Promises

I lived so many lives
But none of them were real
They belong to someone else
Who I can barely feel
I made promises I broke
Trying to be free
Many promises were broken
That had been made to me
At the strangest breaking
Point typing this alone
All the years are taking
All the memories gone
Living in a record
That sputters while I write
The moment but a second
No morning and no night
In spite of all the evil
In suffering is grace
I could never thank The God
Enough prostrate on my face
For every bad that came
Was also something good
Everything I didn’t get was still
Exactly as it should
Have been no matter how
Difficult the journey
There were time of joy so huge
Despair fought with at tourney
For every time that life is born
Comes with struggle screaming
All the horrors of real life
Are healed while I am dreaming

The Ones We Never Get

The most epic loves are the ones we never get.

I say this, not to take away from those relationships that people have throughout their lives because it takes a deep and spiritual love to stay the course with someone for 40 or 50 years and forgive the horrendous things humans do to each other, but I say this in the sense of the idea of a kind of dream-like purity that transcends the ordinary. Of this unrequited love the stuff of epic myth and romance comes. Beethoven composed ‘Fur Elise’ and Edgar Allan Poe wrote ‘Annabelle Lee’ for these reasons.

But it isn’t always about who dies. Death can also be metaphorical. A person can spend a lifetime at the altar of Love and never have ‘it’ as ‘It’ is understood from time immemorial. The Kama Sutra was written by monks living on a mountaintop.

The love you never get is exquisite. It takes on a life of it’s own and it becomes a part of the definition of who we are as we project ourselves onto it in a way that could never be if we had to live with it’s human counterpart every day. It is never indecorous. It is the perfection of Galatea. It never grows old. We may grow old but it lives inside our brains like a diyah light in a dark and endless Alone. It is the companion of the old, the poor, and the forgotten. It is the muse of poets and artists and it is the reason why the one no one wants, smiles, for no reason, in the flow of uncaring Life.

This is the love that sings chorus after chorus of the impossible and rides the crest of dreams. It is the Voice of the self that seeks to belong to itself and it is the desire to give freely of the secrets you have made of the epic nothingness you shaped into beauty. It is the unspoken savagery of lust and the soaring flights of purity and it sings the whole range from bass to soprano with one throat.

It looks at the world from a thousand faces so lovely and yet so unaware of their own beauty and it holds them like gems, uncaring they be glass or diamonds. Yet with millions of words there is no way to describe how this great love feels in it’s totality of expression from the depths of the sewers to the roof of the skies.

The love you never get cannot be owned, It can’t be traded or tossed away or forgotten. It will find you while you cry over what was lost and take your hand and lead you into a new tale. It is never wasted time. For some it is all they will ever have. The love that was never conquered is like nature in it’s pristine and untamed state: lovely and devastating.

It makes you joyous you can still feel the depths of loss even as you get up out of the pool of tears and keep on going.Roses

I Will

I seek the hands reaching
Eyes seeing only the dirt below

I grab your unsuspecting hand
A part of you will desire to run
A part of you will desire to run with me

A pulse jumps through your palm
Moving the hairs

Chilled

Night aires playing
With stars in your head
Rewriting old words with trails of light
As beautiful and new
As they were five million years ago
When we tracked the trails of heaven
Through Sumerian skies

This short disgusting lovely thing
We call ‘life’
It is the epic of the Universe
Permeating every layer of existence

Come with me
Let these hands linked reach past the edge
Above and below
A force to my magma
Fires of the skies
Oceans full
Glowing

Be my song
Be the smile life writes on my face
And I will write you as the hero
At the apex of the arches
Triumphal

The grass will be thick and soft
Hillsides will be gentle
You are all existence
I am the void

Together we are majestic
Together we are beauty

It’s time to go now
I will let go of you
Like I have let go of every teacher
Who was a student at the doors of my heart
You will slip into the void
From fantasy into concrete
Your feet will walk
Where things are hard

This is how it is
When we fly

To know
What shakes the abyss with madness
To bathe
In what fills all space with light
Living inside the surface
Of an iridescent bubble

I orbit your sun
You shine on my face
Nothing held back

Nothing

Facebook Asks Me…

…What’s on my mind?

Fantasy
Sexual odes to Love,
Iridescent bubbles,
Slow dancing with angels,
Infatuated euphoria,
Transforming,
Music that makes me smile,
Writing love songs to my beloved
Sprung full grown from my brain
After giving me a headache

What’s on my mind…

Dark eyes filled with stars,
Leather and sheesha,
Galloping across the plains,
Mountains in the distance,
Hawks on our wrists,
Flung skywards
Full of prayers

What’s on my mind…

Deep blue evening,
Round pebbles making water speak,
Hung around your neck
Wear me,
And I will wear you,
Leaning on the tree to big to move,
Breathing in you
Breathing out you
In and out moving
Into darkening
Cool

What’s on my mind…

The room The screen The words The end.