Risen vii

I have come here now to be with you
I have escaped through the barbed wire fencing
I have eluded the high night watchmen
I have snaked through the grass on my belly
I have swam through swamps of shit & piss
I have doffed my tattered clothing
I have cleaned up nicely to be with you
I was down
I have risen

Reclaim me.

Risen vi

Proper Sunday best
Not an empty seat left in the House
Elbow to elbow along the walls

The good Reverend and his choir
Preach from the hip
Sing from the gut
The congregation praising &
proclaiming
absoluteness

Room to dance
Room for hands to
exaggerate an angel’s flight
Exaltations
Elevations
Not a single soul left grounded

When the choir hits Hallelujah
Half the city block explodes

    He has risen
    Glory, Glory
    He has risen
    Hallelujah

Risen iv

I was there at your birth
begging you to breathe
And you did
And we cried for the
first time
together

I was there when you
spoke
begging you to stretch those
sounds into
words
And you did
And we smiled

I was there when you
thought you could
stand
And you did

I was begging you to
hold on

I was afraid
you might
fall

And you have
And I’m here
And I’m begging you
Sweet child
to Rise

And you will

I’ve seen you
do it all
before.

Risen iii

The innocence of you
stirs from sleep
with hums & purrs
and overtones sweetly
pitched in fifths of
morning’s wavering roots

A prelude to an opus
I’ve entitled: The Rise Of You

Risen

It’s a time of
rising
The volumes of the
city
The early songs of
nature
My body from its’
ashes

Rise again
slowly
A feeling of
recovery
A new freedom
found
From the shed of old
skin

karimfakhoury.deviantart.com/

The Palm of Your Hand

I have no fear of Death
I’m cupped in comfort in the palm of your hand
The winds aloft swirl violently above me
Your blood’s in magma flow below

Maintaining root, I bloom here often
A valley of one in elysian peace
But clench your fist if I should wrong you
And the palm of your hand becomes my grave.

- poetry

poetry
she awakens me
it wasn’t a dream
after
all

Daydreaming

It’s best to let someone talk
when they’re hurting
So I didn’t say much,
I just sat there and
listened to her…

" My thoughts don’t dance when I miss him…
  When we're together  - yes, they do
  They dance, they twirl, they get
  giddy and lose balance…
  But when I miss him
  they seem to retract to the corners,
  reside in the shadows of uninviting places…

    - Is there a color for Hope?
  I saw yellow once
  but it was only a flash…
  I wound up staggered,
  left eddied in its’ residual…

    - I want to have Hope, I just
  don’t know where to grasp…
  Maybe in the summer - yes!
  I’ll see him in the summer…
  Summer is always filled with
  long flowing yellows… "

And with that, there was silence
And eventually…  daybreak
Without changing an expression
her head fell towards the sun
  She was the light
  She was a shadow
She was a neutral state of Beauty
entering daydreams filled with color
desperately detached from
black-n-white.

used with permission/source: elisabethlaurenisalive.tumblr.com

Mother's Hands

I held her hands as a child
I had to reach up for them
Sometimes I stretched so high my
feet left the ground
Little skips or flying over puddles
Over bugs
Sometimes I think
I even pulled her down

I shoved them away as I got older
Sometimes I shoved so hard they
must have felt broken
and bruised
I never turned around to
see how she was
I never asked if she was hurt
I never offered to help

Those hands never quit on me
They kept reaching out
to lift me over troubles
to help me take flight
They healed from my abuse and
came back stronger
Time & time again
They kept coming back

Sometimes I dream I’m lying in a field
There are no flowers
No wind in my hair
No sky up above
No hills, no valleys
The field is made smooth
no matter where I lie

Just smooth,
And a comfort
of perpetual warmth.

Highlights

Nothing but the past right now
Old cards
Memories
Mementoes

I tried to highlight the
words you wrote that
meant the most

I was blinded
by
yellow

http://www.buttoncompany.co.uk/media/catalog/category/Mac_Yellow.jpg

Bloom

New flower
now
I see you bloom

With all my heart
loud
When with words
fresh petals perfume
& scream your name

Love !

Was there
ever
anything
else?

skytiger.deviantart.com

Describing Beauty

Every artist ran to their craft
the moment she entered the room

Beauty blended blithe musings
   music to poems
   poems to paintings
   paintings to sculptures
   sculptures to dance
Inspired silence
Caught up in her draft

She left us
still undefined.

unknown original source

Truth

the Truth is, Truth is transient
Glorified Beliefs on mobile pedestals

the Truth is, Truth is preceded by
parades of doubt before it’s declared

the Truth is, Truth’s getting smaller
Quarks & photons now oscillating strings

the Truth is, Truth is a liar
I used to love you, now I couldn’t care

Truth is oblique
Truth’s a ghost made of sulfur
Truth’s a spiral
a maze, an implosion

the Truth is, I have
no idea what the Truth is
Maybe, the Truth
just isn’t

original source not found

Snow

Come to me on a Sunday morning in Winter
Come from a traveled distance I’ll never know
Come through winds & depths of snow
  that’ve withered your smile
  and weighed upon your boots

  Flushed & famished
Keep coming to me
As the howling wolves pick up your scent
Keep coming to me
As your heavy steps crack the thin ice
  Keep coming to me

I will be waiting for your brumal whisper
I will be anxious to lighten your load
I will reclaim your ice-blue heart
from Winter’s grip & Calamity’s bluff

I will be waiting
Keep coming to me
I will be patient
Keep coming to me
I will be holding the
  first days of Spring
  for the sweet sight of you
Keep coming to me

  And as you arrive
See the hillsides melt
Feel the crisp air soften
Hear the cracklings of thaw
  Know that you are home
And good love’s still waiting
In the last drift of snow
In a depth you’ll never know.

http://butterflyjman.files.wordpress.com/2010/12/3062807-lg.jpg

You, the sea

You, 
the sea

It’s your shallows that
allured me

Charmed me to your
middle
where I sustain an
equilibrium

Intrigued by the
mysteries of your
d
e
e
p

source: caitlinworthington.com

a Journey into you

Journey across intercostal spaces
Centering to the sternum
Down linea alba
The white line south to a
roundabout navel
Feathery kisses and a
circling tongue

Invoking a moan and the
first signs of surrender
I position my thumbs over
inguinal canals
Resting palms
Wrapping fingers
Breathing warmth upon
unfolding petals

Mons glistening
silk cavern
anticipating
my arrival

I
do
not
disappoint

- for Tara

At night we were a flock heading east away from everything

(This isn’t a simile, no Like or As, This is fact)

We were a flock in fighter formation
V-shaped wingmen
An arrow through the city

We settled for smokes on the Broward County beaches
I caressed your thigh before the rise of the moon
I can still smell your neck
Still feel the blond curls of your hair on my face
And the reach of your hand

We isolated ourselves in sea turtle bunkers
No flight plan submitted
No intended returns

The rest of the scene was a glow from the moon was a sheen on your breast was a soft place for tides

The rest of my life’s been a memory at best been that moment your lips couldn’t incarcerate that sigh.

unknown original source

Hired Help

I hired a few shadows to 
cover me this morning but 
they’re letting me 
down
I can still see my toes & there’s 
sunlight on my
scapula
The heat of it is 
scorching with
blowtorch
precision
Like the accuracy you 
displayed when you 
peered through the
scope
Took aim at my
heart
and shot those 
bullet words through the 
center
I’d hire more shadows but
morning’s depleting the
talent pool
Just enough grey lines to
bandage the 
wound you left open from
Goodbye.

marileekeys.com/shadows on bed

Dirty Sexy Hunter

No, no pretty love today
Let’s dirty sex it up a bit
Tie it down Lick the rim Bite the center
Splash in sins we’ve yet to break
Slip over me Slip onto me and slip away
Recover quick
I’m ready again
The hunter & the
hunted.

wallpaper, unknown original source

Refill

a poem
a scratch mark
pulling skin makes it
bleed
truer words trickle out
fill the cartridge
better ink.

my photo / my stuffs