Hangovers and Pancakes.
Trees and tall foreign birds.
I return
to capture past victories
only to realize the defeat
of me,
in me.
Brazilian babes shouting.
Robin
talking to me
about shoes,
or clothes….
I don’t remember…
because
it was was Robin fuckin’ Williams.
Best day of my fuckin’ life.
But.
I am here
now
Again.
Not my best day.
But a good day.
A damned
Good day.
Love
Lust
Life…
MEAT.
All fighting inside of me.
All
Losing.
But
I
Win,
when I submit.
to you.
yearning
had strangled my days
and nights
so fiercely,
with a thirst
to once again
feel the mountain's
wild heartrending roar.
and a need
to hear freedom
waft back
far beyond the shore.
twisted, tied, and
taut with desire,
a deluge poised impotent
upon untended lips,
seeking succour
through cold fingertips.
a strike breaks.
wind,
and
rain,
and
thunder begin their scry:
love
and purpose,
once again
on the rise.
are you ready?
somewhere
between the wind
and
shadow,
and
echoing triumphant
against the distance to my heart,
my name rings out,
in a voice that was once my own.
i
close
my
eyes to drift
closer,
and
sink further
into
the shadow of my song.
a soft smile slips:
scorched pleasure,
kindled in fear.
and I whisper back,
hello.
this love I bear thee
must bust
beyond mere words
and polished obeisances to
Mother moon
&
Papa xango.
this love,
lost so deep in
its non-sense void
it touches everything
but me,
beckons still...
So.
I touch beauty,
and
breath beauty,
and
fuck beauty.
for how else will you know what surrounds us all?
faint
joys
gladly forgotten,
pull back the pall
of shadow's final kiss.
sweetly
debilitating;
venomously
intoxicating.
with closed eye
and heart wide
come
recognition
and
lamentable liberation.
The Loss.
the overbearing loss
of innocence' power, fades
into victorious failure
blinded by
The Brightness
of the finite,
and the vastness,
of broken things,
until
The Scuttled Shame
coasts intrepid
across fearless seas
wrought with nativité,
vainglory,
and....
come what may.
hard silhouettes carve the dawn sky,
slicing mercilessly through
brush strokes
of what is
to come.
muted flame.
ice & wonder.
another promise
made.
another hope delayed.
cotton rise
over
midnight sky.
lost,
to the familiar
whisper
of time forgot.
lost,
to
dream
and flame, and
a thousand sunsets.
lost,
to the love
i lost in you.
Found,
in my darkness,
forged anew.
beyond
the edges of this world
She rises
high
again.
lifted
by silent song;
lifted, by
our love.
and as
night's wonder
fades into her light,
magic grows
tantalizingly in might.
illusion fades and the darkness retreats
back
into dream,
and
desire.
the gentle caress
of your muted voice
reflects the perfection
of me,
wrapped deep
within the wonder of you.
so
i turn
to kiss
your sky,
with the soft-est
lips,...
trembling,
in surety
of what could come.
and I feel
for your touch.
and,
for me, touching
you.
so
let us dance
like we used to,
when the world was young,
and we were free.
too long
you have waited
for adoring eyes
to once again
adorn you
with gifts
implicit
and
immeasurable,
and
unearned.
too long
have lips quivered rapturously
to breathe,
tales
of your splendor,
and
untested grace.
high
below both star and sun.
deep
within a boundless dream.
you wait
alone
with naught
but hunger
as your friend.
and with this bestial gaze
lowered
in prideful obeisance,
I pray to you.
Sweet Muse,
I pray for you.
secure
in this slimmest sliver
of hesitation,
I listen.
a silvery laugh
peals ethereal,
lighting this
winter's night
with mystery,
beauty,
and fear.
theDeprevation 