|"Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." ― Basil King|
Happy LOVE Day!
Hope you all have a wonderful day and even if you don’t have a valentine or the valentine you wanted, be your own. Don’t think about it too much. Just get some chocolate 🍫 and flowers and put up fairy lights and watch your favorite movies. Love y’all and thanks for all the positive energy with my writing! Thank you!
To those who know...
To ethereal gods and goddesses,
My moon and I are bound.
But the binding is made of roses,
Wild and sharp to the core.
So my darling and I are warriors,
Only to fight for their wars,
We exist not but in the ichor
Of those to whom we are bound.
So our ears ring out with cries,
As the world below us crumbles.
Because no amount of war
Can ever bring peace.
And no amount of power either.
Ghosts of ideas passed haunt my waking dreams with broken arms outstretched to grab hold of pretty words and pretty thoughts, I take pity on myself. That the gods of prose forsake my haunted mind and all it has to bare. Where my clipped wings fail me, claws dig in the internal wreckage breathing fire and scraping up words by the syllable. Only this and I write with bloody hands the songs of the haunting history inside my head. Inspired only by the lack of sleep and heavy aching passions. One day it will all be different, such a soothing notion when the storm is raging on.
To dreams and faded wishes.
Ascend the darkest pathway,
to the skies so full of stars.
But the hope we see in the darkness remains as darkness,
a cold hearted empty graveyard of stars. Wine colored and brightly tinged with dreams
and old dying wishes.
It’s odd how we try so hard to convince ourselves that we’re real and important and special and that there is more to all of this. Why does there have to be more? Why can’t we just be and love and live? Focusing on what we have not all we can attain and what is out there? Sometimes it’s better to see nothing more than what is than to sell ourselves hopeful lies.
Upon the horizon rides destiny.
I waited with bated breath for the sliver lining. But everything is black and red and golden. The sky cries and bleeds with every color but the icy silver of destiny.
It doesn’t matter where you are,
It only matters that you’re not here.
I want to tell so many things
But I can only speak to emptiness.
I remember you’re little blue
and grey house, painted with intricate designs and the smell of fresh air and grapes and sheep.
Thinking about you, no words
Could never amount to any of it.
It’s all just a monologue echoing out
Into the void.
I hope you’re well. I hope you got everything you ever needed. 🌻
If I tell myself that I deserve it,
It doesn’t make it true.
Your words imprinted in my pain
And all I see is blame you
Make me feel.
I wasn’t born with a fire in my eyes and big dreams to be a small minded person.
Yeah, flowers are delicate and fragile but so are bombs.
Next time someone treats you like your delicate and fragile,
As if it’s a bad thing, remind them what you’re capable of.
You marched your way into my home,
and tore away my armor.
I could not fight, didn't know how.
Now all my walls are toppled over.
And where my soul once rested,
is left an empty space.
In your wake, only ruin
Marking the intentions of your stay.
This sweater is my armor.
This armor is my fate.
Must leave no fragment bare,
lest I should break under the weight.
Then my breath grows ragged
Should anything go amiss.
Darkness surely would embrace me
Then with Death's encumbered kiss.
Only then could I dare to rest,
When the perils of my youth departed.
Because it all started with a kiss,
I have lived my life fainthearted.
And so death would be a break,
A chance to let my armor fall.
But how can I think of such a loss
As anything other than my downfall?
I shouldn't have to feel like death is the only way I’ll get to be and feel safe.
Not Even Us
Wintry as the bleak December,
In a home of white and blue
Where the fading light of embers
Is set adrift into the air.
Then and there the world grew stiller
And before our eyes–only the ice-kissed view.
As we stand there in the powdery garden,
Transfixed into glassy frosted figures
By the wonder of the opaline dawn before us.
Each leaf encased, each puddle glassed.
It's like time is standing absolutely still and
There is nothing and nobody here,
Not even us.
And then in all it's wonder, I stood and watched the bright blue and cotton white of the sky fade into a thick blackness. Bringing with it that twinkling of the stars and the bright and perfect roundness of the big blue moon. I stood so still and heard and noticed so much that the whole of the earth was like a lullaby nearly putting me to sleep.
But I couldn't sleep, not with this much excitement in my bones. Not with all the problems back at our little cottage, nothing could keep me from focusing and drinking in the beauty and extravagance before me. Each star twinkled and danced as graceful as I've heard Ballerina's are.
Nothing else could ever matter or touch me as much as ...
Tempest She Knew
The tempest under her skin brewed,
and while nobody could see it,
she always felt it hidden within her somewhere,
somewhere deep and dark and unexplored.
Where worlds orbit around her mind,
wild with ideas and possibilities.
Trick of Light
Just a trick of the light,
A wave of a wand,
A blink of an eye,
And the magic is gone.
The wonder is spread
But the truth lays hidden
In the golden rays
Covered by eternal clouds.
Blanketed by an eternity,
I wonder what there is left.
When all you want, is all you get,
But still it never comes close.
Time we spend, and time we don't,
We're always wishing for more.
So, when the stars awake,
We all stare up at the sky
Wishing our lives away.
you get high when you get low
run and hide and outgrow
all those kiddie rollercoasters.
now you get a different kind of high
as you convince yourself you're doing just fine.
but the cycles never end
they just go round and round and up and down
till you become dizzy from the ride
and beg for it all to stop.
till you beg for a different life
and different problems to solve.
So here we are
With time at a stand still
Waiting for words to be said,
That will never come.
Both of us hoping
The other has more courage
To speak those words aloud.
Stand with me up on the narrow
cliffs and take my hand. Maybe we will fly as sparrows,
In endless skies and clouds and suns.
Maybe one day all this bleeding will be secede
And our memories not forlorn, not
Left to fade and erode like water shapes canyons.
I hardly remember much of you anymore...
Blue, immense and crystalline,
Entirely grand in its design.
I'm lost floating in it's cool waves,
And soon they take me under,
Then I am swept with the hurricanes
All engulfed and torn asunder.
Life is like small waves at first
but bigger with each turn and roll.
Eventually strong enough to knock you back
and possibly even rip you to shreds.
It all depends where in the waves you are
each person has their own woes.
I hate that feeling that I don't belong
But I hate it more that I don't blame you
For always leaving me to my solitary existence.
For some reason I can never hate you
Even though you do it every. single. time.
And I'm left alone to all my
Thoughts and lonely memories.
Even when you say you'll be there.
a.k.a. Monsters & Witches
Just a little, or maybe a lot,
You drink just as much as I do.
But I'm a witch in your eyes
And you're just a monster in mine.
I often feel that I do not belong places.
Especially places where everyone is happy and laughing
And chatting together so closely that there is no room
For me within the tight-knit converstaions.
Like a crocheted sweater. Perhaps on purpose.
Little blue, little deep,
The oceans call, the sea’s weep.
Little house, in a little field.
The earth is scorched the prairies bleed.
I find you among the ashes
Lying perfectly still.
A shadow of your former self.
Moon & Sun
Sun shines in through the window.
A glistening orange glow.
The room is lifted higher,
As if floating on air,
As if lifted to the heavens.
It’s incandescent fire gives warmth and sweet kisses.
I am a shadow, I am the moon.
I love the light but I can only reflect the sun. I have no fire on my own. Just a mass of rocks that only knows how to move oceans and rotate around you, a consumând focus. A love full of wonder and sweet whisperings.
The Girl Who Brings Ink To Life
Flowers pressed upon the pages of her poetry. Flowers now as dead as the trees upon which she writes. Her mind hears noise and transforms each random ruffle of a feather, each bark of a dog or wind through trees into music in her ears. Her own little world, oblivious to the passing light and the world around her. She writes with each breathe closer, like contractions. Like labor, like the finished writing, her child, will be here soon. Each breath is a stepping stone higher to the moon and stars. A dance in the moonlit room, a lamp, paper and pen; she dances.
The winding road ahead is dark and unknown
And I’m both excited and afraid.