A page in a story

Uncertainty.

2008-09-28T13:02:00.001-07:00

She wore her comely edge like the frayed hem of her dress
Uncertain of its origin
Derived from possibly the delicate nature of the fabric and/or her soul
It could be the curve of her nose, or the dip that slips to her lips
Or how and like the dress flows until frayed
The comeliness that is predictable and obvious to the voyeur
But to her, she sees...
The tattered hem that is so much like her
Even as the lace grabs her bosom, accentuating
Drawing ever closer those that would or should see her faltering grace
Maybe not, as her mouth shines a luminous red
So does the roses embroidery delicately on the landscape of her silken dress
And it is all about the comeliness of uncertainty
This common thread of humanness and frayed edges

2008-01-15T03:25:00.000-07:00

The Rose

2008-01-13T03:02:00.000-07:00

What in strange moments can bring this rose, weeping
Softening the thorns, its beauty diminished by each flow
Sun wilted upon dewy breath it pleads before God
Seeking refuge within your hands
To have such lips upon its essence
Shall stop the death of the endless weeping
Surreal the time that mounts between each caress
Where the rose lingers from lack of keeping
Always silent, always weeping

The letter.

2008-01-12T12:13:00.001-07:00

I wrote you yesterday
Tears shed spiritual blood
Ink blended, faded blue
Beneath weighted wet
Words weary quivered from pen
I miss you seeped from nib
Unreason and I united
Mesmerized momentarily
Lingered sad
Written rhythmic tempo shook
Cursive tenderness never before said
Signed, I love you
Fear seizes
Letter lays, sealed unread

Being There

2007-10-22T12:18:00.003-07:00

And as if reason had anything to do with it
As the river flowed, almost as if through me
And in the shallowness of the brook
The coolness of its essence a small, constant swiftness
That sent the length of my hair freely floating
And as if the water were snow, being just deep enough
My arms would move, pushing upon the wetness
And as if I could fly through its current
I would mark the water, as I had done with snow
Angelically, serenely, with my presence
And I would hold in reverence all that was about me
Touching upon its remarkableness
To even the field beyond
Where I could see the lilies that where present
And I would tremble not from the cold
But from the grandness that was inescapable
I am transparent at those times; being still…
So even my breath longs to linger, even after its time

Fear

2007-08-18T02:26:00.000-07:00

As somber as the moon
When the light of the harvest has waned
The cold creeps upon my bed
As the shivers I feel
Cast dreaded doubt, deep within my bones
The crisp of my sheets grow wintry
As the dew sits upon the sill
My shadow ever narrower
Against the crack of the paint that peels
The tick of the clock once silent
Unheard, for merry noise filled this place
Now is engulfed with an ominous voice
As the hour chimes a hideous strike
Plank floorboards creak without footsteps
Calling my name on approach
No warmth I find beneath linens and wool
As my head bends and curls in the dark
Where my body does lie
This is not an insipid moment
But the blow of something near
Treacherous to the living, something that I fear
It ask not of my opinion, though I grown privy to its lust
As it seeks to pull me to it, through the dark I cannot trust
And it would lend itself to the cessation, to my heart I now can hear
To the silence of my reason, to the blackness of the gloom
That grows inside of everything, deep within my room

The Orchid

2007-08-09T15:38:00.000-07:00

It was pressed hard within the worn yellow pages
The hard-bound book of "War and Peace"
Spoke well of their years together
The scent long past
The orchid with its delicately tied bow
Now just remnants; dried with curled satin
It had been yesterday, so it seemed
With a smile gingerly she placed it
Now she felt the decay
The feeling was old and crumbled as the pages
Leading to tears congregating and saturating the inscription
"My darling, I will always love you"
The wetness then traveled through the volume
Staining the blank last page

And she is too much

2007-07-29T16:15:00.001-07:00

She breathed him in
Much like a dragon would exhale flames
But she inhaled, consuming
She knew, he knew
As all about the ground would still scorch

Lazily, calmly, was never in her vocabulary
Her bed was red with the fire of consumption
Her breakfast table was mounted centrally with heat
From table to mouth with one smooth movement

Though the cold fruit juices would elongate to the table, lazily
From her half open mouth of desire
A contradiction of thought and action
Her tongue sweet, the table now sweet
But her mind carnivorously raw

And he would be, until...
The breath consumed, wholly
Where the holiness of God chooses to be absent
She's young you know
She has time, so she thinks

Heaven is wasted on the young, so she lives...
Not marginally spiritual
But as an all too much diva of the flesh
And he's momentarily there, the morning after

Dragon's Breath

2007-04-05T19:46:00.002-07:00

My Poem as read by Anna

Desire

2006-08-11T16:02:00.002-07:00

To have this die, long before the night
In midday heat, to passion's delight
Before the moon captures the essence of still
The silence that cometh to break the noise of day
To the cloisters and festers of that, that does love
The warmth and reason of sun
Where the dry bones of prolonged ecstasy, sullied
Desire has its flight; its death of breath
On curves and hills of flesh, and ears that long to hear
The consonants and vowels of a tempestuous momentum
On blades of grass, dry, but of the sweat that is sweet
A comment to God;

Or is it not?
To find you, between the rows of daisies, fragrant
Indistinguishable from other tender
But for the hand that reaches for cheek, and lips for mouth
These, our bodies that fall to ground, to press…
Aggressively, towards a desirous end
Where the wake of unpretentious motives would see its own demise
For loftier notations, on the quintessential bed, where love might lie
To the fury of the union; to the hope, in need
On the floor of the garden in the noonday sun
To the height of the season where truth can abide
Us, in its reason; to the approaching night

2006-03-27T23:25:00.004-07:00

I was born into this world searching
Purpose seizing and eluding all in one breath
Meandering hopes and dashes spring boarding for attention
And all the while sensing not yet
So, where do I go?
I don't know
But the journey doesn't stop with my hesitation
It flowers in its own season
Be it my winter; its summer
It all comes just the same
And I am left to ponder the commencement of some answer within
When its summer will be mine
The time when our flowers bloom in the same season
And when I know will come to sit readily on my soul
But until, my gait clumsy flounders, on that which meanders
And I simply live

A question of love.

2006-02-28T16:52:00.000-07:00

Should I hold you to my soul?
The part that is holier than the most of me
That is not bound by the accordance of properties
As it drifts past the Kali-for-nia horizon
Genuflecting before divinity
I would have you there
After I consumed the fire of you
For nothing more can placate this one
Drawing nigh that which is you, or another
Blurring the lines of reason
And all about there are subtleties
And things that should be
Yet, it all seems antiquated
Though suspicions would have me think ordained
Or maybe it is not that at all
But do I love you enough to contemplate infinity
Whilst brevity seeks a commission
And do the simplicities of our union hold a truth
That would conjure an ethereal lucidity
Driving you deep into the somewhere, that is part of me

2006-02-20T00:28:00.000-07:00

I was just shoe shopping online. All is right with the world now that www.zappos.com exist. Can I hear it for shoes?

Stiletto

My feet slide into fashionable attire
Snug, almost too
Burlesque queens
My arches peer over in seduction
Titillating onlookers
Angling my ankles into a cool, jive position
Ready to capitalize on the rhythm of…
Come hither
Where my thighs would utilize and comprise
Along with my hips that move to mesmerize
The song of the stiletto
Which is neither whored nor pimped on these delectable feet
But wrapped in a measure of its own unique beat
And then sometimes these four inch spikes move into a position that is undeniably lethal

The rose

2006-02-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

What in strange moments can bring this rose, weeping
Softening the thorns, its beauty diminished by each flow
Sun wilted upon dewy breath it pleads before God,
Seeking refuge within your hands
To have such lips upon its essence
Shall stop the death of the endless weeping
Surreal the time that mounts between each caress
Where the rose lingers from lack of keeping
Always silent, always weeping

Red rose in winter

2006-02-15T04:19:00.000-07:00

It shunted the cool day temperatures
The night's deep freeze
And all about the sky grew hazy
Eliminating stars and spheres
Soft the white would come with jagged edges
Covertly designed to hinder its life
And rose, rooted deeply, sighed
As the white became an ocean
Covering daffodils, geraniums, lilacs and all
The master oak yawned
Closing its eyes for winter sleep
And the willow naked from trunk up, settled in
The rose, contemplated
With thorns, down through the now frozen soil
To spiraling texture of its roots
And though the wind howled and the blanket grew thicker
It mustered a bloom, scarlet red
To honor, passed the overtaken sky
The bleakness of the frigid air, to the heavens
Where angels never sleep, and God is held in reverence
And so the bloom prayed while all slept
Silently, before the glory of God

Loving you

2006-02-14T23:59:00.002-07:00

You are that moment for me
That instant when all things become boundless
Where I forget all motions I created in singularity
A place of peace
Where not only are you reflected in the depth of my eyes
But in the providence of my heart
And all is so ready for the likes of you
Even passion, where I grab its mane
Riding it through the lush fields that migrate through your mind
Sending charges to the beats and flows that sustain me
As if my pulse never had a reason before our synchronicity
I am beyond me, in you
A plea fulfilled in the curvature of your smile
And all that would have damned me, leaves
As pure our union, where grace speaks
The fabric of God; love, I feel
And now I am not reminded, but renewed
In soft layers of things seek(ed) and found
This not an avenue, but life most fulfilled
And most treasured, loving you

Comfort

2006-02-13T12:51:00.002-07:00

Soon...
Beneath the autumn, fallen leaves
Nearer the every widening branches
And drooping persona of mister willow
Down by the old railroad tracks and blue house
Back behind the aged rock, covered in moss
That lingers near a small stream
I shall lay my head to dream
And it would only seem to be for many seasons
As a light drizzle comes to greet
And cover me with its absolute expression
Sheeting ground and flesh with the sparkle of wet
As I sleep, I do see somewhere...
It knows me, this place
It shakes the ground of clover
And as I grin it covers me
From my bare toes to the tender curve of my neck
And I feel warm as it breathes upon me
In sleep I see that which should compel a deep exhale
For it is beyond my making
And I can rest in the slender fingers of God's hand
This place of somewhere, nearer to the omnipotent
That drips his creation delicately on my soul
On the forever, green grass of my dreams

The land of NOT

2006-02-12T10:15:00.001-07:00

Admittedly, this is not a masterpiece; I can't stop thinking about junk food (big, silly laugh).

Imagine a candy crop
With deliciously scented fancy drops
That crush between your childhood toes
Where the weight would make the cotton candy float
Towards licorice strips that seem to breathe
With ease
Where friends would meet to taste the treats
Somewhere down by the stream
That seemed effervescent to the touch
Where neon blasted colored fish host
The trees that linger by the side
And swing icicle taffy to the cries
Of chocolate covered vanilla ice-cream
That dreams
Of seasons filled with marmalade
And fudge birds that sing the crème de la
Through marshmallow clouds that melt when hot
Above the gooey grass that drops
The celebrated spicy hot
That tickles the tongue
And brings you back to the land of NOT

As I saw her

2005-10-22T16:13:00.002-07:00

He never understood the madness that so prevailed her
The mangled twisted branches that entwined, bare but for spring
Ancient secrets that howled between gaping holes
There was beauty from a distance
In the seemingly still, quiet nature of her demeanor
But to hold brought thorns
No, not a rose
There was the scent, sweet, that floated to the distance
With the sights so many longed for, but they could not know
She lived beyond reason, in the squalls of yet another world
Where she delved to linger, crossing branch upon branch, mind bent

"My Sweet Saint"

2005-10-22T15:53:00.000-07:00

(Anna's corner of the world)

By dense ivy that does not shimmy, but curls the branchless tree
And the lush filled canopy, green with leaves
And the sky that does peek through, evermore deep cerulean blue
And by the beaten path, to the door no more
To the shack where I lay my head, not in dread
Where memories weather, fair this day
Behind planks that are touched by olden gray,
Harboring miniscule secrets that long to say, we live
And they do, in my eyes that revel in this time
In a corner of the world that seems sublime
Not marsh, but dry, lush vegetation, particular to this place
And it draws me fanciful, where I long to touch upon more
To the secrets deep within summer foliage, and those trees
Whose bark speaks, scarred by etched names
Tempered by rain and years
Though, one remains, “My Sweet Saint”

Dragon's breath

2005-08-16T04:29:00.000-07:00

I am so tired of dealing with this piece tonight. I'll edit it later. I am aware of its problems.

To send before the mirrored force, standing beyond the glare
a so crossed sainted knight and the maiden so fair, Zur
United in stance and heart, with locks that entwine
a single beating that ravished the land of Thine

With crimsoned clovers and daffodils the dragon Muir laid amidst
One purpose seized the fire that creeps upon his breath
to hold within his clutches, the red that floated fine,
the sweetness of her scented bloom that traveled through her lover's mind

Reflected within, not without, I watched beyond the realm,
the taking of the sword, his blade, as he held it to her lips
"Be my strength, the guided force, that strikes upon its flesh
the tough UN-manacled armored hisser that lays within the mist”

It is so, as she kissed the silver pure and passed her fingers upon the sharp; the blood blessed her knighted suitor
This virgin love fell before his feet,
weeping with guided remorse as she made her final plea,
"Be not the one that lingers dead that dreams can only see
Conquer the vile upon his breath and bring his tongue to me”

He wandered into midnight, the blackness took it toll
with rips and tears from mangled trees, dense within the fold
Her tears became the arrows, that gathered up the light
Within the dark a brightened path to guide her sweet knight

The stench took its seat upon his flared demands
As he crossed from now, into never, never land
The thunder rose and charred the field hundred feet or more
This knight alone, a sad replenish against the foe of four
The dragon green, shimmered, with the sweet that permeated man
To have, to hold, to its delight the maiden within its grasp

He took his sword that so been blessed, the kiss that felt so far
And swiped upon the meadow blades to test the sharp of Zor
He hide beneath the shadows, beneath the dragon's breast
Darting in and darting out upon the cunning test
It bent its head, directed flames that glowed upon the land
Scorching the just scent of man and its own tender flesh

The knight had his honor and took his Zor in hand
and with a thrust beneath the breast that laid the heart of Muir
sainted by her tender touch he drove the blade of pure
He rolled up from under, quickly to the wail
Just before the dreaded beast laid upon the spell
"I shall have, it is mine" the knight let out a scream
And with a stroke it was his, the tongue did not bleed

The light was that of fables, that showed upon the Muir
and with a wisp, the breeze did blow within the land of Thine
While upon the shadowed ashes of the dragon that once stood
appeared the maiden Zur to bond with her sweet knight
Now for favor, just reward, as the softness of blood shall flow
on linen and lace the trails of victory upon their wedding bed
'Tis the night for lovers meant upon the dragon's breath

The street woman

2005-03-30T02:58:00.000-07:00

It is unbecoming, her state
Long flowing hair, narled
Glistening eyes, dull
Her vocabulary, now grunts
How the mind translates into defining the body
Or maybe it's the reverse
But I can see it on her
Her gypsy tone diminished
Her eyes blacken by repetitive motion
Maybe she is just tired
How she drawns me in to contemplating her situation
Do I know her; it seems
What recognition calls me before her?
I would choose to ignored her, so as to not think
I want to be blissfully happy
But I feel a correlation
Unrecognizable, but there
Maybe the state of womanhood
Or maybe just my humanity
This creature I cannot pass, passively by
Her spiritual tendrils pull me into her world
And I think possibly I shall be better for it
Through the darkness there is dawn, so they say

The world not in grace.

2005-03-20T00:25:00.001-07:00

I pull the blanket to my chin,
Much more shelter from myself then cold
As the sheets are damp from thought and perspiration
And the wet drives itself into my bones
I ache from tension; these knees rebel
Too much contemplation this blustery night
Where ghost ride my haunting memories
In search of rest within this mind
Where shadows play, manifesting on every wall
Creaking floors taking their toll, and always this mind realizing
It is dark and dank, and always just behind
But I can pity beneath these cling-free sheets, rationalizing
And all about me is the consequences, of your thoughts, your deeds
my actions, and how this worlds symphony can be defining
Yes, this night is cold, as my spirit reaches out past injustice
And my throbbing heart considers growing old
And all that is behind me, you
What fools we are these egos of flesh, imprisoned by tradition of self
And I am left to wonder why I feel its weight
While my room spins as I try to sleep
Be not gone from this life, but live, that I may rest
Conscientiously involved in the dilation of motive
And my sleeplessness shall not be the sum of my future
And the shadows that play, shall be...
A branch, the wind, and a harmonious dance

Childhood

2005-03-19T23:38:00.003-07:00

I played there as a child, amidst the trumpet flowers and such
Where bountiful blossoms sprung forth haphazardly
I could run for miles, around and around, circling freely
The wind blowing the straight of my hair
I would puff fluffed prickles from overgrown weeds
Sending them to and fro

This is where you'd find me
This is where I long to be
In the still nature of childhood, lost in secret fantasies
Down near the oak tree where the stream rushes by
Where heaven meets the sunset on the horizon
After the heat of the day
This is where I'm most happy
Where I could catch tadpoles from the shallows
And watch life spring forth
Where frogs would frantically gulp newly hatched mosquitoes
And I could sit playfully by
Where birds would come to nest out of harms way
And gather worms for their young
This is where I long to be
Where tears have no place
Where joy reaches it peak, wreaking havoc on blind senses
Lazily in summertime, where the smell of fresh lawn clippings
Taste the wind, traveling over mounds, to reach a this child
This is where I long to be, even now

The Table

2005-03-18T05:07:00.000-07:00

He pulled back the tapestry curtain
Which was already half drawn
Tattered from fingers before
Worn in the center
Before him stood a lone table
It appeared to be Chippendale
So appropriate, he thought
He moved slowly, hesitating
Feeling the need to explore
Wrought with anxiety he tripped
Grabbing the sides of the antique
They toppled together
It was as she
The image that he somehow saw
It wasn't clear
But embedded in the grooves of the grain
He realizes this was hers
How often he thought of her
Fingering the misted memory
Trying to hold on
It could have been, it should have been
But often it just wasn't
Time has that way about it
Being slightly off kilter
If it had been before, or after
It would have been
But he lies now not with her
But alongside her table