Category Archives: #confession

FIRE OF HEARTS

THE bad weather had subsided. \the sound of the spring equinox heralded the falling of a silence on the world. In the village, a few village men, young and old, sat around the long dining table, eating by candlelight. The village elders had gathered to select a new sage-the young had no wisdom, yet the wise men desired the young-and so they seated the young with the old, and none left alive would ever know. Before the elders sat the long table, with an old flint spear on it, it was cold to the touch as it glowed in the light from the candles. \(but it was worth it, it was the knowledge that I will not return. \) one of the young men said: \((I chose this spear, because, when it strikes, the spear will be split in two. Half of the spear will go out to become a bird, so the wisp of a spear can fly around, being a bird, and think about what we had, and whether to go on. Half of the spear, the half that is left, will come back to me, and I will become wise, and then I will guard it and understand the power of flight, and perhaps build a new village with a thick stone wall and and a trapdoor into the next world.\)) \((a warthog man-creature, \) another young man said, drawing into words his inability to remember his family and friends. ((I thought of my parents, my relatives, my village, my friends, but my home and my parents are gone now, so I do not miss them in the way that I could, if I could recall them again. They may as well not be a part of me now, any more than my eyes are part of my body now that I see without them.)) \((but what of the village, of my life? the wisp of a spear? what shall I do with it? \) the young man asked. \((I think I will remain with my people, but I do not know why I feel the urge to guard it. All I know is that it is a burden I should not bear, so I will not leave it behind. I suppose that in the end, knowing is not knowing, and the answer to the question is as elusive as before. And that is my answer to the way ahead, at least for now.\)) ((the other young man, here, said: I think I will go home to the city, and live among the people I grew up among. I will remember the things of my youth, but not the sorrows of my home. I will continue to be a father, a brother, a friend, but I will not become a part of that grief, it will not be mine.)) \((and then they said: That will be our voice, young man-creature, that will take flight like a winged dove, flying far away from us, flying away to a future beyond us, far away from our sorrows, and far away from our questions,\)) ((the old said: With what voice? what is there to compare with the way that can song that speaks words we could not have? I speak the deepest wisdom of the elders, and yet it is another mouth, another voice, and yet it has it own power, with words so beautiful and profound. Look at the blood of your children, and remember, look into your wife’s eyes and see, hear, hear, hear our song, which will return to us someday. Our words will leave us, to be another’s song. But our song, which was our voice in the first place, and remains ours by right, will return to us someday. It is not the way ahead. Yet even in that deathly quiet of remembering, you will know us. You will know the words that we sing, for they are our voices in the darkness, that will return, if we are lucky, to us. They will not sing the words that we have said. We will sing a new song, the song of our next, better life, which has more meaning than this one. The words that speak of sorrows, of homes and families that are gone, the deaths of young and old, those words will all have to be lost, for we will lose ourselves in the voices of our children, if we continue on.)) \((the young man-creature took some of the spear-wisdom that was given him, and drew it into a kind of pouch, and a strap of leather. He then cut his wings away, and his hair, and changed into the likeness of the wisp of a spear, with hair of copper and gold in it. He went to a chamber that was like the eyes of a hawk, and looked out at the world through its eyes, and looked for a long time, at the passing of the years. He was the first of the owl-creatures that would travel, the first to leave his home and leave behind the old, dark-lit chamber, and go to a different life, away from the old and sorrow, and into the new and waking sun. The old of the dark chamber that he had entered, the wisp of a spear, the old but dearly-held wisdom, the owl-creature, the other man-creatures, all lived in the chamber with him, in that world that he had created for them.))

:: 03.30.2021::


FOURTEEN

i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!

To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.

Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.

Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.

Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.

Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life

It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).

14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.

:: 12.24.2020 ::


BRAIN TRAFFIC

It’s a complicated world
ruled by pain and fear
Everything’s ‘will you swim
or will you fade’
the smallest things
hold us back
the madness outside
these walls
are nothing compared
to what’s within my halls

Brain traffic: s/o confused
grid-locked & neurotically fused
Drain my Soul
Brain traffic: over/used
fear-porn-fed till your dead
then Life’s on hold
it’s all Inside your head
BRAIN DEAD.

:: 03.27.2020 ::


WEB OF DECEIT

“I’ve always had an eating disordered. I use to blame it on stress…” A heavy pregnant pause hung above the room.

“But now I realize it was not who I am but what I am. I even use to blame my binges on how poorly I spin my web — but it is an automatic instinctual reaction.”

Taking off a pair of horn-rimmed glasses the fly, who never lost a patient, looked directly into the eyes of his patient the spider and gently spoke.

“Be who you are.”

-THE END-

:: 03.23.2020 ::


LYCANTHROPIC ME


WELCOME MY GHOSTS

THAT I have tried and succeeded is only in great measure

That you have been there with all my fears and displeasure.

Holding my cramped heart and swollen hands is how you have

Saved both my mind and spirit – the soul; still intact down

By the emptying rivers that lead to unexpected consequences.

And to weep while watching the death of a perfect day and to

Realize that birth was only half that day ago is sobering:

We watch each other’s eyes while laying on our sides and

Breathing in cadence I tell you that I am a fortunate peasant

And you the Queen who has welcomed by Ghosts.

:: 07-12-2017 ::


READY TO CONFESS

YOU say, ‘love, so be it’
and i will pretend i am
ready || you whisper
within hot skin ‘I want
to place all my secrets
within your heart’
until i get out of all
this mess//and if you say,
‘I’ll be here when you’re
ready, love.
When you’re ready
to confess.

:: 09-01-2015 ::


The Dinner Plate

the dinner plate
is quite empty
i sit here
contemplating
quietly awaiting
a meal for my soul
and thoughts
as clean as porcelain
invade me
the clarity of my mind
fed me!

::  03-10-2015 ::


METRO COUNTRY LANE IS HER NAME

It’s been some hurting time: I lost it in a dial of fountain garbage youth — catfish mouth hooks and I never saw you sorry inside
Boreas is colored freezer pain! I haven’t had a hand job or pie Since the government gave me opportunity or more chances than churches where Jesus hangs on solemn walls while
flesh bags cry and pray for all their sins in a covered wagon somewhere in the 1950s black and white television. Gee I never knew ancient ones wore makeup and butterfly Lips like a hungry flower in a whore field. The sky gave me her scars like purple vaginas missing periods for months.
And Billy went to the store to pick up a jar of fat pickles. She never reached behind the curtain but I had my dummy and a fist beneath his cheap shirt making all the moves of a failed life.

11-03-2014 ::


CARELESS WITH A DELICATE SOUL

AND the devil said, “Who’s got the heart
of my lover?” and the sky burned
in thunder-lust and the angels fled
like a bad bad storm.
I stood up like a prick and said,
“I ate him last night.”
And heaven help me for the way I am..
I am just a hungry woman looking for
the one who can help me know I am
more than this need I have within my soul.
So the devil looked inside my soul
and flew away, said, “honey, you got more
a need for the soul you ate
and I’m just the devil.”

I’ve been a bad bad girl
and I ran away the devil
but all I need is just
a good man.

:: 11-17-2014 ::