I drank rain from a malevolent cup
and I couldn’t touch the terror in the wind
I distinctly felt the extinction in the air
and the intruders inside me left fingerprints
I anticipated the rumblings, jitters, and
the despair to rest in my esophagus
I stood in the fog seven miles away from
the shadows and the vile from the hill
I swallowed ignorance with a blend of
dismay, concern and suspicion
I fell before the behemoth’s sins and
I stared at the tarnished wisdom
I inhaled the scent of darkness
and I could feel the breeze of agony
I witnessed my logic, quirks, and talking
Skeleton disappear into the clouds
I was consumed by crisis oriented faith,
misplaced psychology, and charades
I stared at the dementia with my lip
quivering and with the aftertaste of sorrow
I stood six feet apart from the quicksand
and the rattle swimming in the sea of chaos
I severed the gospel from my identity
and I muttered words of inadequacy
I stepped on the carousel of deception
and shrugged off human decency
I became one with the vile from the hill
and detested the color of my pupils
I was obsessed by the anxiety and the
venom in my stomach turned into stone
I was crushed by my weaknesses
and the stench of loneliness dispersed
I devoured the indecisions, complexity,
and the tears in my eyes evaporated
I despised the grave of my haunting past
and ignored the road to the sunrise
Under her breath she uttered “Life is as beautiful as a forehead kiss” Joy dances like a ballerina on her spellbinding tongue She squeezed tea parties with her doll Delilah with her artistry Quietly adoring her childhood books on the shelf from the tallest to the shortest She painted love with the ocean with her steady hand on her prized canvas Gazing at her innocent imagination Memorized the pattern and pastel colors of her quilt In a whisper she mumbled “Beauty is inside, not in the eye of the beholder” Climbing inside her mellow perception She glided across the beige carpet with an ornament of a smile A sphere filled with crayons, lite bright, easy bake oven, and ballroom dresses Cherishing the extraordinary recollection, Embracing the collage of photographs in her heart Drops fall to the floor as she glances at a hollow room on Wildfire Lane
She slips on theological rhetoric She hides behind the voodoo stuck to her silent tongue Wearing her vixen like dress She acquired accolades and accommodations from the saliva of the burnt orange wolf She spoke the language of love in riddles and teenage rhymes Wearing her Madusa like pearls She mishandled truth and washed down a liter of half bitten lies She threw away fortunes and laughed at others misfortunes Wearing her witchcraft perfume She roared liked the bitch she was and ignored the crowd who carried her on a Persian rug Wearing her battle ax over her shoulder
I woke up next to a vulture with a dog bone chain around her neck Staring at me with vile I woke up next to a flame that wrapped her sins around my waist Staring at me with corruption I woke up next to a blood sucking leach that smirked with a lush appetite Staring at me with disdain I woke up next to a villain made up of clay hiding the weapons Staring at me with a plan I woke up next to a furious soul that was shaken from discomfort Staring at me with delight I woke up next to a bitten snake that slithers through the camouflage Staring at me with vengeance
She’s exhausted from spilling ink She’s uncertain with her fingertips She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside She’s powerless from the past She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper Sing me a song for wide hope Sing me a song for stretched out faith
She’s frail within her bones She’s isolated from the rattle She’s licking her wounds quietly She’s aching for companionship She’s comfortless and abandoned Sing me a song for freedom Sing me a song without chains
She’s tangled up in desolation She’s withdrawn and torn down She’s a tragedy without a witness She’s reclusive and friendless She’s a sky without any clouds Sing me a song for change Sing me a song for healing
Unraveled and detoxing from the vibrations. I saw lies injected into your shriveled up sun. I saw you nauseas from the sight of the blood dripping from the roses. I saw a self indulging massacre spin. I walked away from your propellers. I saw the crash from a distance in slow motion. Fixated and obsessed with the numbness. I witnessed you crawling through the trenches. I saw you fight with your own scars. I saw you plead with your skeptic past. I saw you disappear into the white light.
Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea’s side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.
Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark
On the horizon walking like the trees
The wordy shapes of women, and the rows
Of the star-gestured children in the park.
Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,
Some of the oaken voices, from the roots
Of many a thorny shire tell you notes,
Some let me make you of the water’s speeches.
Behind a post of ferns the wagging clock
Tells me the hour’s word, the neural meaning
Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning
And tells the windy weather in the cock.
Some let me make you of the meadow’s signs;
The signal grass that tells me all I know
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.
Some let me tell you of the raven’s sins.
Especially when the October wind
(Some let me make you of autumnal spells,
The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)
With fists of turnips punishes the land,
Some let me make of you the heartless words.
The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry
Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.
By the sea’s side hear the dark-vowelled birds.