Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Midnight's Dew (5)

i go back to the days
on the other side of may
and search for where i gave myself

suspended into powdered white clouds
sprouting free as the lusting seeds of weeds
stretching through open air
festering on the window sills
of the night time,
sharp wind flutters beneath my dress
i am quiet, and still
i look to God’s unchanging hand
with bare feet pressed to the brittleness
of broken glass, reflecting the blood stroked above each door

hoping to be kept safe here, away from the stark winds of the night time
i make myself open, i dare to bellow out and cry
because i gave myself surely
I am my wounded sacrifice

i go back to the days
on the other side of may
and search for where i gave myself

the waves have crashed
the river has turned
and the ocean has swung into gulfs

i sit barren, quiet, still, and numb

harvest time has come,
it is the brink of a new dusk

Sauerkraut (4)

i’ve got turned up cabbages
and a torn out harvest
protruding from my center

a place where i go to touch, sometimes

they hold me there,
trying to revitalized my dead body
the bareness of my empty
seemed like ghost had came by now
and got the best of my loveless kisses
choruses out in screams, and hair burnt white

touching me smooth,
stroking me deep

Devil makes a mean pot roast
wholesome with his full foot
i choked it down into swallows
i make me good and full

(it rains here sometimes, in autumn)

and i catch, with big wide open hands,
all my teardrops

careful not to drown
in puddles of my quick fear
careful not to land in the pit of broken leaves
that are soon to frost over

i can’t tell if the rain is clear,
or blue
and if i am still here

if i bellow out my destitute
will it diminish into depths
of sour tongues, coated over
with the sweet mornings of may

(Pastor dressed up on Easter Sunday)

i sat, and let the tears patter down
on the rooftops of my head
(i am coupled whispers)
the taste on dangerous lips
touching me smooth,
stroking me deep,

i am quiet, and still
cold and bitter

there are waves crashin’
sendin’ rivers turnin’
and oceans swingin’ into gulfs

where i lay my naked babies
in the water of an old song

easily lost in submergence

i admire their lifelessness- (in adoration)
i am quiet and still
cold, stark, and bitter

it’s the brink of dusk
harvest time has come

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Afterthought (3)

Watch wistful white kisses
diminish down depths of destitute-

sing my rhythmic freedom,

i’ve got blood cuffed ‘round my neck
(rings of burnt lines)
sour hunger,
and ungratefulness

keep me like they taught you
with smooth touches and deep
strokes holding together, breaking honesty. 

The love of mine-
All gone, burnt up, far from
you now

real dead, deeply blue

keep me like they taught you
knives hung over pure white snow
rough ravished and touched
destroyed, like you

keep me like they taught you
haunting me, with chilled hot eyes
(choking everything)

swallowed up on bitter salvation
swung down, deep down
bitter, emptiness

it rains here sometimes,
in May

in no man’s land
i sit, and let tears patter down
on the rooftops of your head
i sit

you stand in puddles of quick fear,
and lust

keep me like they taught you
i feel coupled whispers round dangerous lips
touching me smooth
stroking me deep

i’m quiet, still

keeping me like

I taught you

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Things I've learned as of 2014

to smile in the midst of the storm

to nurture the me that i am

to appreciate my reality

to be in control of my mind

to cultivate positive energy
in an atmosphere of negativity

to be thankful for what’s real

to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh

to trust

2 dance like no one is watching

nd write like no one is reading

to be honest with everything

to speak, up

and thank God for the unseizing downpour
of love  

2 be humble

2 be thankful

2 give