Poetry – Page 17 – Theater of Sorrows

Mange

Go where the water runs red with my blood
Where the soil runs rust with my bones
To the West, the remains of my fallen dreams, to the East, my deadened soul…
You know what you did
You know who you are
Time has a way of melting the violence but still leaves poisonous scars…
Prayer into dance, knife into skin, salt into wound while the earth swallows screams
Sweet sage tentacles sweeping every inch of my wormwood mind to wipe you clean…
In the hall of infallible mirrors, take off that blindfold, open those guilty, corrupt eyes –
Mange! Mange! The glass reflects the truth; Your professors text of anagrams squeals your disguise
That heart-shaped swamp smeared with rancid deceit, self centered orgies, and cheap, delusional truths
Your spewing mouth deserves a barbed needle and arsenic thread –
Those formaldehyde veins, wasted stone-eyes, toxic stench of hemlock that disturbs the dead…
And now, twisted ruins decaying, mind the carcass of debris
It would be lovely to give you just one taste of what you’ve done to me
All the nuns are running mad
The angels tear their wings in blessed fits while demons dissect hope
You reduced me to a voyeur, hiding behind the curtain with haunted, melting eyes
You sought what is mine with an illiterate mind, but the pages he penned clearly defined –
I am his light, and his dark, his eternal breath –
Loved before time birthed our reflection into existence; Conjured by his thirst for my spirit
Our typescript of paraphed prose a lush novella bound by celestial blood; Pay attention to chapter and verse –
I am his only blessing. I am his only curse
I am indelible centuries and hold all dreams in my lacerated arms –
When there is no faith to oil the hands of time, smooth its aloof, apathetic philosophy…
When there is no charity to lure the moon from her desolate mood
I am insanity methodically wrapped in sane
If I bothered to hate you
If I wasted my time…
It would mean that you meant something to me
When you only meant something to yourself
Squirm in the corner with your straightjacket psychosis
With your insipid, narcissistic, inanimate, detestable soul
Claw the paint from the walls with your tart nails in a dramatic fit
While your foul breath howls, spews your toxic disease –
In an effort to make yourself relevant
The succulent divine will never be your understanding –
No summery absinthe clouds painting animals and daffodils in your sky
Eternal love bound in amaranth laces…
Moon night, moonlight, lipstick kisses trailing down
Cosmic coupling, chemical bondage, fragrant flesh, exquisite derangement
An innate knowing, no mortal or universal force will sever ecstasy dark and beautiful –
These chandelier layers of agony confection
Climatic lust and love connection
Sutured souls held captive willingly; Define Loves reason and its season
Soul eater, anathema… You will never have mine, nor thine –
Your existence is a mediocre nuisance, a pathology to be excised…
I have no remorse regarding your birth; The path to you brought mine to me
Your smoky shadow smudged into the void with no regret –
Cool night air and cigarette amulet; Curls of smoke hearts and poppy stars beneath a twilight sky
Moon tide baptizes me, takes you out to sea…
Lesson learned, lesson learned, have you heard? Wide awake eyes speak in wordless poetry
Loves definition is his and mine alone, and no other one, no other one will come between…
Feral, fetish, exultation, sacred, mystical, transcendental
Deviant devotion, spirit ejaculation, divine ferociousness, luminous sublime
Atemporal Love, its perfume wafting through all dimensions, peculiarities, complexities and time

Something a bit different III

Loves Ballet (2002)

At Prides insistence
I whispered –
In the distance
You’ll find yourself returning
And bit my lip until it bled to halt tears that were burning
Gauzy love was blowing in the air
While children ran round a fish-shaped fountain
And up red mossy stairs…
And through my skirt the coldness of the wall
Was nothing like the sorrow of the flight of love, now stalled
As if they sensed this tete-a-tete was of regret
The leaves blew from the trees
Floating down and swirling round it seemed in ecstasy
And I
I longed to touch your face
My soul
Reeled from neglect and begged for one more taste
But while your eyes were lit lamps of concern
The flames I used to see for me were now a fire that barely burned
And at guilts insistence
You said, in the distance
You might find the fog was clearing…
But that you’d spurned Cupids pomp –
Yet it seemed your eyes were tearing…
And the heaviness within my heart lurched against my chest
But I remembered vividly you said you thought it best
And I could try a harlots tricks, but stubborn as you were
Painted lips and flirty eyes to you’d just be obscure…
I turned my face against an ill cold wind
I stood and one last look at you about did me in
But love is not, my love, always lovely
And sometimes the truth does truly set you free
It might take time but I knew I’d find some tranquility
And why should I beg anyone to stay who wished to leave?
So then, a smile and one last look
In deep, dark liquid eyes
Funny how we used to share our bodies every night…
And now it seemed the frozen ground held an imaginary line –
I dared not pass or even smudge
As I said goodbye…
The children were still playing round the fountain as I walked away
They snatched a plump orange goldfish but it made a grand escape
I turned around and you were gone, and I wondered if you felt the same –
Or if, like me, you were sad to see
The death of loves ballet

More Blood than Violence

This bitter moment burns
A harsh rising bile, a vicious internal clawing…
To taste love; The sweetest saturation
Carving blue down my heart as it reveals itself to be a ghost
Mourning carried on the brittle air
Through bereft valleys of forgotten bones
A haunting reverie crushing time with its spindly fingers
Searing flesh with its spitting love, sheared of its legitimacy –
Tossed into a fire bath –
Charred into dust
To scatter across miles, spinning into a deluge of cement tears
That eventually rust on the tongues of the damned
In their moment of reckoning –
When their toothless, barbed-wire, open moth-filled mouths
Shriek foul throaty epitaphs, coffin memoirs ripe with bitter juices
Eyes sewn shut in exile, sulking serpent witch pouts
And you will remember; I will as well
But we are prophets of poverty; There will be no further stories
Of those miles in the rear view, 2am contemplations
Wide eyes, love letters, coffee kisses, tattoos
Bed sheets tangled, along with long hair
Darkness entwined with snow everywhere
Madness and cages, cigarettes and rages
Sorrow and shadow spilling onto written pages
While the crisp winter air burned our lungs and our hopes
Until we came unbound in a room full of ropes
Until all that we had were glances and silence –
Slicing through our hearts leaving more blood than violence
To spill from that wine glass you carefully sipped
While my mind was reminded of the taste of your lips
And how they used to travel all over my skin
And melt all my efforts at distance again
So that clothes fell away as you stayed your course
And again reminded me that I was yours
Since long before times brittle shattered illusions
Before poetic rhyme etched on firefly wings
Before there was conscious and unconscious flame
Before there was anything; You spoke my name –
Through threaded seasons of lilac-webbed epochs
You came for me, to protect what was yours
Your wild lions mane and nocturnal warrior eyes –
Potent medicine in the glow of the goassamer mist
Thick and sweet, like dark cherry wine
Your lips an irresistible chloroform kiss
Ah, but somehow we wavered and ice and the cold
Came out of the shadows this winter… took hold
To creep and dismantle, then splinter and burn
As we crashed into each other to damage and churn
In delusions of passion, we stabbed with dull knives –
Tried to glue all our wounds but just bled in reverse
While the wine grew moldy and acrid like stained smoke –
Filling our mouths with ripples of the perverse
Breeding slime beneath our skin that was horrid
We reached for each other but the drowning was torrid
To ravage our hearts… To tarnish our souls…
Once the writhing was done we had nowhere to go
And so this bitter moment
Loves eyeless ghost
A mordicant, corrosive valentine picking at loves withered bones
Blood red white wine to choke down as it turns to ashes
In our room where the bedposts are tied with worn sashes
To eventually rust, to eventually fade –
To eventually, poetically disintegrate
Until not the smallest trace, even if sublime
Is left of two people who loved before time
Just a diseased cemetery dripping with sour
Where angels sutured to demons are being devoured
And fanciful inscriptions written in blood –
There’s no fate, no forever, no magical cure
No “I’m sorry,” or “Please stay,” as it ends in a blur

Just the sorrowful truth –

Love doesn’t always endure

Backward glances to try and hold time
Traces of love in torn poetic pages
Coffee-stained teardrops romancing our words
What’s done is done, tender scars remain ageless
Anguish and regret spilled out in silence
Slicing through our hearts leaving more blood than violence
Wounds bled in the deception of silence
Slicing through our hearts leaving
More. Blood. Than. Violence.
Love lost in the depths of silence…
Slicing through our hearts
Leaving

More blood than violence