it was quick easy clean and graceful dreams today for me are sharp
wires on the way over hard horizon the heart is tossed away there are some music notes along side like comets
mocking heart in her exile away from him
upon the crossing of that place heart’s lost hind sight again with only tear salted picture frames of his hand no longer holding her
i once found him looking into my eyes holding my hands
he moved me to live to love to laugh
while the endless hoping
that my days will die fast
fuel the tomorrows that cast me into a grinding trap
i really wish i wouldn’t have to leave and pace back and forth between cold frontiers looking into darkness
the void is left
as limbo and i walk hand in hand exhausted
hail to R Banks for conceptualizing and making this offering and picture possible love you so much
why so tough kid cry or something
i’m ok man don’t trip
your friend overdosed in the hall by the curtained room
are you telling her folks or who
we called your dad isn’t he coming
no he said
do you want to go to the hospital your nose is bleeding
it does that when i hurt
oh did you fall down
no i hurt for my friend growing up even my toys were mechanical
he ran fast breath short dry throat up the hill where she had said she would love him forever when he got there and searched the air he found no mystic moon he knelt under the weight of his sorrow
the clock in my mind
doesn’t really tick tock
it’s more of a low cruel scalding grind
like a rusty cog from an old Slavic car
i lay on my mattress the linen pulled tight big fluffy pillows to hold in my thoughts
the colors are sanskrit oozing in sunburst lotus in buds
every so often when my body shuts down
the beat of my arteries scats like old Calloway
from a past filled with poisons textured with scars
then the grinding is noticed by a runaway synapse and my eyes they go shut
the cat’s by my footstool and the dog’s by my side
yet it is lonely the spirit is gone
she hides in the closet
where her wings were cut off
diagnosis haven across the bookshelf
eating disorders sadness depression societal crud
the plant upon the dresser silver and wide reminds me of Warhol and incense and wine
then the phone pings and i go rub my eyes
i hear that new song sent from afar
i wonder about mother Hubbard and the Kennedys the story of pauper clowning the kings
so i get up to empty the voids in my throat
i walk to the kitchen and touch a tea pot then i look out the window and think of your mouth the back of your head
do i look for what’s final or do i trudge back to bed
my eyes deep into the looking glass they go
the crevice on my throat regulates my breath so slow
bones my genetic frame from the Danube it came
a girl with a mind of her own but her thoughts are filled with white carnations and light pink madness
stuffed into a blue and gold Chinese vase they go
ivory exquisite bones of beasts and mastodons fixed into the old red velvet settee
ivory silks drape my milky skin past my finger tips dipped in obsidian tears
the bench that holds my weight a fancy rosewood filigreed trophy
my deeply regretful eyes slide over to the compromised canopy bed made with hate and lies
there where on some deceitful night opened legged and mouth shut tight
i am supposed to worship you
more is endless breath is tight
nervous docile night
let’s walk into the light
we forever have been everything
we are daughters of the fight
*thank you Christine at braveandrecklessblog and HereticsLoversandMadmen for posting this piece first for the I Am More Than Breath and Bone prompt
rest slips from
me not today she
said there is still work to be
done internally dive deep and see
sweet surrender colored weak continues to elude you the piece of eternity sliced for you is not yet served
sometimes my convictions are
not enough to soothe
the pain of the
weight of life so
i go into my
closet dig in my
cardboard box where i
keep the rosary i
found in the mud
behind one of the
homes i grew up
triste Celedonia
alma de ave
flor que deslumbra al sol
guardiana de tus dioses
tus remedios tu dolor
cuando llegaste a este mundo
tu alma marcada con cicatriz de estrellas
tener que dejar a tus valles ríos y montanas
tus lumbres tus plantas tus mañas
toda la magia heredara no te la puedes llevar
al cruzar al este mundo mecánico y vacio
todos tus retoños siguieron en fila
menos el más tierno bello y delicado
con el tiempo se marchito
los venenos extranjeros no aguanto
promesas antiguas rotas en ira
de que sería la más bella flor
en el altar de la diosa
Celedonia no hay caso en continuar
de regar el pequeño retoño con tus lagrimas
se fue no está ni hoy ni siempre
has tu vida con tus otros retoños
pero en tu alma herida
mantén en asilo al retoño perdido
celedonia triste
alma de pássaro
flor que ofusca o sol
guardião dos seus deuses
seus remédios
sua dor
quando você veio para este mundo
sua alma marcada com cicatriz estrela
tem que deixar seus vales rios e montanhas
suas luzes suas plantas suas truques
toda a magia de herança que você não pode levar
ao atravessar este mundo mecânico e vazio
todos os seus otários permaneceram alinhados
menos o mais terno lindo e delicado
eventualmente definhado venenos estrangeiros eu não suporto
velhas promessas quebradas em raiva
Essa seria a flor mais bonita no altar da deusa
Celedonia não há nenhum caso em continuar
regar a pequena prole com suas lágrimas
ele deixou não é nem hoje nem sempre
faça sua vida com seus outros filhos
mas na sua alma ferida
manter o broto perdido no asilo
sad Celedonia
bird soul
flower that dazzles the sun
guardian of your gods
your remedies your pain
when you came to this world
your soul marked with star tissue
you had to leave your valleys rivers and mountains
your lights your plants your tricks
all the inherited magic you can’t take when crossing
into this mechanical and empty world
all your saplings remained in line
least the most tender beautiful and delicate one
eventually it withered
it couldn’t stand those foreign poisons
old promises broken in anger
that she would be the most beautiful flower on the goddess altar
Celedonia there is no case
in continuing to water the little offspring with your tears
he left and won’t return neither today nor always
make your life with your other offspring
but in your wounded soul
keep the lost sapling in asylum
words less spoken 