The Last Dragonfly

Spectacular Sign

You
Were the highway of my childhood –
Aspen birch skin, feline green eyes, waterfall, platinum tresses
Curves and legs
Hollywood voluptuous in a small-city girl; You were Marilyns prelude
Your joie de vivre lighting the Hollywood strip, pale, candy cane pink kisses trailing behind you
You inspired eyes of desire, and I
I chased your magic –
It followed you everywhere, although you rarely noticed
I tried to catch it in a jar, but it was trickier than those fireflies that lit the lilac bush in summertime
I tried to lure it onto my palm, but it was fierce and wild
But as the years fell away, you did, as well
Clouds of fire
Rolling through the sky
Roiling, toiling angry monstrosities
Beautiful chaos like your embattled eyes
Violin lips pressing a haunted melody against every blissful season, chilling each pleasant breeze
Blowing icy kisses that frosted the ocean waves as you stood barefoot in the cold, wet sand
Lingering somewhere that could never be touched…
Captured in a Polaroid, your hair whipping in the wind, face turned sideways, eyes numb, like your smile
And I dared never ask the question –
Since your demons easily tripped you up
And your spurs, and quills shot to attention, punching through your delicate, pale skin
Like tarnished armor that kept you separate, kept you scarce and alone
But I remember how I played in your shadow, looking up at you with adoration
Heel to your toe –
The whole world rose in your smile and danced to your laughter
And should there ever be a measure of my soul
It would be those breaths taken within the span of your ethereal wings
Moments when your love unpeeled times grey shadows to reveal exquisite pastels beneath
And, having forgotten who I was
I found myself in the glint of your soft, fragile, velvet eyes
While your lacy wings wrapped me in their lilac-scented sweetness…
We brushed against, and pushed through the clouds that ringed the mountains
Carbonated wilderness full of specters drier than a dead desert –
Coughing up their putrid sawdust, choking us
But you gathered me up and without hesitation, dove into the sky
Wings beating a lullaby
Flew past the sunflowers and marigolds
To land in the clover-dotted grass
Where we tended to our nicks and gouges
And the world righted itself, surrounded by a cornflower blue sky…
Your silhouette unfurls and I reach out from my dreams, my fingers sliding through empty air
Drops slip beneath my lashes to flow down my temples into my dark hair
I don’t want to open my eyes and admit nothingness –
But it resides there, the yin to my yang
Kitchen table coffee mornings were a best part of us
Each time I traveled back, feet on the blue concrete landing, peering through the glass panes into my childhood
Hand on the doorknob, eager
I remember the time the egg shells cracked and I hid in the bathroom, sobbing –
Unable to understand how I could make you so angry
I still don’t know what happened that day, but I hold it close to me, along with sweet, candied moments
Now that I can’t hold you
This morning, I feel separate, scarce, alone, and wish for a lullaby; I’m looking at the sky
Wishing for that fierce and wild in your long ago
As you darted and dodged, hovered and swirled
Prisms of colors, purples, greens, blues and lush black
Wings that kissed my cheeks with tenderness as you flew by –

The last dragonfly

Unraveling

Caldron of Churning Cumulus

The night caves
Folds itself into this asylum of darkness
Pillow talk, then twilight sleep beneath our sheets; Your lunar dreams mirror mine
Moontide conjures shadows in our minds
Our web-weaved dreams, melting in the flames of the damned…
A chessboard of the same battles, just different demons
We howl, curse such threadbare sanity –
Lungs inhale a distance that tastes of cold hammered metal, which becomes exhaled coppery alienation…
Nursery rhymes are grotesque illusions, demons live between the pages
Disturbing minds, spewing torment made of afflictions too dreadful to name
Maiming Love; jagged pieces scattered in careful, erotic poses in a barren field…
Blood seeping like dahlia ink between hagged, bony fingers bereft of loves prose
Their most ravishing calligraphy churning into a demon-scented, premature eulogy
A dissection with unsterilized instruments and no remorse
No respect is paid when loves cadaver is indistinguishable…
Hopeless corrosive seizures, fueled with a fury paralyze loves flesh
Tear it, leaving it raw, flawed and reviled –
Lost beauty morosely beautiful
Glittering hyacinth recollections hiding beneath lacy, silver moon rays
Carried on wing and wind back into monochrome dreams
Petal-perfumed memories blossoming despite what offenses have tarnished
Reach for me; I will reach for you
Through cosmic cracks –
I see your soul
This inertia, that were going through…
Mathematics, mechanics, mutations and molecules
Obscenities –
Reach for me; I will reach for you
Paradigms a solitary, thorny cage; Puncture wounds stain a crisp white page
Sunless silhouettes rotting on the walls; Undrempt dreams unravel in the hall…
I’m your destiny, not your fate…
Your choice, your desire –
Not an inevitable chain
I’m the oracle of your truth
I’m the medium of your pain
I’m the vessel for your moody soul
Your silky lair to rest your nightmares of woe
Our savage, raging specters are forgeries –
Restrain love with each morbid, carcinogenic striptease
Shibari bound, to choke on kinks that masquerade as fantasies
But, my love, you know my eyes in your dreams
My whispers, my warm breath against your skin
Eons of sweetness, star-ice wrapped in moon fire…
Our thirst, faith, perceptions, fill the abyss
Time is this skeletons skeleton key; Through the dimensions our harms seep
And though whether wrought by fair or foul; I suspect that shadows creep
Through the sun to catch the moon
Tell me love, will you come home soon?
Wrap us in your tender words…
Give love a voice to be heard?

Spasms

Slipping into Silent, Sempiternal Slumber

Howling, rabid emptiness chases the velvet night into a wildfire
Like the tall meadow grass is set to flame, when a wildebeest races across it, and coal-flung hooves collide
Clack spurs breeze spurs spark; Ignite…
And you, you seek refuge from your demons in this industrial, urban cave
Lean over the dark-stained, diamond-patterned, leather-clad and red velvet bar
Fidgeting fingertips drumming contemplative brooding into the stale air
Amaretto sour in a lowball, like a smooth, solid paperweight cupped in your caressing palm –
There was a time, in your glazed reverie… a warm, solid breast cupped in your caressing palm…
Oh those starburst eyes, spun from star-death kissed dreams, engulfed in yesterdays closely held far-aways –
Those young, ripe aspirations, like invincible silver-screen tutti frutti morsels
Almost turned the mountains to gold
And now, reconciled and bored; You pull at frayed, tender threads
Ply the mocking hands of fate with slurred quotes from unfinished poems that tremble
As you recount needle-sharp trials, that left clichéd burnt dreams rife with ghost souls –
The aftermath of cruel, crushing disappointments
It doesn’t actually matter how you got to here
To this here; sitting at this bar, belly warmed by this Italian-crafted aphrodisiac that melts the webs in your mind
Lets your skin breathe and loosens the macraméd bondage of your tongue
Until there are no walls, no blurs nor lines to censor the blunt within your words
You consider that while you are typically congenial; Blunt will do just fine at the moment
As into the liquor-fumed air you direct your attention toward fates tyrannical existence
Launch a stern admonishment to remove its sadistic tentacles and reacquaint past with present –
The babies breath with the lamb
Reignite the tingling anticipation you once felt up and down weathered and stiff vertebrae seams
Fill your head with origami clouds that spin your mirages into jeweled wings
Which carry your shoe-boxed reflections, metaphors, notions and half finished creations
Into this current, resigned, vanilla existence
Carve the dim air surrounding you into the dazzling fireworks that swirl through your imagination
Like the wheel of life nailed to that stubborn tree in the corner of the yard
Its spinning needle spitting sparks that heat your blood –
Snap your gloom like crispy bones
Burn into your skull, to relieve the pressure that your contorting fingers can’t massage away –
Husk that ritual, of fingers to temple, that provides an impotent mute at best, of the riotous, tolling spasms that throb
Or at least maintain some semblance of mediocre pain between the fingers and the booze…
It’s funny how no one knows your name
You’re like a smeared chalk outline on the wall
But your face kind of resembles someone that someone thought they saw somewhere, some time ago
You suppose that’s better than nothing
And return your attention to the molten liquid that loosens clenched vocal chords
Considering that possibly no one would think you sane if your lips moved in an attempt to scold demons
Despite those same cynics revering a faceless, bodiless specter called karma –
Of whose evidence you’ve never witnessed, and whose name you’ve spat toward hell
However, you have wintered with fate, its stingy, cruel, decrepit fingers twisting, squeezing your hand
Dragging you into its bone yard of the puppeteered forsaken
Where it climbs on the backs of demons, its egg-sized, wobbly eyes and arthritic claws digging beneath their thick skin –
It goads them to suck the juice from lottery ticket souls until they wither into shrunken tombs
To harbor nothing more than disappointment, faded eyes and sawdust…
Demons have known you well, dwelling in your mind, and in your house
You’ve seen them creep from behind the curtains
Seen them drag their dead limbs across the room when sun dust settled and the shadows fell
Heard the bed groan as they climbed in beside you
Hissing, yammering creaky-breathed soliloquies about a wasted world
Hammered into your pounding head lotus dreams unfolding 13 years of nightmares
Where crow, feather, beak and bone foretold that this apocalypse was your Everest, and –
“Another?” disrupts, returns the present, so you study your glass in its knuckled perch
And decide that there comes a time when fate must learn that you’ve had your fill
“Whiskey, neat, I’ve had enough of the former,” you remark, as you conclude that we each have our own demons
Some haven’t entered battle yet, some have already lost, some are still putting up a fight, while some have won
And insane can be a lovely distraction; You’ve no quarrel with her allure
So they can be damned, with their pointy fingers and clucking tongues, you think
But now, it’s time to scoop up hell and send it raining down
While you stand firmly on the ground, and on the brink