Poetry – Page 10 – Theater of Sorrows

Desert Soul

I can’t grasp my breath, can’t see its shadow
Unwrapped by a thousand gasped cuts, razor sharp
That have punctured the sun
I can’t feel my fire –
Inhale its spirit into my souls desert
Permeate my chiaroscuro and my greys with scent and color inbetween –
Pigment alchemy in this carved indigenous wasteland
Where is the water?
Where is the water?
Where is my thirst?
Where is your thirst?
I’ve lost my counsel; Spinning stars tilt the sky, leave me with convulsing eyes
You say I should seek the wisdom of your elders –
Feather and sage in your hands to send me on my way
I am stravaging your red road by moonstone –
Between thorny tumbleweeds, cacti spurs, mica shards
Amid iceberg caves with screaming visions
Dreams of twisted symbols that solicit extraction; Meanings in motion, poured
Dousing dust, rusted sockets, and dead roots
Stones turned reveal cliff notes
Braided vines to scale brail canyons littered with corpse histories –
Reach the inclines leading beneath tangerine cliff overhangs
Where messengers shape what speaks within each seasons almanac
And your eyes welcome me, urging my sight toward the promise surrounding me –
Bones restrung with succulent thread –
It’s sinewy, linen web glistening with knots of perpetuity…
And thus, an unfolding; A spewing cornucopia
Birthed into this dry, wretched, sun-cracked inertia
All of this mealy precipitation baked into my veins, like cracked pottery
Having been left in the chimera too long
Ah, but, firefly particles weave dandelion seeds in the thin-veined air
Delicate reminders that burst like ice crystals on the sun –
Or sunflower petals in your mischievous eyes
Pearlescent and balmy
And my riddles are diffused, take flight on the bohemian wings of gypsy moths
I breathe again my ancient secrets
I know each curve and pattern, each trace and continuum…
Rushing through me
I am nothing
And everything
My chamomile eyes flowering

Garden

When its time to exhale
Give up my last sweet, sad breath
Let my eyes swim in the comfort of hazel
As I greet my death
When its time to travel
Time to leave the sweetest lips that ever lied
Let me keep your scent, your voice, your touch, that angel face
As I say goodbye
Don’t gather all those clouds of woe you’ve always loved
Tend the garden; Coax the seeds to grow –
I’ll be watching, my favorite memory
Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony…
Please know that although we had our trials
Heartless moments of violent pain, and choking denial
Dancing in the living room to the music of our tears…
My favorite place was always with you here
In our dark, spongy cocoon; Fire wounds soothed beneath a pale, lavender moon
When its time for goodbye, don’t worry love, I forgive
We don’t need to explain to anyone why –
The dark, the scars, the pain was ours to live
Can you stay until my eyes fade?
Can you touch me until my skin grows cold?
Can you finally smile for all the memories?
Knowing that we will live on for eternity through poetic words that will be told
Don’t gather all those clouds of woe you’ve always loved
Tend the garden; Coax the seeds to grow –
I’ll be watching, my favorite memory
Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony
I’ll take that with me
Keep it with what was true
While I wait patiently –
While I wait for you
There are things some just can’t understand
Absinthe dreams, morbid petals and silver vines
Even after time is ground to sand
I’ll breathe your breath while you breathe mine
Pregnant moon-womb of despair –
Silky tears drip in our hair
But I’ll blow a kiss into the sky
That will meet your sweetness there
Please forgive me
That I won’t be with you
When it comes your time to travel as the blackbirds fly
But I’ll be searching for your angel face
With a lovers smile as you reach the sky
Until then, don’t gather all those clouds of woe you’ve always loved
Tend the garden; Coax the seeds to grow –
I’ll be watching, my favorite memory
Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony

Let the angels trumpet, sing their symphony

Angel Trumpet: Bell-shaped flower that has an intoxicating smell, but is deadly, belonging to the nightshade species, having poison in all of its parts.

Poet

I’ve been pacing in my shadow
I’ve been killing all my poems
Walking the words backward
In this valley of the bones
There’s no subtle way of leaving
Spongy walls of blue despair
Carve the feeling of your distance
Deep into this static air
I’ve been sensing my own murder
Since my grief is running mad
And it’s ripping up my memories
Like they’re just a current fad
How to shake all of this dust off
Is, in truth, anybodies guess
I’m all alone despite my own company –
In this existential mess
Tried to extricate my lack of meaning
Although I loathe this absurd need
To form words into some semblance of beauty
Some sense of fleeting dreams…
A kaleidoscope in motion
Yet my souls a wordless ocean
Time is sinking quickly into
Hopeless sands of my corrosion
I’ve been acting like a cliché
Stuck and drunk in my debris
Wallowing in rootlessness
Since my words have deserted me
An empty, undone poet
Spewing misery that turns this dim air blue
I’ve no more words, and thus no voice, no soul
Just this cup of bitter brew
Damn this vile inconvenience
That’s erupting in my chest
Until my mouth is spewing
Consonants of emptiness
All you specters, all you demons
Now you’re hiding under veils
You’re such narcissistic dwellers
When the pains not up to scale
Where’s my sweet, sad, sullen song?
Where’s my moody blue impression?
Even though my fingertips are bleeding –
I’ve no poetical confession!

At my desk, leather scent of tomes heavy in the air
Beyond the window; I’ve searched the sky for weighty words
Dreamt that I could countless times move souls
To the extent that they might rejoice or weep, or deeply yearn…
But I lament I’ve failed to paint the endless sky
With bridges leading to my beloved shades of greys and blues
Oh, just to hold a pen that once again leaks inky words of lonely, morbid woe
There is nothing that I wouldn’t do