Angels Among Us...

Not all angels come to us in glimmering pastel clouds shrouded in light, feathers and cinnamon … not all journey forth in gilded chariots, lightening or on a fragrant breeze… on a special errand… simply for me…or you…

Confused…the flight from the choir’s nave or crowded guff, between stars and stratosphere, some angels may merely be lost - the journey having left them distracted or confused…their message and intent perhaps forgotten… Do they find their way to us “subconsciously”… the beacon of a mission so embedded that even with amnesia they find their way to fulfilling their mission or do they wander aimlessly earthbound ….  directionless?

A lucky few, however unbeknownst to them, are met with what some think of as pure Angels…directly “from the big guy above”… they resolve the quandary and disappear… leaving the recipient none the wiser save ever grateful for the seemingly miraculous conclusion to what seemed an insurmountable problem or challenge.

Perhaps some angels come in spiritu… without mass… and infuses or temporarily possess one of us… and this explains the occasional moments of inspiration and grace you witness when perfect strangers seamlessly and unconditionally help one another….

Some folks opt to believe in Karma rather than in the services of divine angels, sprites or Djinn … people themselves are destined to do, help, hurt, save, stop, aid each other as karma dictates – with no personification of divine oversight save to acknowledge the power of the Universe to even things out eventually…

I like to believe that we are all Angels, Djinn, helpful entities… imbued with innocents and goodness… that in our moments of grace, when we are at our best, we are angels for one another… in these moments we are divine…the answer to spoken and unspoken prayers…

Passing Through Time (2013 re-write)

Walking down this lonely corridor

known simply and ironically as “life”,

he has nothing to disturb his thoughts

save the sound of his own dull aimless steps

Echoing…

Echoing …

E…cho….ing… sounds

Bounce bouncing sounds

off endless walls called hours, minutes, days… 

cohorts in crime; 

So…un…ds … 

mingling with memories of rare 

occasions of awareness;

and he wanders wondering…

“How much have I changed

since I last paid attention

to the shifting bouncing sounds

of myself… my…very self… 

passing through time”

Walking down this lonely corridor

Known simply and ironically as “life”

I have nothing to disturb my thoughts

But the sound of my own steps

Echoing…

Echoing

Echoing…sound

Bounce bouncing

off walls called time…

Time…

Sound mingling

with memories of other such occasions of awareness

and I wander wondering…

How much have I changed

since I last paid attention

to the shifting sounds

bouncing sounds

of myself

Passing

Passing through time?

A Lover’s Prayer: Scene 1 (2013 re-write)

Warm and Disarm me with Genuine smiles.

Tend my Heart carefully, 

accept my affections given in kind, 

Believe and Surrender.

For reasons unfathomable 

our threads are tied - our story begun;

Attraction and Attachment

inevitable and unavoidable.

The things I want

are words stuck in wombish buccal cavities

and only my pen communicates freely

those things only fugitively mouthed 

in the company of shadows

where insecurities are masked in the gloom

and my smile mimics

subtle reflections of strength 

greater 

than I 

in truth

bare.

Warm the cockles of my heart with your disarming smile.

Carry my heart carefully in your arms

and tenderly accept my affections given in kind.

Surrender to my confession and believe in me.

For reasons unfathomable

our threads are tied and our story begun…

Attraction and attachment

inevitable and unavoidable…

The things I want

are words stuck in my mouth

and only my pen communicates freely

those things gingerly whispered under cover of darkness

where shame and insecurities are masked in shadow

and my smile mimics

Subtle reflections of strength greater than

I in truth

Bare.

3am Confessions (2013 re-write)

My tongue held for the moment

I wait & write in the dark

for Anonymity.. for Inspiration;

for confessor’s release… for sleeper’s Reward.

Is it vanity or pride -saving one’s tongue for script?

Is it safer?

Does the time elapsed from mind… to hand… 

to pen… to paper

cause truer aim or allow prideful embellishment?

History proves the point - what one writes one “wills” True, regardless of reality or the perceptions of those around us. 

We write memoirs;

not as a last chance at redemption

but as an opportunity, perhaps, to create an extension of one’s self,

which, like a child, will grow with the ages…

be reinterpreted, reincarnated and repackaged to suit the times..

a message, bound in a leather bottle, tossed into the universe;

a message… communicated across the boundaries of time and death if worthy.

Or at minimum, a confession to a blank faced witness - the only thing in the present that knows the truths that have made you as you are and as you see yourself to be… and so… 

I write….

My tongue held for the moment

I wait in the dark

I write in the dark

For anonymity

For inspiration

For confessions’  release

For sleeper’s reward.

Writing...free flowin in the dark…

Waiting for sleep…

Stealing comforts from the rhythmic sound

of a rotating fan

instead of a warm heart beat and embrace.

Is it vanity or pride…

Saving one’s tongue for script?

Is it safer?

Does the time.. elapsed

from mind… to hand… to pen… to paper

cause truer aim…

or allow prideful embellishment?

What solace….

Even prisoners are allowed to write memoirs..

not as a last chance at redemption

but as a last chance to create an extension of one’s self.

which, like a child, will grow with the ages…

be reinterpreted

reincarnated to suit the times..

a message communicated across the boundaries of time and death

if worthy…

Or at minimum…

a confession to a blank faced witness

the only thing in the present that knows the truths

that have made you as you are and as you see yourself to be…

Depression

Deny the dawn
Defy conscious consciousness
behind lids admittedly less weighty and
reject the responsibilities born with rising shadows.
In cotton womb
evade longstanding contemplation
and obvious solutions
and cry out
for the return
of drug induced bliss!

Exorcism (2013 re-write)

To repel that which has been stealthily insinuated into me

Implanting senses with sentimental gore

I strike

Act

Pull at the asphyxiating gummy substance

cemented around

my organs, my nostrils, my teeth, my lungs, my mouth;

gagged and gagging…

I pull out the stuff

stuff

stuff

stuff

baggage…taunt and insistent;

disabled from laughing or crying 

“Will” meant little, exercised in vain

against your sworn disposition and charms.

Now stuck in a piteous state of self loathing

and anger born from deception

I strive to strike out

at all that was birthed in my mind’s eye

in the hopes of obliterating the memory of you.

To repel that which has been stealthily insinuated into me

Implanting senses and sentimental gore

I strike

I act

Pulling at the substance

age old gum

cemented around

my organs

my nostrils

my teeth

my lungs

my mouth

Gagging…

I pull out the stuff

Stuff

Stuff

Stuff

Baggage…

Taunt and insistent

with neigh the ability

to laugh or cry out at the foolishness of my state

having willingly invited the demon in.

Will.. meant nothing

exercised in vain

against your sworn disposition.

Now stuck in a piteous state of self loathing

and the anger born from deception

I strive to strike out

at all that was birthed in my mind’s eye

by your loathsome influence

in the hopes of obliterating the memory of you

Purge (2013 re-write)

Purge!

Purge!

Purge!

My wretched pen chokes on words I can not perform. 

Myself, my guilt, my passions, my only audience…

my mind, this white glaring page, my amphitheater, 

where doubts and avoided confessions

echo ceaselessly and mercilessly

off defensive canyon walls that conspire against me.

Purge the thoughts

Perish the deed!

The power of “The Word”, words

shadow ghouls of the Eighth Circle 

leave me tattered and shamed by my passive inactivity

and heartened by my silence.

Purge

Purge
Purge

My wretched pen chokes on the words

I can not perform in your presence…

Myself, my guilt, my passions

my only audience…

my mind and this white glaring page

my amphitheater.

Where doubts and avoided confessions

echo ceaselessly and mercilessly

off defensive canyon walls that conspire against me.

The power of “The Word”, words

tare at me like shadow ghouls from lovers’ Hell…

both

leaving me tattered and shamed by my passive inactivity

and heartened by my silence.

Fallacious Regret (2013 re-write)

Sly

Smooth

Silky mofo

I know you

I wanted you

I had you;

witting alone, feeling a sack of used parts

I regret you.

Like a plague of locusts

a carousel of thoughts bombard me;

“I didn’t mean to make contact… should have avoided the trap, snaring me into a catatonic state of blissful denial…! Stuck in our time.. your story, making me reminisce the undone.. the unsaid, and all sort of base bestial and vampiric things; shouldn’t have let you touch me, quickening, like quick silver, the poison in my veins; Touch, Touch, T.O.U.C.H, suspended in time, molten lava touch, making my defenses steam like a fresh carcass. I shouldn’t have displayed myself to your fleshy altar.!”

and I can’t honestly despair now, 

when after all the wet stiffness,

the fantasies didn’t come true;

Now, in the after shock, stewing in denial & guilt

trying to convince myself I was an “accidental” participant of my own demise; capable of blaming no one, 

despising my senses for their vivid support;

I cringe from the me

that embraced the Devil…

and Liked it!!

Sly

Smooth

Silky mofo

I know you

I wanted you

I had you

Sitting alone, feeling a sack of used parts

I regret you.

Like a plague of locusts

A carousel of thoughts bombard me…

“I didn’t mean to make contact… should have avoided the trap of your face

Your eyes snaring me into a catatonic state of blissful denial…!”

Stuck in our time.. your story

Making me reminisce the undone.. the unsaid

And all sort of base bestial and vampiric things

I shouldn’t have let you touch me

Quickening, like quick silver, the poison in my veins

Touch

Touch

T.O.U.C.H

Suspended in time

Molten lava touch

Making my defenses steam like a fresh carcass.

I shouldn’t have displayed myself to your fleshy altar.

I shouldn't despair now…

When after all the wet stiffness

The fantasies didn’t come true…

Now.. in the after shock

Stewing in denial & guilt

I sit here

Trying to convince myself

I was an accidental participant of my own demise…

Capable of blaming no one

Despising my senses for their vivid support…

Cringing from the Me

That embraced the Devil…

And Liked it!!

Dew and Eternity (2013 re-write)

Slept like a stone

wishing you were

the sweet moss and brush

beneath me…

Slept like a rock

wishing you were

the sweet moss and brush

around me…

Predator, Hunter, Hunger and Complacency

Jazz smoke thickened the atmosphere

Laughter, alcohol and pheromones

proved apt partners for the excitement and awkwardness

of acting in front of strangers and only slightly less strange comrades.

Stealing glances with the individual who netted my attention.

We are reinvented in my mind…

We converse

And through this all probable futures appear…

Acting as chips in a poker game

black, red and white Queens and Jacks

all in a house of cards

awaiting the wind of Kismet to shape their destiny.

Sitting amongst acquaintances

I spotted an individual that

On appearances alone

Seemed so remarkable as to cause my pulse to quicken

Virile was the first and only attribute

upon which I could bestow this tempest.

All others, though the stuffs of impassioned fantasy,

came to mind and were the thickeners

to the sensuous stews brewing therein.

My mind gave birth to base and brute acts

which given the opportunity

brought no fear of diminished reality…if…

on no uncertain terms I knew the act would be rewarding…

just as I knew it would be subject to

costly punishment… guilt unfettered.

A few thoughts on lamented love and lustful passions…

a change comes over the one I watch when

they suspect know their efforts will be fruitful…

A glazed and compassion-less expression

crosses their face, like an aimless warrior’s haze

and I find I don’t know them anymore…

perhaps I never did…except for the fragmented image created in my mind

with smoke and music.

“Could any stronger emotion grow for such a face?”, I wonder

The person remains

fathomless.

But I suspect they have a countenance not for love but merely and thoroughly... lust.

When asked what I wanted, I replied

“I want more than anything to overcome my attraction to you and become your friend,”

Continuing in my thoughts…

“…for upon that at least one might reasonably depend.  As a fiend you would more easily be forgiven for not meeting my expectations, then as a lover, for spurned my passion would curdle.”

Duality set in

Evident in the divergent personalities doing battle through desires, morals and experience.

All elements playing a cutthroat no-holds-bond game of King of the Mountain…

The right, the power, to control my actions…

A high note crescendos and the smoke thickens

“Hit me again” I say…

The cards played…the ritual begins.   

Into the wind...

Into the wind
I'd like to sing your name...
to await the tickling breeze's caress
and feel the warm breath of the sun...
sultry and seducing.
All elements
answering on your behalf
on a lovely green day
when my thoughts
wander
across
You. 

And when
if in fevered bliss your name escapes my lips
I shudder in wakefulness
yearning your return.

Midnight Cuddle

Confession of Love

Causes inner confliction.

Sincerity and kindness

Causes love addition.

The need of something warm and familiar

To cling closely to

The need of a friendly face…

Thinking of You.

The Symbiotic Parasite

Feel me, heal me

Touch me, hear me

See me

Understand me

Know me

Trust me

Envelope me

Rumors of "Too Late"

You never told me you dreamed

of green meadows, blue skies

of home coming August joys

and what could have been…

We never shared heart filled moments

without some overhanging shadow

lurking in our minds

putting our hearts in separate bonds… shackled.

When fate saw fit to give us the keys

like children in the dark

we wandered in opposite directions.

Given light

we saw each other for the first time

strangers in love

with what had until now been left to the imagination.

We never went camping

or basked in the summer sun.

We never saw beauty together

and

We never danced…

Tantrum (2013 re-write)

Wither to your touch

repulsed by your stare

your enticing deformities afflict 

nightmarish images in my mind...

every moment spent together

spent in false adoration and herculean tolerance .

I loath you!

Through my lids

these hateful words said....

else I be betrayed.

Wither to your tough
repulsed by your stare
your deformities afflict nightmarish images in my mind...
every moment spent together
spent in false adoration of your pitious state.
I loath you!

Through my lids
these hateful words said....
else I be betrayed.

Expectation... (1997)

Expectation!


Horrible monster
deformed dream defiler...
disables enjoyment and casts a murky shadow
across circumstances
otherwise
tolerable.....
at best.

Inner Dialogue (2013 re-write of "A Shy Seducer")

Can I repeat during the day

that which should be whispered in the comfort of darkness?

Fondle you with velvet words;

dare I think on you at night

when sheer clouds cover the moon 

and stars flicker SOS?

Or should I attempt to point out the obvious

That which could be said in a glance?

Simply

yes

now. 

A Shy Seducer
Can I repeat during the day

that which should be whispered at night?

Fondle you with velvet words…

Dare I think on you at night

When sheer clouds cover the moon and stars flicker SOS?

Or should I attempt to point out the obvious

That which should be said in a breath?

The Rite of Corruption (2013 re-write of "Corruption)

Where once convictions stood as armor

and shield from temptation,

today a voluntary and vulnerable supplicant

implored subjugation! 

Rejoicing in the freedom from accountability,

begging her own destruction, 

she took delight in her corruption,

eroded and Rose.

Today, for good or ill, Ishtar has risen

let paramours tremble! 

Corruption
Where once I stood strong

using my convictions as a shroud

protecting me from temptation…

Today

I am

Freed.

For good or ill

I lay myself down

in this

Vulnerable state

Begging my own

Destruction

And taking delight

in My own Corruption.

Oh... Pretty One (2013 re-write)

Cock of the Roost

You strut around like a bedazzled peacock

Witticisms and feathers tossed about like confetti...

A ticker-tape parade…theme music even….

all in an unfounded effort to make them want You.

Lured, perhaps by the bright colors, 

that genetic part which remains primal

invariably responds to your dance 

and more are lead to psychic slaughter…

What species of animal are you?

Do you devour your mates, leaving only haunted shells behind...

animatronics living testaments to your great prowess

Or

Do you lock them away…. 

A fleshy menagerie, 

Broken toys in an under-lit shadowbox,

forgotten and dated suits in a misplaced closet, awaiting your whimsical attentions

while like a child you look for your next new toy

forgetting… one day you’ll be too old to play… and then what?

You strut around like a peacock

Witticisms and feathers tossed about like confetti...

A ticker-tape parade…

all in an unfounded effort to make me want You.

Lured perhaps by the bright colors,

That genetic part which remains primal

Involuntarily responds to your dance.

What species of animal are you?

Do you devour your mate, leaving their shallow shell behind...

Left as a reminder to those that sadistically seek your embrace?

Or

Do you lock them away…. mesmerized by your charm…

A fleshy menagerie awaiting your whimsical attentions?

Stung… (2013 re-write of The First Time...)

Sitting here

Heart pounding

Anxiety overwhelms senses

hands shaking

smiling reassuringly

while every muscle

Feels tight… taunt

Ready for flight

My lips a meal

as shallow breath escapes me

and strangely uncomfortable

yet all too familiar energies courses 

through me

One a pining malcontent

Another sloven and base…

I am stilled

and overpowered…

The First Time
Sitting here

Heart pounding

Anxiety predominates most senses

Hands shaking

Smiling reassuringly

while every muscle feels tight & taunt

I feed on my lips

as shallow breath escapes me..

and strangely uncomfortable

yet now, all too familiar Energies

Courses through

Me…

one a pining malcontent

another savage …

I am stilled and overpowered.

Master...

A self proclaimed master,

your talents do not go unnoticed.

Fallacious passion aspires a willing captive

and...

despite insinuated debauchery, I

dreamily and knowingly surrender to your skillful seduction 

while thinking...

"What an entrepreneur you could be

if success were lured as complacently!?"

Your failure to credit the cognizance behind my molten gaze

gives birth to the persuasive believe that in truth

you are the victim

of your own desires

& I

merely an accidental reaper....

but a rosy glow and disquieted composure

belie this enigmatic theory.

The Test (Aids) (2013 re-write)

The Test (Aids)

Here on this index finger,

this funny little prick

stand judge and jury;

adjourned to decide the caliber of your fate.

Pricked muted witness tell naught but hints tauntingly 

toward purposeful intent.

Can your body’s temperament belie health; 

for that matter exaggerate ill?

Body and Mind joined in reluctant alliance

communicate no collective understanding

except to inform that fear betrays Karmic acceptance. 

Here on this index finger...

this funny little prick

Stands

Evidence of the judge & jury

adjourned to decide the caliber of your future.

Muted witnesses

tell naught but for some

acknowledged, direct and purposeful intent.

Can my body’s temperament belie health,

for that matter exaggerate ill?

Body

and

Mind…

Segregated

in this simple alliance

communicate no collective understanding

except to sense that

Fear betrays trust in God..

While certainty begs a spiteful end.