Tag: fire

Back To Back

“You may not remember the time you let me go first.
Or the time you dropped back to tell me it wasn’t that far to go.
Or the time you waited at the crossroads for me to catch up.
You may not remember any of those, but I do and this is what I have to say to you:

Today, no matter what it takes,
we ride home together.”
― Brian Andreas, Traveling Light: Stories & Drawings for a Quiet Mind

 

weheartit
Back to back that’s how we started,
fighting the whole world, we never parted.
Then came new life, shafts in the quiver.
We fired them off, our crops never withered.
Along came the wolf, death he swore.
He limped and lied to get through the door.
He consumed you with his intellectual abandon,
my back now unguarded, my heart saddened.
I tried for months to retake the hallowed ground,
but you were too far gone, never to be found.
Lost and spinning, exposing my nakedness,
I struggled grimacing, my life hard pressed
Then I saw her, evil disguised as purity.
Face of an angel, a heart that wasn’t free.
I came to her with my intentions pure,
she cast one glance, it was over for sure
All the passion I wished you to use,
now you found it, she was your muse
I drove on, looking at you secretly,
asking me to stay, your nakedness I see
To late, like fire spreading on water,
she flowed freely, around all your barter
Driving on into my own peril,
she would slay me with just one arrow
Entranced by her wiles, I followed her to hell,
but my back not guarded, I swiftly fell.
Barely I survived, held under the water of pain,
my lungs bursting to breath love again
Fire scorched and burned through all my nerves,
it never went out, smoldering in the curves
Struggling to gain ground, to get back to back again,
Back to back one day, I long for my friend.

Also published in Broowaha
08072010
 
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The Separation of Friends

“A perverse man spreads strife, And a slanderer 
separates intimate friends.”  – Proverbs 16:28

“It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them.”  – Confucius

My mind’s intrigued with fickle people concerned only with the direction of the winds of gossip. They blow this way and that, regardless of the benefit given by myself. I’m wary of this crowd, of the hearty followers, of the “humble” acquaintances in my life, for those by my side in friendship today are at my throat, without hesitation, tomorrow. All that’s required for this shift from friend to foe is discomfort in their lives. Whether financial, physical, or social unrest, it gives them impetus to turn the trust into a sword and cut without mercy. “He deserves it because….” – this is the mantra that sears their conscience.

They’re masters in this game, the game of turning the opinions of those around me to their benefit. It’s no disgrace this art of war, but it bears repeating that those closest to me, those I help the most, will grow to hate me, if for no other reason than I have and they have not. Despising that they asked for my help, or owe me something, or just hate that I excel in some way, they desire to quench their envy and jealousy by disposing the one to whom they are so envious or indebted. These master players will be burned by their own hand and it won’t be long after starting many fires that they’ll make a mistake and corner themselves with the flames. As for me, I learn to encourage myself, and with this one thing I’ll rise above the petty crowd – after all the hate shown towards me, I’ll still be good to people and serve my friends and leaders with undying loyalty.

09262012

Alone –

 “Imaginary lovers
Never turn you down
When all the others turn you away
They’re around
It’s my private pleasure
Midnight fantasy
Someone to share my
Wildest dreams with me” 

 

DreamWind

I’d do anything to keep from being alone, pay any price, be used to the “nth” degree and never say a word. Being used is better than being alone but it stings knowing the object of my affection will hurt me, maim my spirit, and destroy my forward progress. Still, I follow hard after her, giving all to maintain that relationship and avoid the terrors of being alone. What compromises have I willing conceded to? What violations of my self-esteem and personal space have I allowed for unrequited affection? What tortures has my heart been through, my body feeling the wretch of emotions that sets my nerves on fire? Being addicted, not to a substance, but to a world of egocentric affection that I’ve created by taking the object of my affection and embellishing her to a fantastic degree. I should know better, I do know better. The voices of friends and family, concerned that I am “being used”, try to slap me awake. Ignoring their advice, pushing away the voice of truth, I continue to live a world that only I see. Go away you bearers of truth, you wreckers of dreams, this is my world, I will not see it in your light! I take my script and apply it haphazardly, patching up the holes in the dike containing my empty dreams. Eagerly lapping up my lack of self-control and willful delusion, the protagonist in my play continues to feed my world of facades with empty compliments, cool affections, and eyes empty of love.  One day I’ll wake up and grab hold of myself, one day I’ll acknowledge this self-imposed hell, one day…but for now, I look at her and imagine how she loves me.

Also published in Broowaha

012112

Estranged –

“The distant soul can shake the distant friend’s soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.” ― John Masefield

bibliophilebunny
  bibliophilebunny
Stares into the fires of what used to be
Longing for a shore on this endless sea

Then and still she rejects me

Glares into the mirror of what is to see
Glancing back just the bare image of me

Then and still she blames me

Pairs thrown into storms of life do believe
Splitting again to separate entities

Then and still she’s a part of me

First published in Opinions Of Eye

Endless Sky – An Intimate Encounter –

“I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.” – Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat 
shemakesdirty-wordssoundpretty
I lit the coals with yearning, 
deeper than times sand.
I stoke them with nature’s trinkets
Mischievous I take yourhand.
Tender violence my guide
Bringing you to passions door
The flames burn hot and long
We consummate the lore 
Fighting to feel not wanting to resist
Together in universal rhythm we tread 
Heat of friction driving your desire
Caught in throes, an endless sky our bed 
Tied with bonds of forbidden
Bringing creation to savor the burst,
I find you my sweet fragrance
Satiated with passions thirst.  
Scarlet silk creates your hidden visage
Tide of lust breaking ground in blurs
Flamed tongues burn hot and long
Embracing you a yearning stirs 
Air controlled by a strangled grip
Crashing through passions door
Leaving you shaking in pleasure
Gliding on weakened wings we soar
Pain creates a direction to edges new
When again on those heights we tread 
Let the torrid heat drive our desire high
Caught in throes, an endless sky our bed05152013

Related post: Holy Sanctum
Also published in Broowaha Magazine
First published in Opinionsofeye.com01262012 

The Great Adventure – Part 1 –

“The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” ― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild
youngdreamerlove
The trip began by assembling simple items that would benefit a grand adventure in the wild forests of unknown. A can opener, lighters, a couple of pocket knifes, cans of beans we surreptitiously obtained from mom’s cupboard, the obligatory camouflage jackets and pants, and of course a machetes to hack our way through the grass and brush. We made the mile trip to the wooded point right on the cliff above a shallow gulch. Pine trees formed a tidy circle around a clearing and their needles made a nice bed. The sound of wind blowing through these made an eerie sound, especially for boys like us at the ripe age of 14 and 15. Many long days were spent filled with exciting adventures into this government reserve, which by the way, we weren’t supposed to be in, which added to our sense of danger that all boys crave to some extent.
Climbing through the 8 foot chain link fence that surrounded it, we pushed our way through the tall grasses and crossed a couple of dirt roads worn with the convoys of jeeps, tanks, and supply trucks. The last obstacle we clambered across was a double row of razor wire that lined the fields. We knew all the paths and shortcuts here and had already squashed this down and laid branches over it to tip toe on. Finding things while we hiked was an awesome thrill. The biggest finds were items lost or left behind by the troops, MRE’s being the supreme score, followed by empty ammo bags that clipped on to belts, and shell casings, with which we filled our little bags and bringing a smile that only being incredibly stupid and getting away with it can bring to the little men we were.
Reaching the clearing, we built our rough lean-to and found sticks to build a fire. We didn’t understand that if you’re not supposed to be there, lighting a fire on the edge of cliff that overlooks much of the land around it, is not a good idea. But in our exuberance, we lit our little fire and boiled some water to add to a spaghetti MRE I found and heat the beans we stole from Mom. Night came soon and we settled in under our shelter and played with the fire, watching the sparks swirl and find their way up to the star filled sky. Our spot was lit up to the edge of clearing showing the trees and brush around us, beyond that it was pitch black and made the more so by gazing into the fire before we looked out toward the dark. The evening this far was uneventful and our stay in this forbidden zone an apparent success.
Suddenly, right behind our lean-to, a loud snap of branches shot through the night and right up our young spines. Hairs on end, we stumbled forward in a blind panic and grabbed the machete and large walking stick, hewn in boredom just moments before. Standing back to back, gazing at what we couldn’t see, our eyes struggled to make out any images, our ears keen to the slightest twitch of grass. Was it an animal? Or worse, the Military Police? The MP’s were more trouble but we out ran them several times because of our knowledge of the nook and crannies and subtle shortcuts and paths, but, the animals were a big problem. The paths we found were theirs and running wasn’t a good idea. We whispered back and forth having seconds to decide what to do and like most options presented to those caught, running like hell seemed to be the best way out. We sprung through the trees and bounced through the razor wire like an Olympic hurdler fueled by adrenalin and youthful agility. Hearing more snaps and bushes shaking supercharged our escape and made the dark obstacle course easy. Soon the mile was behind us and we dove through the fence finding our way home. We collapsed in excited jubilation with our hearts pounding out 200 beats a minute. The escape was pulled off without a hitch and our confidence grew to heights that can only be reached by imagination. This was a success, however there where things in life that wouldn’t be so easily overcome and these tests waited for us with hungry anticipation.
First published in Opinions Of Eye

Self Deceived –

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov  

*

khodnevis

Coming from nowhere, appearing within,
Came a thought born in weakness
It wore a disarming grin

Innocent at first, it seemed to be all true
I believed the thought as it was
There seemed nothing I could do

As in a wild fire, all the facts would burn
Self deception at its best
Makes it impossible to learn 

 

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

01152012

Glory Undone – A woman succumbs to vice –

“She’s not happy about the life she is living but to jump through the hoop would mean to succumb to death.” – Kit Williams
*
3d1f6-addiction1
I saw her give up and fall to addictions vice:
 
“Your legs splayed in graphic way
Wanting to leave this world, come and play
Scoring your hits underneath dark worlds
Flying, inhibition burned in pink pearl
Reaching to touch your body magnificent
I’m held at bay by your habit’s descent
Changed from a fondled object of desire
Picking at your curves that soft skin on fire
Tears they are my lover as you fade from sight
Pleasure was ours until you hid in your night”
– Nightfall, D.M.W. Sager
*
Glory is undone as the softness turns to a melted waste of surrender
 
Gone is the shine from the jewel of your womanhood
 
Shame clothes a golden soul tarnished by wantonness
 
Laying down your fight as your thoughts of peace fall with fear
 
What’s left now that you gave your glory to another?
 
Stained garments of unusual color adorn your nakedness
 
Dive into the murky river as it flows away
 
Perhaps your deeds will not settle on your life
*
Pressing back the past, recover your glory undone.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

First published in Opinions Of Eye.com

 02132012 

 

Beyond

“It is impossible to suffer without making someone else pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

twindle
“You’ve such kind eyes sir, full of sorrow not all your own.”
Thank you kindly, but you don’t see, all that rages beyond.
A slasher lives, who wants to burn and pillage, watching
those who are proud to suffer humiliation and pain, like
what they did to me and to my loves. My innocence
ravaged, I only want to burn, my slashing blades edge
finding their neck. To see their flesh bubble and burst,
their tongues swell with pain and heat, just a little
revenge on those who with violence reign and terrorize,
I’ll burn their Babylon with brimstone and hot black oil.
The trouble comes when, without expression on those,
someone will pay and perhaps not one who deserves it.
An unsuspecting soul, who in a fit of unlucky anger,
raises a fist to the slasher and the fury is unleashed.

Leaving – The Death of Love

“With my last breath, I’ll exhale my love for you. I hope it’s a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me.
” 
 

radikal

I gave love the last burst of my precious energy, 
hoping to revive her before she passed on to the light. 
No shock on earth could ever start her heart again, 
growing cold as stone before my eyes. 
The hardness creeps in like darkness at sunset, 
first intriguing and beautiful, but then, a cold wind 
blows from the darkness, night is coming. 
One last chance I gave love, I started a fire in her, 
using all the dead things I had in me as fuel. 
Nevertheless, she refused to breathe. 
Now I feel her life ebbing from my soul. 
Her presence evaporating from my heart. 
Left with the cracked parched earth of my soul, 
thirsty for wetness, she refuses to live. 
Have you ever felt someone leaving your soul?

Have you ever felt someone leaving your soul?
Also published in Broowaha