Poisonous Kiss

We put our smaller into the sea. Her stern displayed her name.

Through the breath of God, Heaven grants rest peacefully.

To my ancestor, I inquired: why have we lowered her in rather than riding her larger shadow?

Preference, simplicity replied.

The winds began to scream for love, the sea grew angrier, too.

Landlocked.

We helplessly sat and watched the two vessels barter, bob and dip with each breath.

We dare not stop what mother nature was starting, neither he nor me.

We watched as the smaller battered the larger, berating its side rhythmically.

The larger would have been fine if we never put our Selah in the water. She ate away at his sides

–insatiable appetite.

The thought passed our minds to try to rescue and save, then reality stripped it away, white knuckled.

A funeral for boats we froze watching, as they would not make it to day break above.

It was not the storm that cracked their ribs with such ear piercing pain,

–but their kisses of disloyalty.

Rime (Circa 2012)

You intrigue me, yet you invade my soul.
Love lost and found but now I am scarred.
I no longer need you to help me feel whole. With a sharp shard
My heart has been cut out, ripped open and marred.
You’ve been hurt too; you’ve loved and we’ve lost.
Death stole from you and lies robbed me blind.
I can not get hurt again- my true love was far from being kind.
Although love isn’t welcome here, the thought of you melts my mind.
I can’t believe you care as you say, but as a person, I trust.
You live out your hours one at a time, slowly- staring.
My life is not as such- I dare not dance with Lust    blaring.
We used to be the same. Sharing
Space and time, liquor and wine
No limits no rules. In the company of fools.
Now I look into your eyes and the land I once inhabited
Calls out for me.
I know that the lush scape won’t welcome me in my new skin.
My demands are too great and my shield too thin- your grin too wide, my heart split open wide
Bleeding.
Suppress. Impress. Duress. What a mess
I have come from and what a lie I once lived.
You’re true to yourself. I am not passing judgement.
Simply, I can’t comprehend what allowed us to be
Conjoined
Tightly as we once were.
Was it all meant to happen
Or was one of two off course?
Did the mountains swallow you while I floated away?
Did the sun scorch you dry or is it I
That has melted to grey
Stripped
From our bright shining sky?
As much as I’d like to stay
Sway back, black from grey
Swinging into the light
Try hard as I might
My ship has sailed and locked its cabins.
Not a porthole is open,
Not a sail left unfurled.
We both used to know the same girl.
This woman killed her.

“Before the phone dies” by Raymond Perry

Outside she’s cool

Inside she’s crying

She’s running for her life

Like slaves in Zion

She lives in a silent hell

She thinks she lost it all

No idea where her mind is

She prays for a better day

But her pain is timeless

Forever plus 3

Is what her time is

 

She rocks steady

Standing in social blindness

Looking for any opportunity

To erase where her mind’s been

Her mind bend

Her heart grins

She’s getting focused

It’s been such a long time

Since she’s felt more than hope

 

Her hope is

This is the beginning of something new

Or the end of something old

Fear creeps in

Reminding her of things that she used to do

She was a fool

Never graduated from school

But she’s cooler now

Cooled down

And saw her present

A gift from God

His life

Her only blessing

So when she starts stressing

Looks at him

No more second guessing

She finally found her weapons

Love life and progression

 

Hope

Forced to crawl across the ground bare-bellied,
Collecting dirt, overseen, exposure a threat
as a serpent.
A tug at the spirit, a force beyond words
Being wrapped in a garment of silk
as a secret queen.
Transformation within, energy exploding
A future unveiled before blind eyes
as a vision.
Strength unfamiliar brings light from the Son
Utilizing new found courage to break forth
as an eaglet.
Spreading new wings, drying the creases
Body unfamiliar and clean
as a newborn.
Vision exposed, no longer a dream
Sight aligns with power for such a time as this
as a lioness.
Gentle wind encourages, time to take flight
Majestic and elegant, full of hope and delight
as a survivor.
There is hope for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CIRCA 2013

Allerednic

My gown engulfs me, poisoning my skin. Disgust.

Fish out of water; my gills choke on this smoke filled air.

I miraculously play the role assigned. Yet, with every curtsy, death decays another fraction of my inner most being.

The straps at the base of my pillars pierce my skin. Clip, clop… 

Flappy jowlled elders enjoy seeing the horse parade, haunches on sickening display.

Demons stare with eyes of darkness and sulfur breath echos from invisible walls.

 

The radiant stair case rules before me. It beckons me– BOW.

Lightening flashes from a far sky, highly coveted. Either that or the venom they’ve injected into me is beginning to overtake my sense of reality. I pray not. I plead, wait.

Drops of medicine from the green blades ascending tickle my exposed pulp, begging me to remember who I was when shoes were a choice and my hair kissed my freckled shoulders with the wind.

I remove the death clamps fixed in my crown. She screams a warrior cry of survival as she tousles down her alabaster tower.

I submit to the call of the giant and curl before its might. Tilting my head towards the great Babel, my hands work in secret to release my neglected, translucent casing from their holding pattern.

I hold the pearl, marble lion steady with my green jewels, as they pierce his soul with the scorching heat of a thousand suns.

Slip, one. Slip, two.

I am postured to pounce. A sense of soul sacrifice engulfs me and I know time hovers watching, awaiting the appointment of my emboldened soul.

The ball of my foot touches his sleek, shiny surface. It is so cold, ice shoots through my veins. I’m paralyzed.

The fire in my heart retorts, pumping magma through my crust. My body overtaking my mind, I thrust.

Pit, pat… the first two placements echo, spiraling into eternity.

I fall under the curse of deafness as I focus solely on the lifting of my stone heavy foundation as gravity claws at my freedom with disdain.

The only remaining resound are the piercing cries of my lungs and the pounding of the violent waves pulsating inside my fractured skull.

 

 

 

Morning Song

The sun kisses me good morning, tickling me through a tiny sliver between his blood red curtains. How did you sneak in here, morning waker, through the shield created to keep you out? I expose my chest so it can kiss me where I like it most, and welcome its sneaky self into bed with me through the sacrifice of a stretch.

I’m far from home, yet surrounded by it in this oasis of rolling tide.

My mind is comforted by coffee grinds coughing, spitting and licking the pot. The aroma wafts through the rafters. I can’t smell it from here, but I can almost see it dancing to a good morning song.

Bellowing pillows hug me back, as the thread count steps out from the shadows; my senses become available to their cognizant display. I’m beautiful, they whisper. I agree with the closing of my eyes as I caress their intertwined conception.

My mind runs through possible responsibilities, reminding me that I am free. I have the day, and so does he, and I am welcome to stay.

Rushed heartbeat knocks on the window, but I don’t strive to let it in. Instead, I roll over, finding there is no uncomfortable spot in this kind valley. I am lingering in an field of bliss, my body tender as it wakes.

The muscle striations remind me of the passion that held me high, levitating as electricity swelled and exploded, even as mutual moans were met with the touching of his tongue to mine. How I love his touch in any form; his fingertips hold the power to melt my soul like wax licked by flame.

My phone chimes, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t see nor care for it at all. I sit up and swing my silk legs off of the alter, allowing my blood to swirl– first to my head and then to my heart, where it pools.

I stretch my neck and remember the gentle hair pull that made my knees week as I submitted to my king.

A presence behind me closes my eyes without permission. Lips touch my shoulder, my back. I surrender my heart once again.

 

Naked Redhead Art (Page #4 of 5) | Fine Art America

 

 

 

 

Painting: “On the Bed” by Andrew Osta

 

 

Save.

Volcanoes erupt from my soul,

Magma garbling from my chakras.

I tried to numb the pain from the only tool left in my chest

of red metal sitting in my garage.

Alas, the tool is haggard, much like my body’s lines.

Rust fills my cracks, overcoming my ability to swing from the poles of my mind.

Tears stream down my chest, curating rainbows of hope.

I lay down to die.

 

Beauty from Pain Painting by Sarah Job

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beauty from Pain Painting by Sarah Job

Soul Journey

Sunflower flame | Svetlana Peric | Flickr

 

Like a wolf she ran low in the field of sunflowers, so tall they were untouchable. They shielded her from the sun like guardians of light, as she ran unseen by the heat. Past stalks she could see her pack running with her, on cool, damp ground, welcoming. She felt stronger than ever, loving her tribe endlessly.

Suddenly, she is wretched and reframed, life taken and placed back with great pain. Confused, she opens her eyes slowly, afraid of what symmetry remained.

She cowards behind the trees, ashamed of like whom they have made her. While the wind whistles between needles of pine, her orange mane flows as though braiding itself.

She looks at the presences which seem to materialize before her. First, a brunette in a dress, bluer than the sea, waltzes into existence teasing her with eyes of play. Then an angel of golden hair and pink satin reveals herself from behind the kiss of lifting fog.

They communicate with one another using their souls alone. Golden and Deep Blue spin a tease and then nod. “Come with us,” they seem to sing, though their lips never part. She smiles as she joins with them palm to palm, with only a whisper of air between skin.

There they run, three bright beauties, fragile, yet strong, all the same, among the trees to a clearing where a waterfall pours below them in a humble bow of gratitude, bellowing them to his warm bay.

They dive simultaneously and with wonder, beginning further than closer, apart. They draw together while spinning, weaving a trifecta of power and might, swirling closer and closer, until chord strong woven. Piercing the surface they crash into, where they become versions of marine life alive. They swim with vigor unmistaken, suspending time along with the tide.

Refreshed, they find themselves standing where waves can no longer reach. Wind massages their gowns until dry fabric, wisps their hair with its care until light. Now land form again, but immortal, they transcend down cool and dry caves.

As adventures slow, she looks longingly, at the new friends she has made once again. Beckoning names to best understand them, with love she hopes they’ll remain.

“Compassion,” the heart of Golden whispers. “Fatigue,” the mind of Blue feigns.

She cries out to the latter, “I don’t want you!” Only silence remains.

Golden elongates her fingers, reaching to sustain Orange Wolf’s turquoise soul. Fatigue’s face wears her pain as a banner, wind wafting sorrow along. Her archway cries of understanding; her time has come- like a dagger to her lungs, she sings her dying song.

A Mighty Judge lowers from the heavens, to decide the fate of the three. “We don’t want Fatigue any longer,” whispers she to the King.

With His hand, away she is banished, from flesh to vapor she leaves. “And now,” states the King with great vigor, “meet Passion as she must be.”

Before them a tunnel of fire, the size and the feel—feminine. Soot at her base, then red bursting into a core of towering heat. So electric, almost a blizzard-like cold, as precious metal on the finger of a Queen. From there the orange heat fades to yellow glow and swirls about, forming a soul.

Without a further word needed, she dives into piercing flame. The King Judge and Compassion stand firmly. Only protection; no pain. Consumed, she merges with the flames, perfecting her pirouette… again.

 

Sunflower flame | Svetlana Peric | Flickr

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Credit: Sunflower Flame, by Svetlana Peric

Limply Laying

Soft hair in her face

Wake up fair skinned doll.

 

Hips thin, legs as straws,

Hang on little one.

 

Help comes–I know it’s loud

but the pain is coming to rescue you.

 

Goodbye fair skinned doll,

God be with you.

Steel

I close my eyes and will the roller coaster ride

to pull into a complete stop.

 

It keeps me flying, turning.

My will changes nothing on this ride.