Theater of Sorrows

Scars

Does it make me weak or strong? To love despite the hurt; Betrayal?
To be a steadfast island in your sea, when all you give me are tempestuous seasons?
Looking toward heaven, sending my dreams back to the sky
Soul littered, rows and rows of shallow graves
Tender spots, tear-stained words, loneliness and questioning the scars… are rooted deep
Fingertips softly trace the raised edges of the ones that can be seen
The reflection in my eyes is hard to swallow; Am I meant to be alone?
Just a shadow in a corner, just a hungry ghost?
I despise myself, now that you’ve shown me how…
I thought that I might become
Your true confession
The music in your heart and the warm, blue waters in your soul
The meaning of your words, even the ones that went unheard…
The wild abandon, passion unashamed –
The desire of the fire in your eyes, naked and untamed
My name the only one on your lips, breathy in my ear, curving against my neck…
You; Falling into my mysterious unknown with savage abandon
Cursing whatever gods had kept you from me, while you ripped time from the universe –
Demanding that our reincarnation be reincarnated…
I thought that I might become
Your medicine
Your ceremonial prayer, your spiritual communion
The keeper of your deepest secrets
Your last breath
But you spun me around until I forgot who I was
Walking backward in the mirror in my funeral dress; I became
Your greatest secret
Your concrete valentine
Your last choice
Your loathed prison
Our poem of sorrow, an ending without a beginning, still I;

I wandered along your cliffs
Pushed against your storm, headstrong and defiant
I explored your caves
Dug up your secrets, with softened eyes
I rubbed your anxious brow with feathered fingers
Heartbeat placed beneath your hand
I held on when no one lingered
A constant star in your starless sky

I want to be your chaos, my hair your silky blindfold, my body your garden where you wander, my eyes your only storm
My skin where your mouth lingers, my mind your favorite playground, my soul your spirit pony, My heart your only home
The nightmare in your dream just to keep things interesting
The red streaks on your back, after you let me taste what death is like
When you said my name; I thought you called me Heaven
I thought you called me Beautiful
I thought you called me… Mine
You build the fire, then lead me to it, hold me by my hair, until my skin crackles, hisses, runs down my bones
I am your boredom, your ambivalence; You wanted all my suffering to outdo your own
You want to see my pain, it lulls your wailing demons
The moon told you to wait; Take care, there lives no love in bitter fumes
Walking the veil between two worlds is a mad mans foolish choice
The ones that play with fire are the ones that are consumed…
Ghost eyes, you cut the mirrors from your face
But shadow always follows soul
Naked anger licking flames, seething, writhing, pent up wrath
The skies on fire like the ground below
Your indifference is indicative of a mangled spirit –
Best to tend to your overgrown soul
Pull out those piled up weeds from your polluted soil
Those noxious thorns when the sun lays low
Those weeping wounds by the roots; Toil
Claw and dig with shovel or hoe
Before your humanity becomes inhuman
Cornflower ghost dance on a waiting grave –
Reluctant fallow shadows beckon
Faithless deeds for you to reckon
Wrecked pupils dismember my weary heart
And there’s no more left of you to save

The Color of Our Truth

Cutting deep, desolation and despair
You’re the one I want to keep but this may have gone beyond repair
Our conception born from words, far into the early morning hours
We eagerly devoured the lovely chaos swirling round in our minds
Creeping through feral, demented forests – Sometimes running blind
Diving into madness… Are you there?
Can I reach out and tangle my fingers in your hair?
All these walls with busted corners
All these windows with no view
And the bells are ringing near the hill side
While the crows perch on the pews
Osteomancy underneath a nightshade sky –
Brittle bones born to die… Sliding through fingers smooth as glass
Knocking on the stones, spilling our mystery
Sucking the rain into their cracked, dusty fragments
To expel our story –
Sticky and messy, gritty and reserved, scraping and tearing…
Like trying to hold fire in a cage
The unfolding of our becoming… or undoing…
Lust lovely, love… bite the savage, sweet and sinister. Listen to them speak –
But the winds run dry and the bones won’t cry –
This vague shadow as empty as a scarecrow – a riddle swallowing itself
A feast without the famished…
Time cannot collapse destiny like water carves the stone
It’s been a long time coming, but now you don’t have to be alone
The color of our truth is blue
It sounds like your whisper in my ear
It smells like September
It looks like the gentleness in your fierceness
It feels like your heartbeat beneath my palm
And it tastes like laughter in tall glasses
There are glimpses in the valley now… traces, running down badger like Indian ink –
Compilations and coffee rings in the Underground…
Melting roadside tragedies on the Queens gate…
Indelible scriptures
That give way to the Sacred
While you surrender your burdens to me
Surrender your anguish, your pain
Let these wretched things fall away late at night in our musky catacomb
Where we tangle our bodies in luscious disarray
And your shoulder tempts my lips
The soft heat of you, ink and scars, delights that I find… your bodies lovely ornaments –
Priceless frescoes that are now mine to seek with euphoria, trace with awe
Desire with madness, taste with rapture
You are my poetry, whether written in blood or ink
Whether smudged in dark decadence, carved into my own skin, pouring from my wounded mind –
Or seeping from my tortured soul…
Layers upon layers, woven together, waiting for the sunflowers to anoint our rusted time
Your eyes are questions to my answers
Your soliloquies are my memories
Your beauty stirs me… makes me weep with desire
Steals the angels innocence and makes them swoon
Come be my sweetest lover, my deepest sorrow, my darkest moment
Lets stray to
Where our madness devours our sanity
Where our love is fierce and wild
Where home is in each others eyes
Tonight, come into my dreams and take me into yours…

Small Atrocities

Waiting under a midnight sapphire sky
Chandeliers of white lilies and lotus –
A petalled, frilly, perfumed canopy
My dreams tangled with sorrow, best buried among the weeds now
Love lying in the graveyard where the crows pick at its bones
Jewels long gone; Tossed into stolen piles of hoarded trinkets
To rust like metal in an angry, vicious sea
This twisted disaster –
Ghosts dancing to a funeral dirge before death bothered to extract its execution
No ritual, no exorcism would have turned grey into color
Weeping words slithered down sun-starved cheeks, while the moon chanced painful glances –
Wondering how to unravel severed veins from pumping, empty hearts
How to find remorse in a vacant vessel
There will be no contented sighs for this discontented fiction –
And tears are better served to authentic paupers, fools and dreamers
Than to this charming, beguiling illusion that deceives the damned
Swarms through blood like bees from their bludgeoned hive
But this trial by fire melts… cauterizes traitorous skin from solid bones –
A cocooned awakening…
Sears the patina from tarnished pupils until fallacy cracks into withered, new-born moons
That coax poetic dancing on the riverbank
Primal, unabashed gyrations that shake specters from a damaged soul
Sensuous flailing… Delicate feet and slender legs, gracious thighs whispering to private gardens
Soft belly, wispy arms, willowy fingers, pillowy breasts, plump mouth, flowing hair –
Moon-kissed skies… lips pressed against hopeful eyes…
A new season of voluptuous photographs
A new breeze through the open window
Upon which burnt words disperse, then crumble into dust that coats the tumbleweeds in this arid desert
Rolling away from this sacred border onto the parched landscape of forgotten dreams
Where the sun will bake their spiky bristles into brittle nests
That the magpies snap and gather, to carry off into the trees of yesterdays archives
What remnants remain of another lifetime, wrapped in iridescent stars –
Tossed into the sky for the sun to keep…
Waiting under a midnight summer sky
Chandeliers of purple-sweet lilacs
Their breath blooming dreams in the garden and on my lips
Tears ground up in the drain until the switch broke
Sutures dissolving in a thousand quiet, unblessed wounds
The moon whispers mystery into my ear, brings new words for my calloused fingers to leak
Time is turning over on itself
The ache is now a constant, dull shadow, a spirit storm tolerable but deserving of a funeral
The shovel is where he left it
I have avoided those small atrocities that he left behind –
There are no angels concerned with loves small atrocities
But summer is fleeting and Fall must not be abandoned to heartless acts
So beneath falling silvery stars that burn deep ravines in the lavender stained sky
I am an eclipse, a shadowed summer, filtered through a ripe, late sun lens
My inky pupils my brooding pen, burning skeleton images onto crisp linen, coffee-stained pages
Writing lyrical requiems until the last dead give up their ghosts
And the moon births my eyes