requiem

The hunger spills across your shoreline, reaching inland, wave after wave relentlessly seeking your center

The longing branches skyward, heart first, head lost, arms open, waiting to be received

The distance and the silence and the wonder all conspire to hide me from the truth

The clawing at my chest, the ache seeping from my pores, every cell weeping

I am altered...

collapse

I have taken great care to organize and categorize to box it up and store it on a shelf but there were problems with the shelf it wasn’t quite strong enough there were too many boxes and everything has come crashing down landing square on my cluttered little head and the mess lies in crumpled mountains about my feet avalanches of antiquity tumbling past my ears into chaotic piles of destruction soon the broken cages will bury me becoming a new cage of broken parts and past failings to restrain me I need to retrain me I have forgotten so many things the remembering is all consuming a full time job for the unemployed adventurist how can I get to the apex reach the summit summon my demons for the purge how can I dive face first into tomorrow break open the doorway to beyondness to beyond this moment this moment of catastrophic proportions of atomic level abortions I can no longer see I am blinded by my self imposed limitations by low level imitations that speak the language of the common begging me to join throw my hands up throw my arms down give myself over to the lesser but I cannot I cannot I must wake from the nightmare shake off the despair drag one dead leg in front of the other and move forward always move forward

I belong

I belong to the ages of wisdom. I am a servant of the words. I belong to the night and the moon and the stars. I belong to the earth, the rich soil filling my lungs. I am taking root, watch me grow. I belong to the fragrant dance of the bloom unfolding in the afternoon sun. I belong to the sun, screaming through the trees. I belong to the trees, each single leaf in the moment just before it falls to its death on the grass below. I belong to the grass below, soft and damp underfoot. I belong to the damp darkness taking over my senses obliterating all light, wrapping me in this blanket of strange comfort. I belong to the strange, the forgotten, the lost and the lonely. I belong to my demons and their tricks. I belong to my own tricks. I belong to the circus, an animal performer slamming my face up against the cage. I belong to the spaces between the bars, the wide open spaces of breath and sighs and lovers. I belong to the lovers and their sweat, their sweet smelling sex dripping from my mouth. I belong to your mouth, your beautiful mouth, panting red cavern of desire. I belong to desire, to the burn. I belong to the raging fire of hearts beating wild, unrestrained. I belong to the wild, the weak and the wounded. I belong to the wound and the beauty leaking from it. I belong to the beautiful and the broken, bones and dreams. I belong to the dreams of the stargazers in a galaxy beyond. I belong to the galaxy, to the far reaches of alien fingers tickling the psyche of true thought thinkers. I belong to the collective, to the farm of ants smashed under a careless footstep. I belong to the footstep, the furious gate of frightened feet tearing through the under growth, chest heaving, gasping, grasping for a beacon of light to guide the way home. I belong to the monster chasing me. I belong to the monster chasing you. I belong to you.

the night

liquid black night touched by glittering eyes of angels from a million miles away

oh so enchanting this night
as though a shroud in which I wrap myself
a robe of twinkling velvet
draped across my shoulders
cascading down my back
adrift on the bouyant perfection of space

I feel this night watching me
as I am watching
studying each other's glory like lovers that
know no other face that
know no other touch

this night is mine
this night is mine
this night is mine
and I knew it would be
a vision brought to me
of still passion
and silent fire

I wait
and I wait
and I wait
for the stars to fall
from the sky
for the stars to fall
to the earth
and brush across my cheek
and dance through my hair
and gather at my feet
in a pool
of electric love
for me
for you
forever



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ornament

A horrible day it is indeed

When with mine eyes I clearly see

That which I proclaim not to be

Is exactly the epitome of me

purging ~ 2.16.10

This is an exploration an excavation if you will an unearthing of the useless an unloading of the dead weight keeping the secrets locked in the dark gives power away the light is restorative or at least that's what I've heard from the scholars that speak to me in my dreams who knows they might be lies manufactured to secure my fate as a pawn in the game of sheep herding doing the dirty work for the puppet masters or maybe it is the truth wouldn't that be delightful if the truth resided in my dreams but where would you go for answers

the big bang

Entering the frame of quantum mind, letting it all exist side by side, swirling about inside the brain and out. Each twinkling a birth of sorts, spark alive, snuffed to death and so on and so on, no end, no begin just a circle spattering of galaxy existing all at once and not at all. I understand it, the constant motion of thought, the fingers shooting off in a thousand different directions, starbursts of grandiosity. So many roads to travel, so many possibilities to explore, so where do I go? How do I map this? How do I turn the map sideways, set it on the floor, walk around it and view it from the other side? I see it, the dark matter splattered across the blinding white screen, the next dimension unraveling, weaving a new tale, an epic saga playing out on the inside of my eyelids. I SEE IT. I can’t help that it blinds you. I can’t say that I’m sorry that it does either. I rather enjoy being one of the few gifted with sight. It’s not nice to say but it’s true and truth matters more now. I spent a long time struggling with this gift of sight and the aloneness that accompanies it. I still struggle at times although it is less frequent since I corrected the path. I now have an unobstructed view that comforts me and the view is that of possibility, the truth, the rightness of direction. I will eventually walk out of your view, out of your conceptual grasp. You can only still see me because I currently exist in both of our worlds. I will leave yours, I promise. And the moment I step off, it will drop from orbit tumbling into oblivion like a crumpled piece of paper tossed away in a motion of letting go, a moment of giving up. My mind is on fire at the thought. To see only dust in my wake excites me from the underside and there is fire there too. Passion burns in me, turns me inside out and back again. It abuses me, takes liberties weaker women couldn’t entertain but I am not weak I only appear that way to the small of mind. My perceived weaknesses are my power. I can break open again and again and again and rebuild from the tiniest remnants. I only need one cell to rise from the ash. So go ahead and swing your hammers and bats, strip the flesh from my useless bones. Claw out my eyes if you wish, I cannot be blinded because I SEE. But the bigger truth is I am beyond your grasp.
I AM BEYOND

*disclaimer ~ In order to ease the discomfort my truth seems to inspire in those that populate my daily grind I offer a more palatable yet distinctly small version of myself. Inevitably this small pressurized incarnation occasionally pushes back.

??? ~ 3.6.07

Have you ever made a huge decision by taking your time and being real thorough? Like making a pros and cons list and you weigh everything all scientific like and the equation adds up to yes for the one thing and no for the other thing and you go with the yes thing like your scientificness has dictated? Then later when that yes thing stops being a yes thing and starts being a what-the-fuck-did-I-do thing and you start freaking out 'cause you did all the listing and the adding and the sciencing and you went with the right answer thing so why is it now the wrong answer thing and what was originially the no thing is all golden-hued and perfect-memoried in your dreams and when you wake you can't really determine if you've asked if you could go back to the no thing like you dreamt or not? And you start dragging through your day looking for another thing to weigh against the used-to-be-yes thing that has become the no thing so you can start all over again 'cause there's just no way you can back to the original no thing because even though the used-to-be-yes thing is now a no thing the original no thing really is still a no thing which is what got you here in the first damn place? No? Me neither.

the pursuit of crappiness ~ 3.31.07

I wait for the lights to come on as I've lost the ability to flip the switch. It seems I've walked the street for days looking for the hand that controls the light only to find continued darkness. Unfortunately daylight only burns the truth out of me. I crave artificial light, the spastic, irregular glow of the television bouncing off of the walls assaults me with friendly fire trapping me in a world of designer straight jackets minus the benzodiazepine. In the darkness I am safe.
I am a coward.

disjointed ~ 7.22.08

I move slowly wrapped in darkness. What appears to be empty and unending is filled with fleeting moments of clarity. Careful not to move too quickly I avoid all surprises. A slow drawn out pace serves to calm the neurosis of an undrugged mind. I wish upon stars and lesser knowns for directions I know I will not follow. If only there were light in this corner of my mind instead of shadows maybe some things would stop happening.

one world to the left ~ 3.25.09

A new blood pulses through my veins to the off time beat of syncopated disbelief. I am trying to establish a rhythm, a rule but it eludes me just now. There is an incorrigible effervescence just below the skin on my cheeks. I am changing, melting, melding into something unrecognizably grand. I won't be long, I'm just around the corner, one world to the left.

burdens & blessings

The advantage is that there is purity in pain and a profound beauty in sadness that you simply can’t reach if you don’t just sit right down and wallow in it, linger in the stench of it, suffer it, every bit of it to truly understand how blessed you are. The disadvantage is you can’t escape it, you belong to it this thing, this ache or rather I belong to the ache, I can’t escape it.

wounds

The air gets trapped in a small pocket under my left breast, the harder I fight the more it constricts. The pain is a welcome reminder of my existence it is my burden, my gift, my grace. And I will always fight, forcing the blood from my soul as a sacrifice on the altar of breath itself. What is it to live without pain? I’m not sure I want to know. What would motivate me to move past this moment?