Ordained.

When you take
the number
and divide it by
women and men;
each number’s
representative
shackled to the next
there is no turning back again;
Each of the numbers
write from behind a face
and a name only known
by the remaining of the eight;
stationed, they form a natural loop
around a cauldron, boiling hot
they each impart upon the brew
the best of what they brought;
with words heavy as a ton of sand
and fire embers burning old as time
they concoct a wondrous trail of smoke
that creates a beacon above their firelight;
With every flavorful addition tossed in
the fire blazes and pot steams and steeps
the froth that simply forms along the surface
is potent enough to put a crackhead to sleep;
The reason being for this magick
is the formation of a dangerous clan
a legion of literary sword mimes
was how the strange brew began;
This group is threaded by invisible strings
a need to release all of the past happenings
and create from them something…
to counter, with some kind of solid meaning;
each dark, smoky tendril that vaporizes
from the brewing force into the Universe
another gladiator slain by an Arena Beast
another burial of a memory’s curse;
they evade beneath the canopy’s shade
a sword dug in the soil by each’s side
for they have forged the smallest army
hell-bent on turning the compliant tides.

Netherworld.

How this mind
of mine,
constructs a place,
a metallic taste
that saturates;
alive,
by the grace –
of another space
and time.
A Netherworld
just yours and mine
where the thoughts
of you and I;
pornographically
intertwine.
Nobody sees –
just you and me,
just the way
we like things to be;
You feel adored,
and I feel carefree.
A dream belonging
to who
I am when
I’m asleep…
to awaken
in the morning;
to the flushed cheeks
of your
time taken;
just freeze.
Stay locked in this position,
as the rain is drizzling;
nothing outside
of this place
where we hide,
matters too often
anymore to me, at least.
Real eyes
realize…
that time is truth
and truth is a lie;
Happily lost in
the cost
of your eyes,
Rain weighs in
lighter than
teardrops…
and take twice
as long to dry.

March to April.

Take me to the ocean’s edge;

bury me there in your kisses,

so darkly lit at the corners,

the smoothness of your mouth…

the snapping linen of windy echoes;

Tell me your most hidden truths;

confide in me your every secret,

so sprinkled by shimmer,

the peach fuzz of my skin…

the slapping palms on my ass cheeks;

Read to me from your Book of Poems;

find me safety beneath the voice,

belonging to my Saline Ghost…

the Guardian of my ears and lungs;

Visit me when I sleep and dream;

teach me such righteous divinities,

by one likened to a premonition…

the breaking of a titanium chain-link;

Promise me that you will stay;

poised at my side like you are now,

so collected to balance my insanity,

the ease by which you forgive…

the ripping up of nails from a coffin’s lid;

Lie to me if it means forever;

bury me beneath what you so choose,

so vulnerable to your many strengths,

attentively absorbing you like a sponge…

the infusion of some good in my life.

Answer.

together

“I have your answer.” he says through the satellites;
The answer – to a question…that I asked him tonight;
A tickle to his Wizard brain –
A thought, one driving me insane;
He is the winner playing on this field;
He breaks the records, he owns the game;
of my bullheaded difficulty, against his grain.
“Look inside of You.” And his words ring true – to my bones;
“This is me, is this you?” heartache gone…Let’s go home;
A tickle to my inner-ear –
A touch, a truth, I long to hear;
His are the hands that carry gently,
my evidently beating heart, he knows my name;
he holds the stones and feathers of the home from which I came.
“There’s nothing broken about you.” He’s all business in his tone;
Over and over and over…until the message starts hitting home.