The Hermit Chronicles: Aimless

“The true adventurer goes forth aimless and uncalculating to meet 

and greet unknown fate.“

– O. Henry

chymecindy

In the early dawn, the dark and the bright birth

My silver cage flew open, and I wandered,

Aimless

 

In the cool of the morning, the placenta of night

My foundling feet find rhythm, and I wandered,

Aimless

 

In the heat of noon, the umbilical light a rage

My downy wings grow furious, and I wandered,

Aimless

 

In the dying day, the flower of life now closing

My infant dreams lay in grasses, and I wandered,

Aimless

Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Cup of Conversation
 Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Fallen Trees
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Aimless 
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Hounds  
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Unbelonging 

 

Also published in Broowaha Magazine 

 032312

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Lost

“If you feel lost, disappointed, hesitant, or weak, return to yourself, to who you are, here and now and when you get there, you will discover yourself, like a lotus flower in full bloom, even in a muddy pond, beautiful and strong.”
― Masaru Emoto, Secret Life of Water   

 

                                Ships wreck

Walking through the question marks
Where will I go in this dark?
With the light dimming behind
How will I go being blind?
Screaming in my head, holding the candle near
Where will I go from here?
The path is crooked with cliffs along the way
Fear says never to go but only to stay

When there’s no sight from lack of light there remains no assurance in the steps. My soul’s being torn between ravenous beasts manifested by my torment. Faith, will you save me now? Will you come on the white horse of sanity and redeem my soul? These wasps follow me, stinging me where ever I go. I can hear the buzz of their wings while I sleep. There’s no healing from the swelling injections filled with the puss of their rape. What parts of me have died or are dying? Why can’t I tell? I know that bricks are missing in my wall and deleterious eyes stare at me from the holes. With all of this hell raging in and around me, I call out, as we all do in the foxholes of life, “GOD HELP ME”! He will, but how, it escapes me, but when, it eludes me, and in this moment I hang to what I know from His dealings with me in the past. I know He’ll help me, I know He’ll come, I know I’ll survive and be stronger yet for the next wave of human devils and demon thoughts.

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 

You Are Not – A poet’s revenge against the Cliché –

“My life as well as my writing are guided by creed in lieu of clichés” ― Carl Henegan

 

progguy1

 

You’re not like every cliché
repeated often till meaning dies

You’re like brilliant truth, 
revealing my weakness for your body

You’re not like a rose whose fragrance and beauty
are but an honorable mention

You’re like the smell of a thousand pines 
calling and seducing me to lay in your arms

You’re not like an angel whose wings
carried you to me from afar

You’re like mischievous devils 
whose temptations take me from reality to fantasy

You’re not like a song,
sung endlessly while children clap their hands

You’re like the sound of waves, 
crashing your sexuality over my beaches

You’re not like a gentle swan,
perfect beauty so many times compared

You’re like violent lightning, 
striking the lies of men and melting my soul to yours

You’re not like the ordinary,
the common seen on every poet’s page

You’re like the grandeur of space, 
possessing the beginning and ending of my life

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

02142012 

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

Stinger – Fighting doubt

“The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser men so full of doubts.” – Bertrand Russell

Tickle in my brain, flying around in there
Nettle from the wings, wings without air.

Brother to it’s flight, a needle of doubt

The sting will be sure, no way out.

I flinch from the pain, it pierces my defense

Pushing without mercy, sparing no expense

I feel the poison rush, numbing as it goes

Fiercely it corrupts, putting hope in death throes

I shake myself aware, knowing I won’t let go

To pull this ugly thing out, to stop the ebbing flow

Strength from the deep, I brace once more for pain

Doubt resurrects, it’ll keep coming back again.

Also published in Wingposse, September 2012 

02212011

Released – Finding a way beyond inhibition

“The ultimate is finding a place where you have no inhibitions, nothing to hide, where you can learn with one another.” – Jennifer Aniston 

 

iamcathryn

I’ll guide you through your inhibitions

To secret places beyond skin

Slaying your fears and laying them at rest

Released to abandon within

Drop your fetters they’re unable to keep you

Rising on heated drafts of sense

Plunging deep beneath waterfalls of escape

Servants of winged concupiscence

All your life woman, longing to aimlessly run

A doe in grasses frolicking without censor

Jumping over pillows of lush mossy wood

Finding safety in my fertile pasture

Also published in Broowaha Magazine

02072012

The Fall Of Leave

“pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly, and if left unresolved you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place.” –Wm. Paul Young, The Shack

ourholyprincesszelda

Stepping over the edge, I fall gentle but fast

Everything a blur, except the ride now past

I struggle on clipped wings of desire

Feathers floating in a pinion fire

Calls they echo, off cliffs of saddened

Still I fall, my wings abandoned

A dream condemned only in aviary free

Wounded wings of fate in the fall of leave

01252012

 Also published in Broowaha

Love’s Mortal Wound

“He sees death in the prostitutes who have witnessed the death of honor, and daily multiply the death of love, who bleed away their own lives 50 times a day beneath the relentless stabbings of countless conjugations” – Ed McBain

Our love has suffered a mortal wound

Feeling your name pulled from my chest

Stumbling thoughts, its you I kiss

Waiting for the next heartbeat

Feeling it deep in my bowels

nothing like it in the world

earth shaking my heart unfurls

Cant seem to find the easy forgiveness

Its costing me, running like a blood stream

I wait for you, like a passing cloud with no rain

Promises left unfilled, I break for you,

loving the killing of my soul

Inescapable vines, my love

bears a mortal wound

Distant hopes like mirages,

disappear in the change of your light

Promises like the morning fog, quickly gone in the light of truth

Strange though the pleasure you bring on the wings of pain

Surreal your gentle touch on the stroke of punishment

I sway under your movement, you never break your stare

I ran once but found you everywhere

I can’t help but feel the passion 
that gave love a mortal wound

Also published in Broowaha

09072011 

Love’s Mortal Wound

“He sees death in the prostitutes who have witnessed the death of honor, and daily multiply the death of love, who bleed away their own lives 50 times a day beneath the relentless stabbings of countless conjugations” – Ed McBain

Our love has suffered a mortal wound

Feeling your name pulled from my chest

Stumbling thoughts, its you I kiss

Waiting for the next heartbeat

Feeling it deep in my bowels

nothing like it in the world

earth shaking my heart unfurls

Cant seem to find the easy forgiveness

Its costing me, running like a blood stream

I wait for you, like a passing cloud with no rain

Promises left unfilled, I break for you,

loving the killing of my soul

Inescapable vines, my love

bears a mortal wound

Distant hopes like mirages,

disappear in the change of your light

Promises like the morning fog, quickly gone in the light of truth

Strange though the pleasure you bring on the wings of pain

Surreal your gentle touch on the stroke of punishment

I sway under your movement, you never break your stare

I ran once but found you everywhere

I can’t help but feel the passion 
that gave love a mortal wound

Also published in Broowaha

09072011