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

Music

She looked back on all that had gone before and, tonight, somehow it didn’t seem wasted. Perhaps it had been, in many ways, mostly wrong but in the depths the brilliant flashes of light were ever so much more noticeable and precious.

Indeed the night was a lonely one. They were all such nights and yet she did not feel alone this night. She had a new pet spider and an old cat with PTSD that matched hers and they got along. The cat watched the black jumping spider and, uncharacteristic for him, did not attack it. She sent them both thoughts that they were to be friends or at least respect one another.

She sat back and closed her eyes and thought about all the years. Although mostly alone she had managed to be an artist, a musician, a dancer, and a diplomat. In spite of all the wrong she had still been able to love and be loved in return and still managed to want to keep on living though the hand of cards she had been dealt had lost her the poker game of life.

It was still good.

It was still good. She prayed for the world. It seemed it was not going to go on much longer but that also seemed normal. She piloted up to the keyboard and started to write. Who would be the hero of her dreams tonight? She laughed silently and had Yiruma playing in the background. The hospital-like hallway that lead to her clean and orderly abode.

This night was different somehow.

Leaning forward, slightly crooked, she started with the two finger waltz upon the key symbols that worked the magic. She stopped typing the words and let the images roll into her and she stood and untied the knots, in the long skirts, that kept her unsteady old feet from tripping and she stood and the room melted away into night.

In this place there was no cold or heat too much. It was perfection. She closed her eyes and made a wish and smelled the scent of pine and fresh snow. She opened her eyes. She was there. Hawks glided overhead in slow circles on a blue black sky as the sun rose over the peak of a mountain. The valley, still in early pre-dawn shadows, had the sound of roosters crowing and other birds came slowly awake. She raised her hand, young and strong, her arm covered in gold bracelets, to shade out the first stunning brilliance of the day, her head suddenly dropped to pray, the other world forgotten.

“God let me meet him here…”

The man she loved. The man she had never really met. The one who saved her in her dreams within dreams of the other world where she slept. There she was and old lady at the end of things but here she was a young lady at the start of them. Her hair was red gold like it was long ago. The shade of dark honey. She could feel it’s weight in the braid that lay along her spine as she leaned forwards to see the valley start to grow light closest to her feet and slowly crawl down towards the valley floor.

At the bottom, mist covered deep green.

She came here to wait for him all every day and would until her time ran out. She tried to imagine what he looked like as she has seen him in a dream of a dream once a long time ago but now she had almost forgotten. Would she know him if she saw him?

“I have watched you come here every day and never said anything to you and you never could see me except in the sleep of sleeps. You keep asking for me and I am here all the time.”

She turned because she heard him in her head but not with her ears. He was sitting on the edge of a pathway watching the same sun come up and watching her. She walked over and stood behind him. Even sitting her hands rested on his slender shoulders. He was that tall. She watched his hands reach backwards and slide over hers to cover them.

“I have loved you a very long time. You keep looking everywhere and I am right here. I am every man you ever write about. I am all your darkest fantasies and your most brilliant love poetry. I am jealouse of what you imagine when you put different faces on it and when you flirt with other men I come and put a storm in your sky in the place of the sleep of sleeps.”

She could not hear him but she could HEAR him!

His hair was the shade of pale wheat. It was tied back in a long thin braid that also went down his back. Not thin hair but very straight, the opposite of hers. He let go of her hands and ‘told’ her to sit next to him.

By this time the flat, white rooftops of a large city spread out in the slowly seeping light. She slid down and sat next to him, hanging her feet, wearing golden sandals, off the edge of the pathway. It never occurred to her why she was this way here in this reality. She looked over at him.

He was not beautiful the way she understood beauty. He was very pale. His eyes were larger than normal and very black and his face was long and thin and his mouth very small. He was so thin that, had he been human, he would have looked starved yet on him, a spirit, it looked perfectly normal. Perhaps the oddest thing was the fact that she was the size of a small child when she sat next to him and she edged closer and fit there like a child would fit and it felt so safe. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt and it looked weird on him and he laughed in her mind, “I can appear any way you want me to appear but this way I find the most comfortable. You want me to be Cinnamon?”

She kept looking at him and he suddenly had brown eyes and olive skin and was wearing a red-brown kameez. Almost blond hair and a long dark beard. They were near the same height. She reached out and the illusion vanished and then he was taller with black eyes and a huge smile and fine features with curly crispy dark hair and a white starched cotton shirt and then that too went away as he morphed all the faces she ever loved.

“Whatever makes you happy. I can be that but I want you to love me. The real me.” Once more he was the abnormally tall humanoid with black eyes and blond hair. “This is not me either but I this is how I came to you the night you wanted to die. I love you. You have belonged to me since the day you were born and if you think you are 100 percent human you are mistaken. For now you have a life to live in the sleeping time of the sleeping world but when it is done you will be with me forever.”

He stood and opened his arms. She came into them and he became insubstantial and merged with her very soul. No humans love this way. Without words she felt like the most beautiful queen earth ever knew. She felt like the love of thousands was directed at her and she heard him say, deep in her mind as he took her hand and walked a few steps on the path with her,

“You are all these things and more and this is just the beginning. You are loved beyond human measure.” She closed her eyes to swim in that sea of love and opened them and smiled.

Yiruma was playing. The room in the world of sleeping was cheerful and bright and she sat there, mused, in front of the key board, now old with mended clothes and painful frame but back in reality was a land of beauty that would be hers one day.

“I love you too.” she whispered.Featured Image -- 3297

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

Big Pharma

She went for the job interview at the pharmacy and they said the last part was a lie detector test.

(She never forgot this it haunted her all her life.)

She was trying hard to find a job but no one believed she was. They thought she was trying to sabotage it so no one would ever hire her. People in her own family had no idea how hard she tried.

She had just lost a job as a waitress because she could not remember the seating of the tables fast enough and everyone chided her,

“You read so fast and you are so smart and yet you can’t even recall the placement of tables in a restaurant? You MUST be lying!”

‘Liar’

All the time she heard that word over and over like the words ‘witch’ and ‘crybaby’ and ‘loser’ and the list of words was endless. She was trying to get a job in the local pharmacy with the ‘shi shi’ girls. She really thought she could do it and the interview went so well….

She went into the office where they did the lie detector stuff and decided to be totally honest no matter what they asked. She did not rehearse anything. They hooked her up and she was terrified of the gadgetry but managed to mask her face. This was IT. She had to do well!

The man kept trying to get a reading. He adjusted the gear. He adjusted the terminals. He shook his head. He set the operation up twice and that made her even MORE nervous. Surely this was not going to wrong! She had failed so many times. She didn’t know why she was so smart and so stupid at the same time. All she knew was that most people hated her, jeered at her, or ignored her in embarrassment.

“What’s your name?”

She told him the truth.

Have you ever done drugs?

She told him the truth.

Every question she answered with bald honesty and he shook his head again and cut the interview short. He would not answer any questions.

She lost the job.

She went to the pharmacist and asked him point blank why she didn’t get the job. Her papa made her do it because he wanted to know what she was doing wrong in the interviews so that she could get a job.

“Why didn’t I get the job?” she asked the pharmacist.

“Well…” he looked down almost ashamed…”Well you lied about everything.”

“But I didn’t lie! You know my name and family and the answers! You know them before I gave them! The test was just incidental you know I answered truthfully YOU KNOW ME! My name is Mary Shannon McCloskey and I answered EVERY QUESTION with total honesty!”

He looked almost embarrassed and said, “I know you answered honestly but we can’t employ someone who thinks they are lying about their own name.”

She looked at the girls behind the pharmacy counter. All beautiful. All with perfect hair and teeth and smiles. The pharmacist reached out and scraped his finger on her nose. She hated that because her nose is what everyone made so much fun of. Her flat chest and her huge nose. He waved his finger in her face.

“Blackheads. You have blackheads.”

She dropped her head and went out to her papa’s sedan. She told him the truth. “They say I am a liar. I told them my real name and they say I am a liar. I told them the truth and they say I am a liar.”

Her papa’s face looked sardonic.

“You are a liar.”

She went back later to ask for that job if it wasn’t taken. There was an older woman behind the counter.

Ruth.

Ruth was not beautiful on the outside but she was on the inside and she watched that girl-who-always-failed ask for that job and called her over,

“Hun. I want to hire you.”

She looked over at the shi shi girls in their ivory tower and she looked at the hot grill and the bacon press and the soda fountain. She squared her shoulders and said, “Yes I will work for you.”

It was the first real job she was ever good at. She wasn’t very good at it at first but the clientele of one of the last ice-cream soda parlours in America were forgiving. Ruth did not mind her screw ups and soon she was the best damn grill cook ever and, at the end, could open and close the whole little corner on her own but every day she had to LOOK at the people she was ‘less than’.

One day she said a cuss word loud enough to hear it. She didn’t mean anything bad by it.

That old pharmacist came sailing around the corner and started to yell at her about using bad language in front of all the shi shi girls and the customers and everything. She lost it. She cried so hard that everyone in the store left. She forced the pharmacist to let her call her papa to come get her on the public telephone. She sat out on the curb for two hours and when he got there she was finished crying.

Dry as a dead bone in a desert. She had nothing to say to anyone for two days.

He was angry but not surprised. Why should he be surprised? She was a loser.

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

She Sings the Words Alone

  1. He sent them:
    To me, all beautiful women
    He could have for a smile
    Or a quest like war
    Killing love for it’s own sake
    “Still I wanted him
    To love me.”
    She sang the words
  2. Suspended,
    Before the chase
    Blood covenants spilled and broken
    For promises
    For kingdoms
    Twist yours into mine
    “Birth these devils for us
    Double blade inside you
    All your life.”
    She sings the words
  3. My heart hold itself now
    For a song
    She sang words I dreamed
    She belonged where I wanted to be
  4. Now a snake awakens
    Rattles shaking
    Bare your smile for the kill she sings
  5. He never wanted me
    My own hands caress my soul
    I ride my own horse
    I write my own place
  6. He can say
    He did
  7. He believed it too
    She sang a song
    That emptied his chances
  8. To keep me forever
    Greek chanting chorales to the play
    “I am the alien .” she sings the words,
    “Winds and thunderstorms
    Make love to me.”
  9. Background noises
    Sounds of men who used to be
    Passed into yesterday
    Epic even though they fell
    For other loves
    I do not even own my own
    It flies
  10. Lost
  11. Over dark continents
    Seeking
    Learning
    That nothing is worth
    The pain of everything she sang
    Words carried drops of confusion
    Smelling
    Of old perfume and inverted logic
  12. Really it was men
    Stumbling in a giants footsteps
    Trying to walk
    In prints to big to fill
    Carrying a broken heart
    Before she broke
    She sang the words
    I put into her mouth to sing
  13. She came near
    Once she filled my nose
    With the smell of sweat
  14. Now she sings the words
  15. No one ever really heard them
    Humans don’t know
    How to hear the aliens
    The glory of life swells
    It plays arias of love
    It plays with hearts
    Letting out the life
  16. Stopping
    Each beat forced
    Ideas ripped away
    She sings the words for angels
  17. Juxtaposition
    A punishment of words she sang
    Breath hurts the chest
    Tight
    Notes shot from taut strings
    Sounds killing
    Metal tipped destroyers
  18. My own soul I love alone
    I eat alone
    I drink it’s blood alone
    I sign it’s agreement
    In blood by myself
  19. The roar of crowds is for others
    Men worshipping are not for me
    They no longer worship God
    They worship Giants
    They worship youth and strength
    They worship beauty and power
    Yearning for magic
    Quicken your feet
    They are walking

You Are Loved

Silent fog
Without sound
Morning light
Evening creeping
Clear cold black rising
Light pulsing
Why do I care
When I meet you
Through crystal prisms
You are loved
Warrior again walks the skies
Into the blanket of night
Holding myself
Composing unheard songs
Where care is never returned
Someday when time ends
Rituals
Left in the dust
In my arms
Dreaming of Life
Symbols
Giving love
Teaching
Slowing bit by bit
Alone
Even in the sunlit day
Cymbals stuttered once now lost
Being lived somewhere
Flingers now clack keys
In the soulless universe
Who will recall my words
Left behind
There are always stars
The strings
Between these layers
Ringing no more
Crying
Don’t leave me here
Unheeded nor needed

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.

Words Words Words

No sleep no
Sleep no sleep
How can you love me

I understand me not
No no no no so it goes
On on on the hours pass by

Alone alone alone fall fall
Almost like we fight while smiling
Or maybe you are water

Moving easily around the obstacles I throw
These humpty dumpty beats of my heart
Looking for a certain grin

From far away and long ago
Was it sounding wobbled flautists
Curling notes back from core notes peeled

Like boiled eggs never hatched
Go go go swaying away
Like the old fashioned ladies stalking flower pots

Beats beats beats this fist of flesh with every
Word word word swaying today
Gone gone gone staccato stately slide

In a gliding road winding forwards always
Here here here is where is was all erased
Whisper softly those words

They terrify me more than death
Love means you suffer
Until the words

Words words words of this day eight years ago
Were finally fulfilled

Dear WordPress,

There is an option at Facebook, that some enterprising souls have come up with, to make your Facebook a hard or soft print copy of all your activity. It only disallows ‘Notes.’ (That is the only thing I would spend money on to have reproduced from that site.)

Is there any way that the same thing could be offered here for a similar price and if it already is offered can anyone tell me how to access it?

The offering at Facebook runs on the number of pages reproduced. The cost runs a rough 75.00 to 200.00 to publish one ‘book’ depending on the format. I would rather publish what I have here and pay for that than I would my Facebook Status set.

I would have contacted you in the “Howdy” pop up box but it is down for the hols.

So what say y’all?

You want any money for a print form of my stuff?

Signed,

Me