Curtains drawn against the sun
Of an autumnal afternoon
Spent in another hotel,
She drowns in what
The bathroom mirror shows
Of emptiness in sapphire eyes
As her empty heartedness grows–
Her wrinkles a road map
Of crosshatched lies
Told and lived even now,
As her fingers grip
The sink edges of porcelain
Cold against her skin.
Her mind swirls,
Dizzy, lost in her creations
Of new golden plated lies.
Wrangle words, twist defenses
Round heart and soul,
You need the bricks
Behind which
You hide, denying
the blackness all see
Of the hate you spit.
Remember Jacob’s hip
After wrestling with God.
A world bequeathed to us
In the breaking sounds of softness
Sighs from the weight
Of lost innocence and souls,
Mourning the loss of her lineage of love
In our desire for riches and more,
Grows weary of the heaviness of us.
The tonnage of our selfishness
Swirls in her oceans,
Fouls her air,
Tears apart her mantle.
In anger,
Her sky weeps,
Her winds whip up her seas–
All to wipe the weight of us
From her face, her body.
Thus, the earth we bequeath.
I burned The Witch of Frost,
Melted away her power,
So–
I am no longer
Bewitched by frost
In chilling climes.
Neither am I
Spellbound by lighted
Fires of fake fantastical
Promises of ghosts—
Nor can I hear
Whispering words meant
To warm you against the frost
Of lies used to charm,
Bewitching you
Into believing
Frost’s chilling, icy burn
Is desire’s fire warming.
Emptied vault opens,
casts leavings of shriveled seeds
beyond redemption.
Between the edges
nothing could penetrate here,
wind, rain, tears—nothing.
Sound had no life here,
dying in small deaths of emptiness,
eternal silence.
A life damaged beyond
repair, encased by cold stone,
a life of shriveled seeds,
lived in a stone vault—
lightless, soundless
thirsting.
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Sit among the willows,
drifting in ghostly silence,
each wrapped comforted
by misery’s blanket.
Except I am no longer,
listening to words
carefully scripted,
tumbling into deceit’s
delicious dishes
easily prepared
by your thin lips mouthing words
filled with ghost meaning.
Regurgitated regrets
bitter in the soul and heart–
I can tell you that.
A thing you would not
ever know, catalyst of misery,
your starring role.
Except–
tell-tale signs of age
now crackle through songs of your
sweet, deceitful voice,
makes harder to catch
victims snared in misery
of life trials made.
Stop floating among
the willows, thinking yourself
Calypso casting
spells of delicious
deceit, when you’ve aged into
Macbeth’s witch drifting
in the ghostly fog of ego.
Ignoring the ripples doesn’t work,
Beautiful though they may be
In the early light of an autumn dawn.
The ripples return.
Their warmth long gone,
Drained of blood.
Injected with colors of autumn’s dawn,
They look full, alive with mysterious meaning.
But cold these ripples remain
In their return to me.
Time shifts,
Tilting beneath my feet.
I shutter and stare, a moment only—
I cannot weave these cold things
Into a useful thing, resembling you.
Lucidity picks at the chains wrapped round a soul
Anchored to the ground of fears bought whole
In the marketplace while traipsing through dreams
Resplendent with beauty and flights of fanciful imaginings
That harsh noisy words and bruising blows etched,
Tattooed lucid fears.
In the fading light,
My hindsight schools, lectures, drills
My foresight
In how to take steps,
In how to look away,
In how to live hopeless,
In how to heal with saltwater dreams
Overflowing with hope.
Yet still with foresight
In how to guard,
My scars, my wounds,
My picked at scabs
In this
fading light of days
Unfilled,
Lived,
Cheered,
Flowering with dreams,
Left
Of life remaining.
I take the truth
for it is mine,
rolling myself in it until
protected from the acid of the asinine
that drips from the pens, the tongues
of many and power,
of those we call elite,
of those we once called—
friends.
I grieve the words spoken
by asinine tongues
and actions taken
by hate filled hearts
that do not comprehend the words
we were taught—
“love your neighbor as yourself”—
The second commandment.
These are my inner thoughts, passions and inspirations.
An insight to a heart mind and soul.
An onion has many layers. So have I!
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