“You make me want to be a better person.”

rather, the thought began as,

“Sorry I’m not perfect.”

Advertisements

A cliche confession

Will there be Crumb?

And my dear –

What will remain of our love,

when I’m done with this

Scone, here?

IMG_7835(scone_crumb poem).jpg

Will there any crumbs be

Leftover

For you and me?

Will there any remains be

Of your love,

Of you, my dear?

 

Will I ever be able to get

a taste of the crumbs of your love dear?

Something is coming continued

This time,

Her head was cracked backwards

She had curly hair

Her mouth ripped side to side

In joyous shrieks,

She was crackling her S.O.S.

And again,

A sense of happiness and relief

For her.

She is in no doubt, agony.

But I am happy for her.

Because, I think…

I no longer associate agony as a bad thing.

Maybe I know this is what she needs

That this is what we all need

To move on to the next level.

She knows this too,

She knows she is being saved

She knows she is about to enter

I swear it is birth itself personified

You just don’t see the blood

You just don’t see the Mother pushing,

Her teeth of ivory, hard-gritting

With tears of joy and ever-lasting love exuding from and through her being.

You just don’t see the Father awaiting,

With grateful arms carefully open,

to catch, to hold,

Eyes glistening with awe and fear at the unencompassable beauty that is about to enter the world.

It is a birth,

It is anxious

It is full of possibilities,

But not uncertain,

Rather, it is so certain.

So certainly happening,

She is coming

She is coming

She is coming.

More than she knows,

More than she’d ever be able to fully grasp in the moment.

I await.

Desperately

For her coming.

Patiently.

I await.

Actively.

Unhurriedly.

I await.

Faithfully.

I await.

Something is coming

I can sense it.
Roar.
I close my eyes.
Darkness,
And something from the right,
A blasting scream
A woman’s shriek.
Long, black, ruffled, coarse
Hair.
She screams with all her might,
Fear
I’m gladdened by the sound.
Roar.
It tickles me,
Excites
My Heart
Wants to know,
Awaits more

I sense it.
Something is coming.

She is Fierce.
She is insistent.
She is Loud,
But calls from afar.
Yet I feel her
So close.
I feel,
So close.

Her nails are clawing
She is reaching
And reaching
Her legs flailing,
And kicking

She wants to be free.
She wants to run.
She wants to gallop.
But she doesn’t want to flee.

Not away from something,
But towards somewhere.

She wants to feel the wind.
She wants to drink the raindrops.
She wants to smell the Earth.
She wants to be her Beast.

She wants to be bare.
She wants to receive.
She smells the moist air
If only she could reach…

It’s almost an orgasm
I feel
Her coming.
She is so desperate
She is making me tear.
She is in agony,
She knocks, and bangs
Persistently.

She fights for her life.
Not a life,
But her life.

She hisses her tongue,
She knows a secret language
How
I don’t know
But she is so clever,
She knows.
Grin.
Her time is almost up.
She will come out soon.
Let all men dread
Her return.
Rebirth
Her run.
Her wrath.
Her love.
Her path.

Soon, she will come.
She will come.
She will come.

Yes, she will come
She will come
She is.
Come

phantom lover of mine

I don’t know
are you another ghost?
who lays beside me
in this pre-dawn darkness
whose eyes glisten
staring ever so loving
is it you?
is it really you?

I don’t know
I don’t know
Who lays beside me
these dark, sleepless nights
I only know
who I wish it would be
who I wish it could be
who I need it to be
holding me close
holding me tight
through these long endless nights

New Moon, moving

he’s moving

he’s moving

my baby’s moving with the new moon

the new moon

it’s a new moon

the moon moves my baby

away

away

my baby moves

by the same moon that moves me

we move

together,

separately

farther.

travel safe love

be light my dear

for the moon takes you

there,

there,

all places you go.

and if those places be

far, farther from me

so shall it be.

for it is the moon that leads

you

away

from me.

it is the moon that leads

us,

you and me.

cradling a stillborn

for how long can you cradle a stillborn in your arms

can you stare him to life

can you cry him to life

can you kiss him to life

breathe him to being

 

will you call out his name, if he has one

will you plead his departing soul, “Please stay

will you fight his stillness

will you insist

will you let go

will you release

will you open your arms

let the angels carry him

let your bosom be bare

let your heart tear

 

would you hold him dear still

would you hold him still dear

dear would you still hold him

dear would you hold him still

a recollection of a night dream whilst reading “Women Who Run With the Wolves”

night dream

 

he had left me,

i had gone searching

he came back

and led me back to my room

 

and we were caught

i wanted to save him

from going back

to that place that held him blind

 

but we were caught

and

separated

torn apart

 

i went back for him

i went back to him

 

but old nuns in black and white

they led me to a pond

it was a peaceful pond

a small pond

the stones were round

the stones were big

and dark, like black

smooth granite

 

with solemn looks

on their aged faces

but eyes understanding

they led me to peace

 

a pond of peace

a pond of quiet

they led me to…

on proving love

does the ability to wait endlessly, for days and weeks on end, with no word or contact, in any shape or form, whatsoever, from you, my dearly beloved, prove my love for you?

does the ability to wait silently, prove my love for you?

or does the ability to wait in soliloquy, prove my love for you?

does the ability to wait, in un-waiting, sans any expectation, prove my love for you?

and what about you, my dear?

would your ability to find time for me, your dearly beloved, despite the chaos in your life, prove your love for me?

would your ability to better balance work and love, prove your love for me?

would your ability to become more available, prove your love for me?

but, would you, do you even desire to?…to prove your love to me?