Love Heirs

Source: 20th C Fox

Words slipped, carelessly leafing in the wind,
Falling hard, grazing a hand and a knee skinned,
It was a midday, midyear type of feeling,
Sweet air that is unromantically appealing,

Sipping bitter cider, musty airs losing speed,
Seeing through lashes, many words to read,
Sweaty palms soiling pages and marking progresses,
Breezes fluttering hearts, just as they flutter dresses,

The sun creeps through rafters, dust dancing ballet,
Much is felt, but words leave little to say,
Escape into metaphor and slip into allegory,
Not so much a retreat but a decisive foray,

Long sighs accompany afternoon highs,
Rich eyes crumple souls to their demise,
Adolescent dreams sour and dissolve,
Somewhere worms were involved,

Flesh and flowers, sourced from the same soils,
Genetically intwined, entwines and coils,
Piercing the decaying atmosphere, 
Sharp and cold, a pointed spear,

A deep voice clears the air, 
Like a long-forgotten ode or prayer,
Peacefulness fills the soul–
‘For whom the bell tolls.’

Opulence clinks the ice drowning in gin,
Reminding the youth of what had been,
Stretching arms like history’s twin,
Posterity watching, a scurrilous grin. 

Oh, what sweet sorrow
from past loves we borrow.
Two young hearts defy their genesis,
For a long-lasting, far-reaching kiss.

Fear; A Love Story

Source: Tumblr

Our feet moved slowly through the centre of the road,
Our eyes stared star-ward, we watched as they glowed,
The moon hung, suspended in our deepest belief,
As the signs of autumn wore away with the last falling leaf,

Darkness engendered the fear that tugged us to stop and glance.
Wondering, if, in the face of danger, we stood a fair chance,
Apart, but together, our minds crawled doggedly on,
Inwardly guessing how long those stars actually shone,

A stalemate of stillness awaits the mallet to sound,
Withal, reticence persisted as, in silence, we drowned,
Onwards and inwards we search for nourishment, 
Sought after dreams of smiles and encouragement,

I cite history as the source of my displeasure,
Awaiting the sign, which, of course, is your leisure,
Recall, that time flees the scene of the crime, 
Just as the poet chimes perfectly posed rhymes,

Intellectualize and sexualize the words on the page,
More often than not, this is our calamitous plague,
Equilibrium vets the provocateur and jets the esoteric, 
Monotonous ages of desire, thus, eclipsed by a titillating philosophic,

The brightest body we see is a reflecting body, mostly cast in shadow,
Reminding us of fairy stories told oft once, long, long ago,
Truth is obscure, abstracted, and loftily denied,
Morals are clear and craftily contrived.

Once upon a time, they reached their happily ever after,
The crowd cheered, resonating their lust to the rafters,
Fairy stories make-believe the love we wish to be,
For, only young artists sing songs of such courage and bravery.

Scenes laid before the humble philosopher-queen,
The jouissance of questioning what it is to have been,
To be, to we, we are, I am–the syntax, the grammar, the allegory,
Couplet and Capulet, troubled and toiled, tell this duel-householder story,

The visions collapse as sisters disperse to quaff coveted goblets of brine,
Whilst, above, the suspended apparition of the sandman shines,
Reminded of the laboured movements that idle our hearts,
Wondering, still, if it is us, who Eros eternally thwarts,

The noise in the shadows leaps forth from our throats,
Equal in horror to no other sound this author had wrote,
Fretted in terror by things of the hoary night,
Reminded, in banality, that this fear, I did write.

From the Earth to Kiss Our Skin

Hear it read << here >> 

 

Cold air combs my hair; it turns my nose to ice,
I remember those days, filled with the warmth of vice,
There was hardly sunshine, but there was wind,
Energy that flows from the earth to kiss our skin,

The bricks crumble as they hold up our lives,
Like bees selling honey to mortgage their hives,
Glass lets us cut into the lives of those we ignore,
Instead of seeking entry through their front door,

Dishes pile as we breathe and conspire,
Entwined in our bed; this lust is dire,
Our minds drift to forests, where fairies dwell,
Green covers all life, animating this sweet dell,

Walking upon moss that sponges and frays,
Sipping the sweet smell of wild floral bouquets,
Stopping to drink the water that drips and drops,
Hushing as we see the lone bunny hip and hop,

Hand in hand, we are borne into movement,
Solace warms our soul in this anagogic ascent,
We rise above the earth’s vibrating energies,
Forward and returned like the tides of the bluest seas,

We make our own warmth as we urge, together, on,
Awaiting the sweet, milky skies that precede dawn,
If our hands are cold, our spirits are tenderly anchored,
Swimming for an eternity, finally reaching the shore,

Rising and falling, desire dances upon your lips,
My spirit escapes me—-

—-spiritless, in a moment, eclipsed,

Life grows in the moss, as love flows from the sky,
Silence falls as mother earth hums a last, sweet sigh.

 

-fin

Growing Pains.

He said: “It will rain.”
She said: “I know.”
He said: “I won’t cause you pain.”
She said: “Yes, you will.”

He said: “Let’s walk hand in hand.”
She said: “My hands are full.”
He said: “Let’s go to a far away land.”
She said: “I have spaces here.”

He said: “The sky is blue.”
She said: “It’s lovely.”
He said: “Let me help you.”
She said: “I’ve done it thus far.”

He said: “Oh, okay.”
She said: “Let’s day-dream.”
He said: “The sky is blue.”
She said: “It’s not what it seems.”

He said: “What is it then.”
She said: “Love, I think.”
He asked: “What’s that?”
She said: “It’s like being thirsty, and having a drink.”

He asked: “Like the desert?”
She said: “It’s like feeling home, when you’re away.”
He asked: “So, going home?”
She said: “It’s like sleeping and having good dreams.”

He said: “Let’s dream together.”
She said: “Let’s dream alone.”
He asked: “Why?”
She said: “To share our souls.”

He said: “I like that.”
She said: “I knew you would.”
He said: “I like you.”
She said: “I made your heart grow.”

He asked: “I made yours grow too?”
She said: “Yes, always.”
His eyes said: I love you.
Her heart said: I know.

He said: “It will rain.”
She said: “We have umbrellas.”
He said: “I’ll cause you pain.”
She said: “We will grow more;growing pains.”

He said: “Let’s walk hand in hand.”
She clasped his hand in hers.
He smiled.
She said:”My hands are full.”

fin.

 

nb: Just want to clarify that the genders used are meant to implicate power dynamics as well as character differentiation.  #inclusiveLove

Tessellated words; Mosaic thoughts.

I am afraid of not being heard.
Not because I am not speaking,
but because no one will listen.

You have so much courage,
To talk, to express love and emotion,
Even if there is no one else around.

You show what you feel.
You breathe new life into the world.
No one has to hear—you just feel.

Not only do you feel, you share.
How do you do that?
How do you not feel the world compress
your soul, your voice, your heart.

Do you feel it?
Do you just keep breathing?
Where do you draw your strength?

I’ve tried stick figures,
You know? —to stick it to it,
But I just got stuck.

I am going to keep trying.
Trying to sing to the birds,
Hum with my soul,
Dream with love as my guide.

It is so hard;
But laughing is so joyous,
Laughing from your toes
Snorting through your nose.

I might stumble along the way,
But, from time to time,
Sing with me,
Try with me.

But most of all… dance with me.
Show me how you love
That the sky is blue,
That it rains and it pours,
That the sun kisses just as it runs away,
Show me how you love the possible

Show me how you love
the impossible.

I’ll stop being scared.
I’ll try and stop being afraid of
not being…
not being…..
It’s too hard.

I’m clawing against my own mind,
I’m retching out the emotions that make me up,
I’m reorganizing, re-categorizing, redrawing.

Not withdrawing.

I’ll try and love,
I’ll love.
I’ll not offer the world fear
or contempt, or jealously, or hate.
I’ll love.

If you catch me as I am laughing or
being too loud
Please laugh with me.
Let’s just be ecstatic to be.

 

Spiritual Debut of the Murmuring Heart

Pressing thoughts deliberate their untoward will,
Crashing relentlessly from wall to windowsill,
Rays restrained from filling dark fissures of thought,
Expanses of desert drinking up all I have got.

Level the field that engulfs the sea of squandered souls!
‘Don’t do that!’ they brazenly chide and they scold,
Leaving the empty unconnected—like stars with no signs,
Expecting us to forget the agéd power of the divine.

Warmth is a feeling often served to the bitterly numbed,
As our limbs pine and our dreams needle to overcome,
My fearless hero! Brave the storm of abject ignominy,
Mending the broken walls of shame by nurturing dignity.

Remember dear heart….

Love is a phantasm that swims into the depths of the bay,
Just as it soars infinitely, farther, up, and away,
It refuses to be held in the palm of one single hand,
For there it has little room to stretch, grow, and expand.

Like the pressing forces that mark the point of no return,
Hand in hand, the meaning of love is less easy to discern,
Fingers interlaced, woven together so they may never fray,
Palms pressing into one another, as fruitful souls sing and sway.

Cherish the crosses and noughts that expose your fears,
For it’s easier to live a life without love that’s austere,
Miserly counting the affectionate dissonances,
Instead of writing one of the world’s great romances,

Whisper your secrets from the depths of your murmuring heart,
Erratic, muted tones that, together, morph like abstracted art,
Let it be seen by someone, without further ado,
All you can do, angel-mine, is bring love to your spiritual debut.

 

-fin

edit:
To hear it read… click ME

Piano Man

spoken with accompanying music (prelude in e minor) here

The pulsating air could not disguise how the mallet fell,
Resonating notes written in an enchanted, magic spell,
Bewitched by euphonic mysteries that herald love’s promise,
Symphonic paradise that revealed lovers suspended in bliss,

An abeyance of laws and physical worldly realities,
Ethereal movements colliding in fragmented unease,
Touching and caressing, softly or roughly with pain,
Hallowed be thy name; crossed thresholds and profaned,

Like a petal about to fall from security’s hold,
I await the fall from grace into that which is soil’d,
Respite and reanimation is granted during the fleeting interlude,
Incarnate absolution from the transgression to which I allude,

Notes sung on high offer a thunderous conclusion,
Seemingly at an end–

a shocking illusion,

Persisting and prolonging the moment we ache,
For that is the inglorious instant we break.

Awaiting your mouth to wrap around mine,
Anticipating sustained moments of the divine,
Bacchus draining his decanter in a dubious crescendo,
Recognizing the delusion, but loving you even so,

Passing into oblivion as the days come to an end,
Like a river whose path meanders and wends,
Moving in motion with memory’s laps,
Always disappearing, but in form, I am trapped.

~ fin

Antidotal Anecdotal; Medicinal Maternal

When I need it most, the words escape tangentially,
Sanguineous emotion yearning to surge expressively,
Trapped in eternal damnations, buckling under shame,
Ravenous lamb astounding the lion you’ve tamed.

Excreting words without meaning, and meaning without purpose,
Trembling troves of buzzing elocution secreted by the nervous,
Nightmarish apprehensiveness colludes with the power of fear,
Making it impossible, improbable for my words to hear.

URGH! What message is there hidden by this muting potion,
Rapidity of death as sharks prey upon me in this unending ocean,
Tender organ racing as I am beaten by life’s brutish, bloodthirsty fate,
Deluge of alarm as I succumb to this foreboding sensuous spate.

Riddled with meaningless intent, puzzled by intentioned meaning,
Anxious that the absurdity has taken away life’s silver gleaming,
Up and down; down and up–broken but mended by verse,
Ceaseless, unscrupulous unsleeping are the tell-tales of this curse.

The antidote is the poison by which I am drugged,
Rendering me engorged with polluted yet cleansed blood,
The sweet scented day-dreams are filled with passions aplenty,
But the same mind’s eye desiccates the heart, leaving it empty

[whispered from afar]

Remember, my dear, sweet-tempered child,
All my love and joy is within you and riled,
For when I first looked upon you I was beguiled,
All you ever have ever done, angel, I always smiled,

The skies are but filled with efflorescing long-lost souls,
Awaiting the moment when they’ll become again whole,

Glittering stars that sacrifice existence and give tranquil respite,
As if only for you they dance and twinkle all through the night.

Fluttering worries begone from this sacred ground,
For upon this face a jubilant cherubs’s smile is crowned,
My angel, you are strong and beautiful and powerful yet,
Because of your vivacious vitality, I will always be in your debt,

No, do not think these are just words to fill a page,
Or actors carousing upon an imagined pantomime stage,
My love is a storm that changes the face of this earth,
I’ve felt that since the moment of your birth.

While life feels difficult and so very severe,
I have every faith that your goodness will persevere,
So smile, my sweetest delight,
And show the world your brave might.

~fin

A Hand at Love

And when I kissed your lips gently still,
Tilting my head back, drinking my fill,
Ruffling my hands through your downy hair,
Not breaking for a moment, our deep-passioned stare.

Cold air pressed over our shy skin; chattering bones,
Punctuated moments coloured with sky’s changing tones,
Hand in hand, my fingers still rigidly cold,
Can we stay like this until we’re older than old?

Wretched bodies entwined and entangled sinew by sinew,
Etched outlines of life lines as lady history continues,
To stretch and breathe anew the ache of love’s first kiss,
Halted by fear; curious by design; lastingly engendered bliss.

Warmth that begins from deep down inside; burgeoning with joy,
Reposed but electrified by this creative power that destroys,
Gentle moments that impact a lifetime of meaning,
Taking the air from my soul, you keep me breathing.

Blossoms have yet to be kissed so gently by the morning sun,
Young lovers have not learned to conceal the love they’ve begun,
Drinking in passion’s ambrosia, the sweet nectar of youth’s fires,
Tranquility in stolen moments whilst cupid and venus conspire,

Lovers lost in the deepest maze of tender enrapture,
Safe in the lands of love’s perplexing and phantasmic allure,
Hand in hand, our love makes us courageously bold,
Let’s stay! Stay like this until we’re older than old!

~fin

Storm’d Heat

Scratching the graphite into the page.  Stomping your soul into the earth.  Dreaming your essence unto an universe of an unravelling infinite expansion of a helical dance.  Driving your soul downwards and your essence upwards and outwards.  Feeling energy surging from your fingers and into the day-dreams that soothe your wayward mind.

Lapping oceans clammer to hug the shore, “just one more inch,” she cries as she forcefully reaches to hug the earth she so desperately loves.  Mother Earth crumbles unto the ocean floor circumventing her waves.  Rains fall and mists away from broiled earth.  Falling and rising; cooling and heating.

Purposeful desire aches in his soul as he holds tight to fortune’s cruel wheel, over which he has little control, but he still holds onto it desperately.  Fortune spoke, one, two, three, four, five, six.  Fortune speaks, but her voice is graveled from having, for so long, been engaged to the earth as she rolls onwards:

The body and mind and essence all unravel into different territories.  Connected to the earth as she walks; sway, sway, sway, sway.  His eyes draw her being into his being.  Her love is hidden, far beneath six feet down, but much higher than heaven’s highest mount.  When her heart is stirred, she feels her heart race from all its hidden places, and her head becomes light as euphoria overtakes her.  Still carefully treading the road, wary of fortune’s lines, she closes her eyes as she breathes in hot, wet air.  Her lungs are filled with heavy air, but she is not made bloated by it; instead, her lungs release breath by breath through her nose, ears, mouth, and eyes.  Her lips give long-lasting kisses to dreams as thoughts pass by.  Her eyes gently hug each vision as they hop away like young puppies in a field of daisies.  Her own world is filled with feeling and heat and emotion and dreams, ever surrounding her being, ever clinging to her as burrs bite wild hair.  The world shuts off, but remains.  The world is her.

He cannot see what she sees, for it is the unseen.  He cannot hear what she hears, for it is the unheard.  But he breathes what she breathes as they breathe life into each other.  He feels what she feels as they meet in space and time.

Words into being.  Words blend thoughts and worlds as the graphite nestles into curves and lines of life and death.   the muse breathes.  the muse thinks.  the muse be-mused.  the muse is power.  the muse is statuette.  the muse blinks.

the muse sways as her body sings the melodic delirium she was lauded to whisper once more.

 she is unto a world of her own.  she feels the vibrations of the world below her and the sensation of the heavens and stars above.  she feels the clouds of emotion and wonder and imagination and curiosity.

he knows not what to do.

she knows not of it.

whilst she regards the stars, and her mind amongst the stars; ad infinitum.