My Freedom on Wings

<<Read here>> (click here to hear me read it)

I used to sing out loud, waiting for you to hear, 
I used to write sweet words, to draw you near,
I sang a song that only your soul should have heard,
Even so, I was lost in myself, gravely self-interred.

It took me time to push the daisies from this earthy burrow,
Rising stiffly, just under the surface, from six feet below, 
I stretch and groan, a song to salute the sun and skies,
Slowly opening long-closed and sight-forgotten eyes,

The world is new and full of rich abstract colour, 
Awoken from a deep slumber, where senses were duller,
Apprehension and anxiety that once burbled steadily,
Dissipates as my mind eases to the calm of the slow sea,

Infinity may not be compromised from the mortal abode,
Endlessness consumed as digesting time slowed, 
You delicious curls rivalled the Odysseus’s godlike brow, 
And you snarled and hissed, face resting in scowl,

The tears that flowed from your eyes were laced with hate,
For a many an age, I deluded myself to lust after fate,
When we danced, my hand met your hand, your hand on my waist,
Always expecting, always demanding my smile remained chaste, 

The years past us by, dust settling like snow on those curls,
Tears dropped from my eyes, more precious than pearls,
You pushed me and pulled me, I was a doll on a string, 
But I’ve finally grown them, my freedom on wings,

In, I breathe, Out, I breathe. Snow melts at my pyre, 
Spring suspires life from the putrid, festering mire,
Towards the depths, I feel my body contract and inflate,
This is the choice of a lifetime—a pearl or fiery gate.

I am free now, after all of this time; 
Saddled to lyric and many a rhyme;
I bellow the fires that alight from within,
And cradle the pearls as I begin again. 

Stirred; Not Awakened

To hear me read it; click here -> http://picosong.com/e4sf

Ambulating at a pace to conquer the gazelle,
Running away, ne’er to wait for the bell to knell,
Somnambulating to escape the endless days,
Sun setting on an enrapturing consumptive malaise,

The earth pulses through my body; radiating calm,
Soothing a restless mind like a cooling balm,
Not asleep nor fully awake, I furtively slide away,
Catching one last glimpse of the sun’s falling rays,

Moon, your face holds lines of lust and lines of passion,
But when you frown at the sun your complexion ashens,
The ever rising and falling of your mind’s eye,
Reminds me of the clouds swimming in the sky,

Sunshine kisses a cloud, whose shadow shades the day,
Obscuring my mind, greying the things I want to say,
I used to hide, stepping carefully to avoid sullen decay,
Hastening to keep my meditations hidden in the bay,

My heart was cleaved ad infinitum as I wandered alone,
Darkness encroached as I boarded, paying Charon,
But a syncopated song called to me pulling me free,
Like a small dog tugs and wrenches, stubborn on its lead,

One day the cool air tugged my heart-strings open,
I climbed from the warmth of a musty sleep-filled den,
And I ran as far away as a day seems to a bored afternoon,
My wings grew and I flew, no longer cut no longer hewn,

Towards reds, purples, pinks, and blues all speaking in tongues,
I began to hum; vocalize; manifest; sing that which had sprung,
To wake me from sleepless beauty into a thirsting desire,
Consuming life like a dragon appetizingly slurps on a tall glass of fire.

~fin

Pebbled Dreams

In a tower far away, pebbles accelerate as they burst in short babbles out of the highest window.  Legend affirms they are the earthy-frozen representations of the joyful tears of the maiden who lives amongst the fairies that guard her eternally.  These fairies, who are often confused for snowflakes and icicles, make the tower a spectacle worth watching.  As people watch an icy haze swallow the tallest tower consumptively they fail to observe that the pebbles land in the small well below.  To the captive above it is a wishing-well, to the captivated below she is a goddess who will sweep among the people curing diseases, inspiring virility, commanding purity.  Both parties understand each other in mystical terms that seem fantastically true.  The pebbles still cascade, in a not-so cascading way.  The intimacy of the pebble falling into the water provides reality to the captive’s desires; as the water embraces the stone it immediately consumes it with great hunger simultaneously quenching the pebble’s thirst.

One fairy glistens brightest of all.  Her beauty is said to be a minute reflection of the great beauty held within.  What the many fail to realize is that they understand the beauty within to be the maiden’s beauty-of-out.  This dream is attractive, as is, they affirm, the maiden.  Her form appears to them in sleep; she is intangible.  She whispers and sings to willow trees, who weep to know her.  They bow eternally in reverence to the sunshine she bestows upon them.  She dances upon river-tops, providing zealous and racing life to the waters around, keeping them fresh and voluminous.  They never imagine her to be sad.  That is something they do not recognize in relation to the maiden; for, she provides such joy to her blissful audience that they always smile at her everlasting presence.

As the captive stares out from wide windows that hide all but an outline to the people, she reaches out desirously towards the trees.  She sees one pair upon a lazy hill, where lovers meet, entangled from their roots into delicious knots.  Bees harmoniously buzz providing a gentle nestling ground for lovers to feast in one another’s presence.  The captivated watch deliriously as she blesses lovers and brings them heavenliness lifelong.  But darkness.  She has closed her eyes.  Arm stretched forth.  Dreaming.  Never saddened, no.  The crisp air that reaches her opens her lungs as she deeply consumes its freshness.  The beauty she see below always makes her smile with joy.  Perhaps, her role is necessary, she ponders as she eats iced, mallowed-honeyed-dew.  Numa prescribed her role many suns ago; the moon has remained infinitely.  Alone, yet united in a mirrored prescription that, in its nature, provides a substantial and satiating description of hope realized and desire imbibed.

~fin