Princess of the Night

“Are you a princess?” I said. 
She replied, “I’m much more than a princess, 
but you don’t have a name for it yet here on earth. ”
themurdershewore
The wind took her hair, black and flowing, tossing and spinning it in the late evening breeze like a child with a favorite toy. With the ambiance of crashing waves, the night took on the deep color of a precious jewel, as each facet of the raw and innocent exterior of a man and woman were cut away to reveal the hidden colors of love. She had the regal features of an Indian princess, with a curious mischief and passion sparkling in her eyes, and a gentle voice that cut through my defenses, whispering my name with subtle beguilement. Possess me my native flower, let me breath your essence deep into my waiting abyss. In the giving there was as much pleasure as in the receiving, never before had I lunged so completely into the unknown. With her gentle touch guiding me through corridors of pleasure, I knew this flight of my soul could take me through the nether worlds of ethereal desire and effervescent delight. I only stopped at one point to ask myself, “do you want to love her?”. I felt the challenge to leave the pains and brokenness of the past to fly with her. With one decision, the natural way became a supernatural journey that would leave me wounded but happy with my sacrifice and let me spend the rest of my days listening for her siren song calling my name.
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Running On Empty

“Work hard for what you want because it won’t come to you without a fight. You have to be strong and courageous and know that you can do anything you put your mind to. If somebody puts you down or criticizes you, just keep on believing in yourself and turn it into something positive.” – Leah LaBelle

Running On Empty
fadedmapdots

 

Days pass and years go by, then I realize, I’m getting older. This isn’t a brilliant discovery but as I age, the days seem to whisper louder about my mortality and the lack of energy to do what I normally could do is most evident. If I can sense physical fatigue, what about mental fatigue? I struggle with severe mental issues (peruse my blog and you’ll see it plainly) which result in the weird trait of arguing with people who aren’t there. Not arguing with a vision, but rehearsing in my mind what was said and what I should or shouldn’t have said. I spend an hour or so cussing people out and yelling at them when they have long left the building. In the same way, I’ll rehearse an embarrassing or shameful moment over and over in my head years after the fact. These all drain away mental and emotional energy, the ability to take of the here and now. There is a finite amount of emotion and mental convolutions that I’m able to bear. After my resources are exhausted, depression rushes in to fill the void. An apathy and usually a self destructive habit looms in the setting sun of my mind and pulls me out of the thoughts and into another hellish position.

The answer? I stop when I find myself talking to someone who isn’t there, or for that matter, who doesn’t care what I think. I stop thinking about the embarrassing moments and faux pas that crowd my mind. Then I take my antidote and think about the something that doesn’t drain me, but encourages and fills me with hope, things that are wise and spiritual. Not necessarily all holy and Jesus things, but mainly wisdom and advice I’ve gleaned from searching for escapes from the insane asylum in my head. For instance, there are places and I’ll paraphrase, in the bible where God has said, “don’t be afraid of their faces or what they say, and I’ll be with you.” Instead of thinking about an insult said to me, or about how I really screwed up this or that, I think about how my Big Daddy (my affectionate term for God) is going to help me through this and give me a decent life. That’s how I’m learning to walk instead of crawl out of anguish. Peace my friends, it’ll work out for you, don’t stop trying, don’t stop believing.

Missing – It lives in me

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter how much, how often, or how closely you keep an eye on things because you can’t control it. Sometimes things and people just go. Just like that.” – Cecelia Ahern
“Waiting here for you.
A long, long time for you.
Through the night,
‘Till the morning,
‘Till the dawn of a new day
For you, to come, to me”
Sylvia Doyle
 
Missing, it has personality, a heartbeat, it lives in me. With hope it builds up, then crashes down in sharp shards that rip across my mind; holding my chest I vainly try to keep in my soul that which is flowing freely through my fingers with no respite. The distance, so hard, the missing so heavy. No fuel for the fires of comfort in this moment, aching to hold you again. No way to make time hurry, it pursues me mercilessly, as I spend my days running one step ahead of the ache. When I stop, it collides with my soul, running through it with full force, leaving the hollow echo of you. Your alive, not dead, your gone, but your still here. There’s no resolution when love is taken by force and held away against my will.

01262012

Albatross

“There is love of course. And then there’s life, its enemy.” Jean Anouilh

albatross

Fingers brush through your hair 
your leaving me there,
Floating on my ocean dream.
Feet run to your kiss, I say farewell to bliss, 
Crashing along the windy cliff.
Eyes transfixed on your stare,
of you I must beware, 
Chasing me on the rocky edge.
Mind searching for a hint,
your affection leaves no imprint, 
Leaping off to fall free.
An albatross on a long flight,
a blind journey with no insight, 
Asking “Where will I land?”

Also published in Broowaha 

Also published in Wingposse, June 2012 

12202011 

Imperfect

“I realize the imperfections in this composition, and I left it so because we’re all imperfect and need to accept the message of who we are and not what they say we are.”

I wish I were clay
then I could change myself
everyday

Today I should be this and
tomorrow I should be that
and for the moment
society says I’m fat

But not so long ago and
in other royal cultures so
this was a good to go

But merely because times
have changed and lenses
have different colors

I’m resigned to serving
like slaves in chains
I’ll be your skinny mistress

I am whatever you say I am (Eminem)
and that, by the whims of
a psychotic society

And even in writing if I forget
to dot an I or a comma I relent
of that you’ll never forget

I’ll be forever judged and that
it’s a fact of this life
YOU WILL NEVER BE ACCEPTED

Except by those who understand
that hats turned back and
hats turned to the side
are all a part
of the same ride

Darling

“The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby 
fresh-mind-fresh-day
Never was a gentle and quiet word
spoken but so clearly heard
Innocent as the new day
echoing across a souls pain
Whispering she is vulnerable
that was the angelic guise so
Eloquently draped with a voice
surrendering I had no choice
Her tender call seducing me
in a moment she had all I’d be
It made me feel amazingly alive
She the moon and I the tide
Even now in this dreary day
Tenderly I can hear her say
Darling, Darling

A Death Called Dove

“What a short time I had been given to experience love. I felt as my life had only recently begun and now it would surely end at sunrise.”
Meredith Taylor
sweetesttootsieroll
Found then a little dove cowering in the birth of new
A blade came near and scant to miss
only a hairs breath relinquishing bliss
Flying before her time with wind both a friend and foe
Thinking to see, her wings grow tired
Blind fear rushes never more inspired
A shy grasp at what becomes a mysterious fateful lore
Trying but giving away the hidden life
Reduced to nothing and shut in by strife
Again the hungry clock stood its watch over gentle dove
Only to alight were she would never to fly
Wings fail to carry her to comforting sky
Talented feathery quills of reaching passion stoned to silence
Will giving her gifts to the clouds that call
Only create little pieces in the memory of all
Just dreams of doves laying torn in dawns fading embrace
O fragile dove you’ll ne’er see forever pain

Walking in silence ’cause your wings are maimed

Also published in Broowaha Citizen’s Magazine

Do Unto Others

socola

Relationships are a struggle. I’m dating someone who has money, a career, and a future, and that’s important to a relationship. However, the another woman excites me physically, sex is amazing; and yet with another, I find that I’m in “love”, the feelings are hot and deep. All three things are necessary in a relationship: money, sex, and love, why can’t I have all three? Recalling the parable that says “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3), a flash of understanding enlightened my disillusionment. To obey this lesson, I take the measure I expect of my mate and use it to judge myself. How do I rate in these three areas? By disciplining myself and excelling in each of these categories, I’ll draw a mate who is doing likewise. Like building a bird house to attract a certain species, my example will likely attract mates doing the same. Practicing this wisdom, I laid down my magnifying glass I used to criticize my potential suitors and I looked in the mirror at the inequities in my life. By addressing my issues, I hope to one day meet another who’s doing likewise or perhaps to see clearer, that the one close to me, may already be the perfect match.

01292012
Also published in Life As A Human Magazine

 

Hooked

 “Assure a man that he has a soul and then frighten him with old wives’ tales as to what is to become of him afterward, and you have hooked a fish, a mental slave.”
– Theodore Dreiser

The following is a poem from an exceptionally talented new friend, Arne Tornek. Enjoy.



 
fantasygoth
The hook slicks in.
How easily she snags.
How tightly she tugs.
 
She knows no surrender.
Long in exile, she returns,
To lead you to forgotten rooms.
 
In a careless moment
She sucks the tongue from your mouth.
Coils it round your demon need,
Slips it back behind your lips.
 
You swallow her hard.
Scornfully, she sniggers at you.
Knows that you can’t do without her,
In spite of your painstaking
Hopeless attempts.
 
She washes over your mind like an old friend,
With the comforting allure of a new lover.
And she’s back with her pedicure
In the ring of your desires;
Your powerless soul at prayer
Under the Gothic arch of her painted foot.

01312012