Where will you take me?
“Where would you go?”
Up to the sky to play
in the moon’s glow.
Out past the night clouds
to juggle the stars.
There’d be no limits,
no chains, and no bars.
“Where will you take me?”
Where would you go?
“Down to the ocean floor
so far below,
stirring the sandy mud,
skimming the stones.
Passing by treasure,
and shipwrecks, and bones.”
“Come, let us go now.
First here, and then there.
Deep on a sea voyage
high in the air.”
Amid the wreckage of Love’s palace he stood, looking at the blood and rubble of what had once been splendid and vibrant and good.
No more.
Empty now, his sobs echoed in the broken rafters, louder for that he’d told himself he wouldn’t cry.
Men have no feelings, no hearts. They are but brute and rutting beasts capable only of low thought and high mischief.
Darkness gathered at the window, peering in on him with its pale lunar eye lighting the ruin he’d become, kneeling with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking like a trembling child.
Sudden, cruel, and terrible had been the sound of her high-heeled footsteps, staccato clacking like small caliber shots to his heart.
Dignity lost, manhood scattered, his ice veins turned to water,and the water came out through his eyes. Despair had him by the throat and pulled the anguish out of him. He gave himself over and vowed he would always remember
And in the morning after, he would begin to become whole again,
But in the mourning after, he would never forget.
When drifting down these darkened banks
I see a million stars that draw
My wondering stare.
I find my thoughts
shine like the moon
on you,
your shadow walking
through the misty air.
I don’t know if you wait
or if you’re gone.
I only hope your smile
will greet me there.
But if you’re not,
I’ll grieve as life goes on,
and find my thoughts
turn into misty air.
I hear the gurgling crackle
of the waves.
The current’s hand
both pulls and pushes there.
The gentle wind does
stir the current so.
The fog starts waltzing
with the misty air.
I wonder if I’ll ever make it back
to kiss your lips,
and touch the raven hair
that tickles at my neck and chest
as care dissolves to love
upon the misty air.
I will survive no longer
I will live
I will surrender no longer
I will fight
I will suffer no longer
I will be content
I will stand still no longer
I will flow
I will hold on no longer
I will release
I will cry no longer
I will smile
I will hate no longer
I will love
I will be confined no longer
I will wander
For in the end,
if you can understand,
I will.
I finally showed myself to him.
My heart I did reveal.
He turned and ran.
I caught him.
He became my evening meal.
His blood was rich,
his scream sublime.
And as I held his head
I bit his throat apart
and sucked.
He bled and bled and bled.
His skin grew cold.
His heart grew weak
as in my rage I slew.
“Did you not realize,” I asked,
“that I’m in love with you?”
And in the end he shuddered hard
within my arms and died.
“I loved you too.”
His final words.
I cried and cried and cried.
They say ‘You grow too old to dream’
They say that ‘You’re too young to know’
Yet say ‘You can do anything.’
So do I stay or do I grow?
For if I am too old to dream
my time here is already done.
And if I am too young to know
then teach me, so the rising sun
will never find me void of thought
as I look at the world through eyes
of what I’ve learned of love and wonder,
cynicism and surprise.
A jaded innocence possesses
all the years I’ve been alive;
still taking people at their word
though most of them are talking jive.
I’ll never get too old to dream.
I’ll never be too young to know.
I’ll keep exploring although it may seem
there’s nowhere left to go.
Look,
a tigress.
Her
green eyes
over the rim of the glass
of Sangria
stare through me
as she
contemplates
her next move.
I see her at the edge
of her territory,
confident, fearless,
and ready to explore
new boundaries.
Like a
broken-winged bird
resigned to its fate,
I can only stare
into the depths
of those
verdant,
ocular seas,
and wait
in hope
she strikes.
Miranda emerges from the ocean,
curves like seashells,
warm and vibrant.
Eyes full of sun-diamonds
like the ones that cap the waves
that cling to her, wanting her for their own.
No, goddess, that way lies madness…
She twists the seawater from
her hair, and shakes it
as she runs it through her fingers,
and makes me want to be a strand.
She walks the warm sand,
a native nomad,
her smile as she lifts
her face to the sun puts it to shame.
And I feel like the first explorer
to claim these shores
who found its only treasure,
watching as she trails my dreams like
small plane banners
behind her
as she leaves.
From here I can look
all around
and survey my empire.
There, the distant hills gilded
in silver mist and emerald leaves
humble my own royal robes.
And here, the servants at my feet…
Young. Nubile. Fertile.
Mine to pluck like ripe fruit,
or slaughter as tender lambs.
My bride’s perfume is pleasant.
The eyes of my court are hard.
The halls of my palace
hold whispers of secrets and dreams.
My gardens host ghosts in the moonlight.
They tell me to be at peace,
take comfort,
sleep.
My borders do not
boil with rebellion,
and there is
no alarm of armies
at my gates.
I stand at the pinnacle of
all my achievements,
and realize that as I watch
the setting sun,
there is a smile
in the darkness of my grave
that
patiently waits…
I heard the light crash like thunder into the darkness.
Saw the obsidian surrounding my cage
shatter.
Heard the screams and wails and curses
turn to laughter, songs, and shouts of joy.
For too long
I walked under the canopy,
shielded from everything.
Yielding nothing.
And the light broke
through the darkness.
I saw the sky blue swatch of sky
flecked and speckled with drifting clouds,
felt the breeze of an early summer evening
cool on my skin.
The slope of the climb
to the world above was gentle, easy
and pleasant.
My heart rejoiced.
My will rebelled.
I wanted this light,
this blue, this breeze.
This joy.
But I burrowed
further down and broke
the light,
and sent it on its way.
Beyond Panic 