Tyrant Supreme

ripped asunder
and
split,
into a thousand
wants, flagrant
in their desire,

the thrill
of loss
burns vengefully,
like
an orgasm
leached artfully
from an unsuspecting lover.



yet,
the dance persists.


urged on
by singed memories
of those stolen moments,
we sacrifice still:
soul
and fire;
magic
and gold;

all,
to the false gods
of hope,
destiny,
and
love.

come with me,
angel
of the night,
and let us be free
of this misplaced oblivion.

Awakening

so called clarity
begets this
mindless wandering.


I yearn again for
the simple dreamtruth
and
fantastical wisdom
found in that wild place within,
where cruel innocence
and
devout desire
writhe together as one,
intertwined;
ecstatic.


sinking once more
into this fog of knowing,
i drown my soul
deep into primal memories
of a union more true
than purest oblivion.



finally,
I am free.

waves

gently scalded
by
a star’s loving mercy,
i slip again,
down
into the shadows
where (my) truth blossoms
furtive,
and safe
from expectations and love.

yearning for absolution,
yet fearing
dissolution into a greater part
of me.

so i scale these peaks of despair
and slide into the valleys, grounded in solitude,
all the while,
avoiding the stagnant tranquility of constancy.

Wild Woman

opened my soul,
and
my heart too.



slipped
unto my hearth
to fan my flames
with loving kindness,
tender wisdom
and,
her wild magic.



opened my heart,
and
my soul too.



days, weeks,
or centuries pass-
her mark is
indelible, and
infinite in its alchemy.



this soul is open
to the star fire within,
ready to unleash a love unfathomable
unto a Universe in need
of audacious miracles
and boundless possibility.



and I sally forth,
to open hearts,
and
souls too.





spark

fiercely tamed
by pride,
I come to you
for some succor and
respite
from the storm within.

wickedly,
shamelessly,
my light slips out -unexpectedly
and
needlessly.
and,
through these broken eyes
Truth washes away reality.


will you give me
what i
ask?

or
must i take it
again
and again,
like a chaste whore,
born again?

after the storm

this longing,
undiminished yet
faltering,
like a wet feather in the wind.

swirling galaxies of delight and wonder
wait
to find their way
to you.

if only i was strong enough,

if only there was time enough.

if only.
if only.

a stalking wind,
hot
dry,
charged with audacity
and purpose,
rolls in
over my dreams,
sending tingles of nostalgia
through these borrowed bones.

it is time.

are you ready?

LP No. 33_2021_karibu

longing
for the sweet smell of home.
the smell of history,
whispered through the air.

that familiar smell,
of power
rising,
…….from the very earth.

home, where i bathed in starlight,
letting rivulets of wisdom
roll down my soul:

tears of the ancestors
who mourn what was yet to be.

tears of the ancestors
who mourn what would never be.

so i sing,
that they know,
what has come to be,
i sing
that they know our new story.

and i sing,
that they dry their tears.

and i sing
that they might welcome me home.