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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“Camouflage is a game we all like to play, but our secrets are as surely revealed by what we want to seem to be as by what we want to conceal.” – Russell Lynes  

darkjinn

Cloaks, shields, cover for you.

Duck, run, defense for you.

Leaves they blend with your skin

Camouflage from within.

Scent not your own,

Voice unknown.

Scant you appear.

Leaning away in fear.

Shadows, darkness to confuse

Who can know you, when hiding is your muse?

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

011811 

Down the Rabbit Hole

Written by the Muse in memory of her beloved man, Barry,  who I met through his group, The Posse’s Lair, on Facebook,

How far down does the rabbit hole go?

You always wanted to know.
Shall I follow you there?
Are you clearing a path as you
Have cleared paths for me before?

Will you wait for me?
You know my impatience.
I was your shadow, turn around
And I was always there.
I looked up
And you were always there.

We were inseparable, compatible,
One body sprung from the other.
It’s a painful separation.

How far down does the rabbit hole go?
I peer inside, it’s dark, and I call out
Only to hear my own voice returning to me,
“Where are you? Can you hear me?”

I’m afraid of the dark.
Will I find brier and root
Blocking my way to you,
My compass star,
Who gave me reason to love,
To laugh, to sing?
Now only this echo is my guide,
Or is it your voice
Calling back to me?
I never could tell the difference..
And that brings me some comfort.

How far down does the rabbit hole go?
You always wanted to know.

Muse

We‘ll be there soon Barry, Viva La Revolution!

 

Ode to My Flame – An exposition of my muse

“O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest 
heaven of invention.“ –  William Shakespeare

“In the early part of my life I carried the flame for fiery women: 
perky women who were not dumb.”– Debra Winger

 

To the casual eye, a fire is a fire. There is much more to the flame, than what is taken for granted. My flame lives, breathing a jealous breath. It reaches out for more in hungry, at times violent, lustful hunts. My flame can be patient, lying dormant in embers of anticipation. It’s tongues lap gently at the air, crackles of passion beginning, growing with intensity, the climax a promise if given more; the afterglow a certainty, soft colors showing the lovers dance of death. Creating as it rolls and frolics, anything exposed to its playful antics will be changed. Sweet gentle animal, raging storm, my flame inspires awe and reverence. From ages beyond and before, men will court you. I use you sweet flame, and likewise you use me. Perpetuating my affair, I sit for hours watching you dance. A lustful patron, I eagerly throw you my supply to see you sway. Though my offering is consumable, without a care you eagerly consume my soul. You‘re always faithful to perform, licking seductively, swaying, teasing. Spreading your heat, I feel your glow against me as I come close. My inspiring muse to create all, you bring romance to my cold nights and warm ambiance to chilled emotion. My flame, let me hold you, spinning around with joy, shedding your tears of laughter, sparks that disappear within seconds. Without you, I perish for want of nurture. You are my sustenance for long days; my lover flame, satiate me with your enduring comfort; you are my fire, you are my flame, you are my woman.

Ode to My Flame – An exposition of my muse

“O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest 
heaven of invention.“ –  William Shakespeare

“In the early part of my life I carried the flame for fiery women: 
perky women who were not dumb.”– Debra Winger

 

To the casual eye, a fire is a fire. There is much more to the flame, than what is taken for granted. My flame lives, breathing a jealous breath. It reaches out for more in hungry, at times violent, lustful hunts. My flame can be patient, lying dormant in embers of anticipation. It’s tongues lap gently at the air, crackles of passion beginning, growing with intensity, the climax a promise if given more; the afterglow a certainty, soft colors showing the lovers dance of death. Creating as it rolls and frolics, anything exposed to its playful antics will be changed. Sweet gentle animal, raging storm, my flame inspires awe and reverence. From ages beyond and before, men will court you. I use you sweet flame, and likewise you use me. Perpetuating my affair, I sit for hours watching you dance. A lustful patron, I eagerly throw you my supply to see you sway. Though my offering is consumable, without a care you eagerly consume my soul. You‘re always faithful to perform, licking seductively, swaying, teasing. Spreading your heat, I feel your glow against me as I come close. My inspiring muse to create all, you bring romance to my cold nights and warm ambiance to chilled emotion. My flame, let me hold you, spinning around with joy, shedding your tears of laughter, sparks that disappear within seconds. Without you, I perish for want of nurture. You are my sustenance for long days; my lover flame, satiate me with your enduring comfort; you are my fire, you are my flame, you are my woman.