obsolescence borrowing from panspermatism of technocracy to the edgy appeal of scintillating horizons of peerless scope that approximate the ommateum of approximated omniety but never span far enough for the distant riometers to see for deputized galaxies to be evoked in concrete human-alien achievements sempervirent and virulent guardians of the toil of sensation to refract off of its overhang because of redundant upbringing to shelve the incendiary impediments of the chary into the corsairs of revelation beyond gamuts of lurch and bypassing elapsed regress to arrive at ceremonial progress to trespass upon many minds with a unified concrete hypostasized entelechy of a fielded incorporation of organic life into a manufactured cycle of the most prolonged and beatific longevity capable of digestion and implementation from the toolsheds of hubris accelerated by the vainglory of subsidized harmonies that break through the barriers of language to sprout convergence in direct opposition to entropy to achieve oculate ommateum.The opponents to the logical syndicalism of positivism emergent as the verdant drape of homogenized pasteurization of raw lavaderos that capsize swallock and devour consciousness with predatory mobilism is the tregounce of the ponderous imprints of recapitulated stupidity which is easy to quantify in terms of human rarity because the difference between a 130 IQ and a 155 IQ is a difference in ingenuity power than exceeds 25:1 or an even higher margin of liquidation of indebted concatenations forming the flombricks of capitalized language finessed into burgeoned growth to radically shift postulates into abstract precision that observes the flanges of the dominion of inculcation into the filibusters of gainsay that supersedes hearsay in an evolution of the dialectic to exert transformative esemplastic rejuvenation that transcends creed and ingeminates the festivity of spectacle with the alvantage of albenture to such an extent it predicates new modalities of persiflage grounded on the aggressive patented expansion of the noosphere to inherit the instincts of orthobiosis while simultaneously inheriting the flair of redoubled ingenuity swarming with the vespiaries of predatory discretion working to ***** out glaring beacons of sapience so that intellectual capital is a local rather than ubiquitous emergence because of the prizes of urbacity enhanced by systems of masonic creed that preserved foresight with varying degrees of exactitude knowledgeable about outcomes but incidental in creating those outcomes out of the alchemy of the convergent sphere of spacetime to curve to synclastic pancratic refinement realized in the taxation of the most domineering figures of canon to indoctrinate the inkburch of wernaggle while the panorama of peripheral obscurity adduced by the resourceful few provides the progeny for a seminal equation that encounters the quandaries of precise retention amplified by the synergies of language exponentially grown by the depth and breadth of lexicon siphoned through mechanisms of percolation seeded by the convergent progeny of hindsight meeting foresight to a truce in the elected interests of the filagersion of the spotlight highlighting a universe that only exists with self-aware reification rather than plodding animated instincts of a stagnant match with a slowpoke evolution that scrawls the gabble of the vacuums of faint oblivion knowing only pain, agony and brief felicity but never registered into ecosystems capable of enriching themselves with artifices of origination rather than vapid retrenchments of the stale vapor of the exigencies that plague the intellectually bereft with tertiary deskandent perfunctory desuetude outstripped by the parsecs of the 170 crowd who secretly orchestrates the think tanks that run the furtive cryptadia of regional governance with foisons of fruition realized as dividends of exponential bypasses of even a linear route of the streamline by warping time itself to a spontaneous entelechy that triangulates a warped trigonometry that fathoms what can only be mapped on an imaginary flickering plane of fluxed existence that achieves sub-Pythagorean travel by altering the vacillating distances predicated by the theory of relativity into shortened tracts of abbreviation separating the bridgewaters of locomotion from the vast lurking prowess of reconfigured geometries lurking beyond the shadowy grave of reconnaissance into the penumbra of conservatory refinement. The punctual symmetries of thermodynamic decay met with a conversant offset in reverse acceleration of thermolysis converge with the centripetal prism of annulment to make stalemates of atomic precision appear grandiose to the economic principle of leverage acquired by debt because the discounted cost of symmetrical approximations of sentiment, abstraction and the already syndicated unity of perception vastly scale the scope of the reach of the amenable universe to tractions bound more by eccentricity of parameterized volumes of competing hyperbolas of a warped unity of tugging forces spawned by the differential weights of a flummoxed calculus that provides obeisance in ecumenical uniformity that was absent by degrees through the tinkers of time to adjust the orbits of consideration by tilted warbles of the songbirds that swim in abysses reaching sizable celestial tutelage providing reprisal for quintessential crudity mapped into a syntax of evolved refinement amplified by conserved concatenation accelerated into mastery by the coalescence of new lexicon to probe conceptual space unchartered by the nexility of normal human conduct and therefore bound to a different pattern of evolution that is oleaginous to the engines of revved ostentation in intellectual prowess that is selfsame from the majesty of heaven because of preordained populace meeting transitory flickerstorms twinged with the irony of discursive disclaimer and discretion of disclosure of emissary vehicles that power synaptic vesicles to burst with signal strength harnessing the unity of conscientiousness into a coenesthesia that fathoms interdisciplinary bridges rarely exacted by the formulas of a more rudimentary mind demarcated in taxonomies of scope that are taxemes for unrealized entelechy bristling against the headwinds of doldrum rather than zephyrs of accelerated approximations of the enumeration of elaborate sveldtang into seminal traversals of the inhibitory grasp of narquiddity exceeded by the alacrity of provident discretion in apportioned judgment enough to parameterize vast distances with instantaneous wiseacres rather than rippled mirrors of faint simulations of simultagnosia bounded by the regional scope of subliminal etches of harnessed flombricks invisible to most aptitude measures of working memory but evocative of subroutines that flourish because of the cross-pollination of exasperated sapience clambering for a perpetuity of renewable raltentions conveyed widely and succinctly in indelible tacenda broached by the wisest sophrosyne inclinations to survive the onslaught of traditional nexilities that make obtuse minds hardened by slowpoke myelination and hidebound parameters of achieved convention recursive on reiteration but not expansive on the tracts of genius reserved for the asylum boundary between insanity of delusion and bountiful riches of harvested non-conventional imagination which sometimes pollutes the integral provenance of rapid conveyance. True transcendence is summarily defined as outpacing pace itself to visibly outfox the forsifamiliation of events perceived as distance sworn by the ability of the accelerated frontier to understand the vestiges of the outmoded to the extent redintegration can surpass with imagination beyond the tethers of quddity that narrowcast swallock but refine the space that distances itself from magnitude and achieves a limited vetuda that phenomenalizes the redacted plucky perjury of self-anonymity to identify a novel visibilia of characterized clarity only specialized to the extent the vast sphere of retention exerts a gravitas over footloose fragments of disunity to surpass the skeumorphs of the trailing bolides of distant comets to avoid by meteoric trajectory the lapse incumbent to E=MC^2 which guarantees implicitly in the barter of nebbich chalky rigmarole that the energy of refinement is an abstraction limited only by the coherence of marginal dumose decay to estrange inertia as plevisable from motion and thermolysis as sejungible in partition what cannot be summarily be filibustered by the succedaneum of shortchanged shorthand convenience of the credulity of those who perceive dynamism of delivery as an easily fudged quandary not restrained by the logarithmic slowdown of conservatory inseminations of panspermatism of invention. The riddle of the enigma of neuroscience that presides over classifiable qualia is that the outstretched rax of rectiserial reorganization must gradatim invoke spurious prestige to predicate the entrapment of narrative exponentially slower than the impregnated literacy of an integral harpsichord of mind to finesse the octaves so that sublime majesties become superlative ringleaders of seditious conventions embedded more by absorptive brocrawlers than expressive werniques. We must fashion an orthobiosis that is leniency embodied but plenitude outnumbered by the progeny of its sculpted riches for extravagant spools of tapestries of refinement to be the imprints of legacy compounded by the complexities of inheritance in lineaments situated in the context of overhanging specters and domineering prospects swimming by commonwealth acatelepsy in a maelstrom of revived gammerstang notions of impetuous apostasy benighted by the macroscian and macrobian spans of the captive capture of a Taylor Series of infinite expenditure assuming perpetuity that necessarily converges on organization because of conscientious reversals of entropy into ladders of betrayal against the hegemony of ******* over the synquests of hortoriginality that spurn the castigations inherited from its immodesty of permutation to fixate on global problems of intricacy ragged in salebrosity bereft of the marginal galvanization of hidden inquirendos into artifice contingent upon elapsed epiphenomena of compounded rigmarole resonant with a simplified system of hostage complicity to a least common denominator that belongs to suboptimal refrains issued by Procrustean forces against demassified parsecs of bounded limitations exceeding the volume of perceptible shadows recessive in the alleles of culture but eventually transmogrified into teetotaler totalitarian principles of grave gravities of tabanids to the aceldamas of territorial joust rather than annealed irony of the recidivism of the plucky thorns of percurrent but latent vehicles for oppression to swamp the lethargy of durative formation such that the hambourne atrocity of hambaskets of hinderbaggle grapple mostly with the adolescent excesses of milked pleonexia becoming the downfall of cagey imprisoned syntax bereft of capable constellation and thereby stranded in vagrant proclivities that net positive only in the rare grandeur of my formative axiom of the axiolative excesses of my recensed definition of transcendence. The vacant harbor of asylum of abiding auctions of flexible transistors of wealth is inherently a poolswap of attractive chocolate-box travestime of incurred wreffalaxity suborning the lewd machination of funneled flipcreeks to the commerstargall of incendiary glaciers basking in boardrooms of ataraxic placations of commiseration found in dynamos lamenting degraded embodiments of regaled regelation as seasonal flictions of submerged vanity vaporizing the wisps of whimsical bloated grievances of paltry imparlance to the defalcation of a filigree of mind only sustained by the steady churlishness of preserved relic hibernating in brocrawler pleonasm to grindole the welter of spates of vapid deceleration of successful vibrancy measured in the gamut of hues to exact a penultimate ruse before the finitude of the capstone of capers of fiat remission slick with glamborge of gallionic sciamachy prone to revelry in the cretaceous extinction of monochromatic mathematicization of gradgrind visagists toying with the treacle of blue-sky action billowed into toxic spurts of contrarian aggression of herculean appendages of hackumber providing the bronteum of recidivism to vanquish a righteous trajectory on a pause of Canada Dry conveniences sultry in daft hipsters of tilted stage grafting conclusion prior to rapport of introduced variables of poignant tethers of necessary succor for a desiccated bastion of hidden unspoken reach fizzling into trangams of obsolescence because of perennial inebriations that thwart strong character to scandalize a pinhoked vessel of conscientious objection to the radiology of centerpiece hapless forlorn arid squelches of the vibrant verdure of macrobian dumose shelter for reformatories that invent incidentally accidents otherwise precluded by the ommateum of wasted foresight guzzled on the premium of disaster for a showcase of verve going awry steamy with livid filagersion aimed with a reluctant enmity against the cagey headwinds of recalcitrance inveterate to the scruples of the otherwise unscrupulous who foist lewd licentious philandered paragons of philogeant mysticism to forefront cowcatchers that eliminate kumbaya rijuice of gridlock impressionism guarded by the sentinels of rambunctious destructive attempts to evict intellectual propriety from careens of subtlety barnstorming with polyacoustic nuances of differential gradients of vapid bastions of strident but backwards versamily froward and bountiful of Head Hunter specters rather than heaved recombinations of orthotropism wed with mangers of savory dilettantism of the lionized array of brooks branching into rivulets and the fluminous barnstorm of pelagic awareness interrupted by the finicky prevarications of piggybacked fair-weather allies who secretly fund the slander for the mainour of dirt fundamental to meteoric rises acclimated to dissipated moral vacuums of disbelief of evidentiary miracles among the jostle of scientific regency that slakes opprobrium to illiteracy while benefiting greatly from my perceived barathrum that is rather a crowning ravenous achievement of appetite above substance and distinction varied from prediction that my Titanic zalkengur spared from the unnecessary sacrilege of less accommodating curglaff to the metaphorical hypothermia of albatross in dramaturgy rather than a pause glowering with mastery against my jarred enemies preying on weakened reach due to preeminent dirges of inkburch and swallock to ravage my sanctity with a hyped stage without a starlet daydream fantasia spectacle that is calculated to upstage even in the coverthrow of intelligentsia against the plodding boweries of pestilential raving resentment absconding with elusive enmity rather than cherishing a true trident champion of the seized seas and the traindeque of emulated intellectual accordions of claptrap chockablock pedigree that outlast gallywow afflictions of rapacious venality tenacious to the detritus of constructive detriment building the ashes of effigy before I am dead and buried with the storge of perennial legacy rather than scandalous privation of the obolary tenets of desecration above reabsorption of mendicant bodges of the bodewash of freedom’s counterstrokes of maskirovka ineradicable and plenipotentiary wit deniable but legacy ineffable by degrees of exponential long-winded flambeaus of filagersion swiveling with recessive rubble in a crenellated fortress guarded with tripwire insubordination against cordslave dependencies liable to recurrent reproach rather than sustainable filigrees of electrified balkanization toxic to the aquifers of modernity streamlining Roman imperium. To this flajoust I owe eternal behest as the captaincy of time is not a perishable whangam of superstition an affront to a provident rejoinder of verifiable prestige because the curvature of time favors the ripple effect of magnetized reninjuble charms alerted to upward soaring skies of inevitable peerless dominion in the  perceived symphily of competing benevolence with a shared stake in Earthly pulchritude emanating a sworn allegiance to the best interests of philosophical enlightenment

Trails Of Love

Breathe in the trail of love
Ice river vaporizing the pain
of old heartaches

The light years afar melt downs
I feared to taste what love had
to give to me

I breathe inside my soul
sweetness of true love  
The sweet abundance of stars
instilling dark

I look to see if I could find
your name in the heavens
Where the moon sings out to the

millions of stars dancing around
That gives out pleasure in the
flowers and the beautiful sea

I feel you my love watching over me
were love is found springing of the year
I hold you near

with love in the air
The beating of two hearts becoming one
It's love that keeps us holding on

Breathe in the trail of love
Ice river vaporizing the pain
of old heartaches

The light years afar a melt downs
I feared to taste what love had been about
Love can be very sweet

When the golden sun is sinking
my heart form care free
when thousands of stars blinking

I must think
did you ever think about me?

Poetic Judy Emery © 1986
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery

You are an unrelenting hurricane,
vaporizing everything in your path.
You are as fluent and necessary as water,
and as viscous as honey at room temperature,
always taking the path of most resistance.
But once you are warm you flow as freely as the sea,
and just as violent too.
And that is why you require a broadened cliff
for your unbridled waves to beat against,
a sturdy bomb shelter for your B-52 flybys;
an eye at the center of your storm,
perfectly peaceful and okay with all that you are.
Because you are the current within veins,
sending action potentials down axons and dendrites,
flooding presynaptic terminals with pieces of yourself.
And you will be someone else’s,
because you deserve all of this and more,
and these are all the things
I could never be for you.

Like a bonfire you are
hard to look away from.
I feel your warmth
even from afar.

Get too close
and your intensity
is vaporizing.

If only you could be
a firefly in a jar,
I ‘d let you out at night
to spread your light,

and I'd bask in the burn you ignite,

but by day
I’d keep you away

in a jar on a shelf.

Unimposing to the objects around.
Visualizing each item with vivid detail.
Haunting the forgotten sleeping synapse.
Hidden deep within the fiber.
Feeling lungs cascading violently.
Sundering pops of adrenaline punctuate.

Shadows cast doubt over courage.
Crossed eyes seeing double vision.
Tranquility forbid the beating heart.
Shaken steadily upon each migraine.
Broken toe acting subtle.

Windows eviscerating the light.
Dimming color and pigments alike.
Dancing brave the wildly fire.
Black and blue, mildly haze.
Images of demon and ghoul take the hour.

Sickened sunken skeletal room.
White tiles caress coldly as ice.
Air circulates with grim agenda.
Hands riddled with obnoxious arthritis.
Brooming the dust, sweeping the fear.

The beautiful black steed champions it away.
Red are the hoofs painting the scene.
Vaporizing the light by any means.
Delegating everything entirely serene.
Shootingstar, throttling deemed.

Brilliant cloud looming so high.
Setting the Sun into the sky.
Benevolent brother opposing shy.
Sorcering wisdom allowing to fly.
Devilish the Moon, waking my eye.

I am the rain, filled up inside the ditch
the flood's rockets shooting to the sky
the black mystery in the electric stars, shocking
vaporizing my waves and the boats float on, plunged, and sinking
and the tidal waves keeps coming and beating whatever hand I throw up
to hold myself onto the plank and I drift away and fade away
in your eyes as they send the whole ocean to me and I'm blown away to
space in a space untraveled, and float without gravity or anything to hold me

and then split in two, one colliding toward earth and back to the ocean to
feel you drowning me with your eyes that echo the waves
and the moonlight fills my soul as the tree of life burns
and back up, far away
I still am floating and going farther, and farther away, entering in the
claustrophobia and the beautiful queen looks at me but can't choose which one,
the floating man who will one day vanish, or the man who keeps drowning with obsession
so, the right decision would be to say neither  
but it doesn't solve anything, really
I kept pulling you inside,
so close until I died under your weight
and the rockets keep shooting up from the depths of the ocean
and I keep looking down at the definition of the shore
and the box keeps opening with new tricks and new
obsessions and the screams echo the screams in your eyes which flood
everything inside of me, and the screams echo the screams
and the screams echo the screams
and I'm poured out, your eyes, your body
it's changed
it's new
somehow
I collapse under your weight and your beauty, if you only knew
the waves and space are one (and could we be, I think, could we be)
yet the screams echo the screams
the screams echo the screams
the screams cannot be heard in space, or underwater
*but that doesn't mean they aren't there

People move in and out of life like ghosts,
Then they just fade off in early winter snow.
Buried between the buildings with shining tags
Like setting sun gleaming to get darken at end;
At last fading into nothingness with bright spring.
New leaves hiding the unmarked graves, making them invisible.
Shadow of memories blossoming yet remains forgotten.
Moving like phantom between the walls.
A phantom well known and well lived yet never be seen.
People move in and out of life like ghosts
Drifting away in autumn with footsteps walking away,
Rushing towards the invisible fire lengthening the shadows.
Like birds returning at evening, flying early with all hopes.
Leaving behind trail of feathers, scattered everywhere,
Sun singeing them brutally into cinders, to be carried by tired butterflies.
People move in and out of life like ghosts
Leaving a wisp of lily in the seething summer air.
Tantalized for more but yielding for none yet vaporizing with each breath,
Craving for never ending corporeal appetite.
Ghosts they are neither man nor woman,
Beating heart which recognize neither brute nor human.

at least you're hot in your indiscretions
        your hands glued to my cheek bones
          and my mouth met yours i--
                                                loved
                                             the
                                                way
                                             your
                                        hair smelled
                      
i hope i am not too hot
                      to scare you away
and i'm feeling like scalding water vaporizing
        should i gather around your feet and kiss your toes?

Around a fire laughing like wolves
Nostalgia ran, the wind was cold
Eyes from a shaved head, her shoulders
Glowing in the firelight like a limelight night

Skies of the ocean run around beach-tree eyes
Put your arms on mine, laugh with me
Gaze into your blue eyes and ask why?
Why is your mouth so dry?

Let's go out and get some fresh air!
What's on your mind now?
I bury myself in your red hair
Vaporizing all the clouds

In a cocoon of your pale arms
Like the womb and its charms
You feel wet and red like a lamb
We all wept and fled for the sound.

Lies of the motions around peach-tree thighs
Put your arms on mine, laugh with me
We gaze into our own eyes and ask why?
Why can't I lay with you tonight?

Let's go out and get some fresh air!
What are you thinking about?
Bury myself in your red hair
And forget the shroud

It's all right now. Come close to me.
Let me hold you. Let us sleep.
It's cold right now. Come close to me.
I will warm you. Let us be.

without a word
we told each other:
"let's not explain anything
and stop the rainbow from vaporizing"
the moment stood still,
like a big red blimp
hovering above
                        overlooking
the breath taking vista of hills
                          where the dawn
displayed its magic, yet again
but in front of our eyes, like never before,
the moment suspended motion,
for a long long while,
till we lost all sense of time;
wasn't it heaven brought down for us?
will it happen again, our hearts beating in unison,
repeatedly was asking.

Breathe in the trail of love
Ice river vaporizing the pain
of old heartaches
the light-years afar meltdowns
I feared to taste what love had
to give to me
I breathe inside my soul
the sweetness of true love  
the sweet abundance of stars
instilling dark
I look to see if I could find
your name in the heavens
where the moon sings out to the
millions of stars dancing around
That gives out pleasure in the
flowers and the beautiful sea
I feel you, my love, watching over me
where love is found springing of the year
I hold you near
with love in the air
The beating of two hearts becoming one
It's love that keeps us holding on
Breathe in the trail of love
Ice river vaporizing the pain
of old heartaches
The light-years afar a meltdowns
I feared to taste what love had been about
Love can be very sweet
when the golden sun is sinking
my heart form carefree
when thousands of stars blinking
I must think
did you ever think about me?

Poetic Judy Emery © 1986
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery

And I gave my First Snowglobe to them.
…And When I had given that to them, I had told him to give me a gift in return that may have more to itself than just simple life.  

“Inahah oona sept amni kquestal”.

Yet I had no other thing to give, this broken soul, beyond more than just flesh, I was naught. And so she had nothing more to me than that of the great overtone, the great silence of the earth, of space, her arms stretching invisible to hold our gaze to her innumerable foreign light show and state--

Perhaps there is another lover of soul somewhere within?

And he said simply to me, that there is someplace for me to be, someone for me to see-- that there was innumerable and inexplicable, incalculable and incomprehensible, powerful and overwhelming deterministic fate that guides my eyes, lets me chose without choosing, think without thinking, know without knowing.

And he knew—and she knew—and they knew with a knowing that I can never know; true and whole and unspoken, I can only dream to describe.

"We made the world for us, for you."

And I felt their love radiate that ferrous heart, steeled with centuries of pain and removal, heated by the ***** of her truth and guided by the loving, tender hand of his true brilliance that blinded and pleasured my aching eyes.

The entire web of the cosmos, in my eyes, dreaming and thinking that maybe I’d be back there one day, whole, float-- bool and cruelty of world inconsequential within the vast expanse of everything—

A powerful, emanative, restorative code of the universe that held itself no information but all, no hate but the misidentified ache of longing love, differed from the soul of the grinding earth—so far away from god through sickly skin and broken bone that without expanding into time and vaporizing into pure light, these feelings which we can never know.

I am spreading myself out across the splintering voids of the crackling civilization
One borrowed hair tie,
T shirt
Bobby pin
At a time.
I am the little presents and treasures
You keep for no reason
And you are my mix CDs.
You are the summer when i
Was most like the trees- swaying and bending in the vaporizing heat
Of an august afternoon.
I am ashes scattered to the wind
Begging to begin again
With an old friend.

Cem 427a 11015

Ah my dark lover
buried in the shadows of my mind
yet always in sight
creeping on my blood vines
through jungles only I should know
it is there you flow
to torment me, love me
to my confession
entering into my heart source
permeating its every beat
with your eternal heat
your cloud vaporizing into my soul
meling all essence together
you have been there forever
tormenting me, loving me
to my confession
you my devil, my angel,
my everything
will now hear finallly
that which you longed for...
I am yours forevermore

A Sequence of Poems for Holy Week

(Some of these were submitted in past years)

Holy Thursday 2017

On this Maundatum Thursday falls a bomb
From the belly of a beast, falling, falling
From the Empyrean and through the blue
Past mountaintops and misted valleys deep

And then into the planet’s earthen flanks
Its pulses to repudiate Creation
In vaporizing the structures of life
Into primeval molecules of dust

Because some bad men might be lurking there
On this Maundatum Thursday falls a bomb



Maundy Thursday – Mass of the Last Supper

“Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang”

-Shakespeare

The air is thurified – the incense given
Our Lord upon His birth is fumed at last;
The censer’s chains, clanking like manacles
Offend against the silence at the end of Mass

Supper is concluded; the servants strip
The Table bare of all the Seder service:
Cups, linens, and dishes, leaving in the dark
An Altar bare, prepared for sacrifice

In Gethsemane the flowered air is sweet
But iron-heeled caligae offend the night



6 April 2012, Good Friday

A Night of Fallen Nothingness

The Altar stripped, the candles dark, the Cross
Concealed behind a purple shroud, the sun
Mere slantings through an afternoon of grief
While all the world is emptied of all hope.
The dead remain, the failing light withdraws
As do the broken faithful, silently,
Into a night of fallen nothingness.



7 April 2012, Holy Saturday

Easter Vigil, Sort Of

A vigil, no, simply quiet reflection
Minutes before midnight, with all asleep
Little Liesl-Dog perhaps dreams of squirrels,
For she has chased and barked them all the day;
The kittens are disposed with their mother
After an hour of kitty-baby-talk,
Adored by all, except by Calvin-Cat,
That venerable, cranky old orange hair-ball,
Who resents youthful intrusion upon
His proper role as object of worship.
All the house settles in for the spring night,
Anticipating Easter, early Mass,
And then the appropriately pagan
Merriments of chocolates and colored eggs
And children with baskets squealing for more
As children should, in the springtime of life.



Easter, 2014

Christos Voskrese!

For William Tod Mixson

The world is unusually quiet this dawn
With fading stars withdrawing in good grace
And drowsy, dreaming sunflowers, dewy-drooped,
Their golden crowns all motionless and still,
Stand patiently in their ordered garden rows,
Almost as if they wait for lazy bees
To wake and work, and so begin the day.
A solitary swallow sweeps the sky;
An early finch proclaims his leafy seat
While Old Kashtanka limps around the yard
Snuffling the boundaries on her morning patrol.

Then wide-yawning Mikhail, happily barefoot,
A lump of bread for nibbling in one hand,
A birch switch swishing menace in the other
Appears, and whistles up his father’s cows:
“Hey!  Alina, and Antonina! Up!
Up, up, Diana and Dominika!
You, too, Varvara and Valentina!
Pashka is here, and dawn, and spring, and life!”
And they are not reluctant then to rise
From sweet and grassy beds, with udders full,
Cow-gossip-lowing to the dairy barn.

Anastasia lights the ikon lamp
And crosses herself as her mother taught.
She’ll brew the tea, the strong black wake-up tea,
And think about that naughty, handsome Yuri
Who winked at her during the Liturgy
On the holiest midnight of the year.
O pray that watchful Father did not see!
Breakfast will be merry, an echo-feast
Of last night’s eggs, pysanky, sausage, kulich.
And Mother will pack Babushka’s basket,
Because only a mother can do that right

When Father Vasily arrived last night
In a limping Lada haloed in smoke,
The men put out their cigarettes and helped
With every precious vestment, cope, and chain,
For old Saint Basil’s has not its own priest,
Not since the Czar, and Seraphim-Diveyevo
From time to time, for weddings, holy days,
Funerals, supplies the needs of the parish,
Often with Father Vasily (whose mother
Begins most conversations with “My son,
The priest.…”), much to the amusement of all.

Voices fell, temperatures fell, darkness fell
And stars hovered low over the silent fields,
Dark larches, parking lots, and tractor sheds.
Inside the lightless church the priest began
The ancient prayers of desolate emptiness
To which the faithful whispered in reply,
Unworthy mourners at the Garden tomb,
Spiraling deeper and deeper in grief
Until that Word, by Saint Mary Magdalene
Revealed, with candles, hymns, and midnight bells
Spoke light and life to poor but hopeful souls.

The world is unusually quiet this dawn;
The sun is new-lamb warm upon creation,      
For Pascha gently rests upon the earth,
This holy Russia, whose martyrs and saints
Enlighten the nations through their witness of faith,
Mercy, blessings, penance, and prayer eternal
Now rising with a resurrection hymn,
And even needful chores are liturgies:
“Christos Voskrese  – Christ is risen indeed!”
And Old Kashtanka limps around the yard
Snuffling the boundaries on her morning patrol.

Living in the city
It's difficult to tell
A plane from a star
 
You look up
At a twinkling
And it moves
 
In another place
There is a dark
So dark you cannot
 
See your feet on the
The path you have to
Feel your way
 
To a mountain top
Where high above
Beyond a panoramic sea
 
The stars roll out
From horizon's glow
Until they seem to stand
 
Above your head
In depths so deep
They merge as clouds
 
Their twinkle blurred
A cosmic steam of stars
Vaporizing into light

i

I speak my mind in rhyme;

Disintegrating evil on obsidian wings
hell bent Raven no longer sings...

Vaporizing hate, sin and greed
Devil's invasion fills our need...


ii

Raven responds in prose;


I am but a messenger, deliverer of terror, a dismal speck in a sea

of wrong doers. you all have created me with your deeds of

hatred. I am but an innocent bird that was born to sing of

love, freedom and hope.

I was chosen by evil itself, and now you destroy me with

your words, your interaction of good.



iii

I speak my mind in rhyme a second time;


You shall return back to the dust which you came

spreading your words of dread in the Devils name

you'll no longer bask in Satan's game...



iiii

Ravens last prose before his demise;


One day you'll see, it's not me, you're all doomed

I simply deliver what is asked of me. a hired hand if you will.

a deal made long ago with the shadows. the lurking darkness

for which i was drawn. in hindsight i shall never of landed in

the hand of evil, but.....

it's only a little bit like a toothache when your
eyes well over in that muted, melancholy way.

i had so sorely forgotten this place
the anxiety, fresh like a cresting wave
that languid boil in my throat
the therapist tells me that I have to take deep breaths and
hold myself where it burns, tenderly
but i always end up choking myself.

limp attempts to strangle the fervent clamor
my brain revolves a harrowing dialogue,
masquerading as novel thoughts

this afternoon i stood, back to the sweat-slicked masses
my own mess of rank and fear dripping from brow to navel
tears vaporizing mid-air before they could season the eggs

and i realized in the most painful way
that the pallid, grease-burned hands stroking my neck
in some strange semblance of comfort
might as well be his,



they should have cremated him.
i ache to hold reverence on the same ground in which he rots.



you were humming between my legs while i twitched and gasped and then i burst into tears. wracking sobs, really, the kind that make my chest hitch and your mouth kept hitting my ***** bone while i shook, orgasming and crying.

i want to say a lot of things about the why, how and of course and to be honest with you and i think

but my lips are too swollen with his death. his bloated corpse is hiding in my throat, slicing up my insides, and i'm so ******* allergic, can't you see in the ways my hands flail and my eyes bulge?

all the lengths of my skin are boiling,
your validation a soothing salve
for a moment, before dissipating in my wretched heat

can't you see that this all fell into place decades ago? from the very first time you had somewhere better to be, someone else who needed your time and space, i was already burning.
so small and slight, trembling just a little bit.

it was you you YOU

all of you, now dead and rotting or just as good as




i refuse to join you.

The whizzing work on wondrous display
Buzzing and flashing throughout the day
A shocking harmony with dire attention
In tribute to word or sad photo mention
Bring upon us the fizzling sharp memory
Three years ago august scratched in emery
Shuttled by in a long dazing shot of light
Longing to see what is no longer in sight
Instead a meandering, grazing installment
Mocking this week's newest involvement
From highest perch, a moralizing parlance
No question or thought to odd circumstance
Just spill the word behind digitizing partition
And don't go on with even another mention
Here is what's today, vaporizing tomorrow
Another page atop the pile of deluded sorrow

I think i should apply for a mental health alleviation position
Because I've been making sure these people don't severely hurt themselves or commit suicide
I'm here to help you and i want absolutely nothing in return
It's one of the gifts God gave me
To make people feel better
And to be their vase to store all their tears
Here is to all the years
Of healing and wellness
That i'm bestowing upon them
Because it's an acting role where i'm not acting
I mean it
I love vaporizing the pain
It makes my mind less scorned from my own predicaments

On top of the world he may be,
but satisfied not is he,
destined to move on,
search for faraway lands,
so nothing can sate his thirst,
a reprise for his never-ending curse,
to reap the grains and store them in a hearse,
a silo of his own desire,
an infinite craving for surplus,
roaming the cosmos alongside us,
destruction and mischief does he cast,
for planets and creatures in his path,
he seems them as trash,
disintegrates them into gas,
returns his victims to an elemental state,
and when it comes to time - he is never late,
for time follows him on his journey,
while he runs errands planting seeds,
serving up clean slates and vaporizing galaxies,
he is never hungry; for he has no needs,
he'll give you no mercy if you're on your knees,
there will be now warning before you're deceased,
so learn to face death with ease,
to walk through his doorway carried on a breeze,
and then thank him for his deeds,
for without him there would be no life,
no rabbits, no horses, no people, no bees,
the differences would be easy to see,
for we would have no life to lead,
no legs to move and no air to breathe,
no songs from the birds or the sway of the trees,
so let's take time to appreciate that which we cannot see,
the beauty in your eyes,
every pair of lovely eyes,
and every Buddha in disguise,
the visions we see in the sky,
when we witness someone cry,
watching your loved ones dies,
sharing with a special someone, a cherry pie,
having trust without any lies,
eating some deliciously hot french fries,
a tender caress of a warm thigh,
the world we experience through our mind's eye,
taking of a bite of juicy apple before it dries,
and seeing the sunrise,
are some of the reasons,
for a better world,
we shall strive.

Bro Merc,

Hey man...you alright?....ain't nobody heard hide or hair from you for weeks....I checked all over the universe and the two dimensions next door then I picked em all up and checked under each of their floors...

I'm starting to worry Merc.....give some proof of life...I talked to all your muses and hundreds of thousands of wives...the last one to see you said you was at the park shooting hoops with Herc on the Fourth of July  

I was joking about vaporizing you if you were hitting Venus behind my back....she does it with all my dogs...oops I mean gods....man you know I'd cut you some slack. And you know that I love talking me some good smack.

So like I said drop a line, FaceTime, come on back; your character was never in question and much less under attack.

And I'll still throw in the Pope's 10 youngest daughters so you can hem them in up your shack.

Your bro,

ANu

I stand out here alone in the night,

The sky is almost bright,

Birds tweeting, dogs barking in the distance, leaves dancing in the wind,

And Im smoking a cigarette, that is becoming shorter and shorter.

In front of me, is an old house,

And in that house is a flashy room in which a TV’s playing,

While everyone is long asleep, there is only me and the person in that room awake,

There is a strange  connection between us two now and he will never know.

Suddenly the dogs stopped barking, birds kept on tweeting, the room kept on flashing,

Smoke is rising to the almost bright night sky,

Vaporizing in the dancing leaves,

I’m waiting for something.

Sensing the inevitable loneliness around me in the deep night,

I thank for the moment of silence to heal my spirit from the wounds of yesterday,

The cigarette  is dying,
And so am I.

I want to wake tomorrow
Really wake
As a different person
More creative
More loving
More vibrant through all
My feeling
A rocketing, plummeting, vaporizing
Expanse of thought that I take
To be, me

I.
Oh tears, make kaleidoscopes in your eyes and reflect back mine as well;
Till we awake in an unspoken praise of dimes and pennies alike forever.


II.
See, your wings are broken alike and feel my infinite breaths resting on them;
I will slither along your broken arm and be your one and only satellite.


III.
Hear, the crackling of my bones building up the refuge where I need to relax;
Makes me lose my self control and take my prints on the pages of the books.


IV.
Taste the pain in my tongue, feel the warmth give out everything to the stars;
Take the dart I have and pierce it up like a brooch up on my manly suit.


V.
Run, run through the vines and woods with you hair dangling it’s true;
Without bowing down to me even an inch close till you were with me.


VI.
Feel the cotton made out of tiger skin and making rashes on my forehead;
It’s so soft, still turning up my nails into a sharpened blade of truth.


VII.
Come, come closer to my heart and feel every breath from an inch of your skin;
Vaporizing the webs sprinkled all around like we are a prey in a trap.


VIII.
Here comes, the snuffing of our souls and curtains set everywhere like goals;
It’s a never ending metaphor for ours to give to everyone.


IX.
And now, our eyes are blinded by the arrogance we walked upon;
Still standing up even in our mortal expiry just like the rotten apples we passed down on our feet.