My Firefly Heart 

 
 
 
 
My firefly heart burns cold
flickers of remorse, holy haunts, nomadic pain.
My firefly heart throbs brilliant; but you don’t listen,
don’t see or hear, disdain to know. 
Mirror of my flickering, 
occult darkness churns terror.
Ardent beat at your doors and windows, ignored. 
My firefly heart yearns to flight, always onward,
never resting, rhythm beating ever further.
Never silent, alive to passing
wonders flickering light and dark and
ablaze, colors so bright so
breathtakingly heartbreakingly.
My firefly heart beats into a thousand rays
striking stratosphere.  
Emergent sun, effulgent rainbow,
beatific, pulsing glow,  and
How can I make you see?
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metawakening

 
 
 
Sharal the Hunter runs from the Warrior of Destruction. 
She has lost all honour, all reason, all possessions but the skins that  cover her.
 
Her village burns, all she has known forever ashes. 
This ought to be a phantom nightmare.
Here, now, it is horribly … overwhelming.
Heart, blood, breath, these are what matter understands.
 
Mind is elsewhere, screamed into submission, reptilian —
Heart, blood, breath.
Tremors reverberate,
shake tree limbs, waver
vision.  Desolate chaos waits ahead.
 
Grabbing strength enough to veer,
steer clear,
running thoughtless through loss.
Warily accepting alliance to uncharted,
new.
Unencumbered by long held terrors,
expectations.
Ready by necessity to make do,
to start from simplest principles.
Who am I, today?
Tomorrow will take care
of itself.

Lunch hour

 
 
 
 
 
Peeking through the stacks, owl eyes, unblinking,
silently interrogate.
Half twist to grasp that diligently sought title – turn back,
phantom eyes gone.
Disturbance unanswered.
Loud burble and spike, like arrogant gas
rumbles.  I must mask errant squeaks, lest they speak ill.
Such a day demands no allowances for happenstance.
Questions and pleasures must wait their turn, ride the
circular queue.
Back in the stacks, eyes bent, arms loaded,
warily unbalanced.
Anxiety whispers too loudly.
Owls fly, swoop, grab, devour.
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Born Dancing

 
 
 
 
Every fist wave,
every gurgle, every smile,
reveals her rhythm.
Body sprouts.
A tangle working out.  Hips swaying,
hands, face undulate textured stories.
What matters to her agile brain is always
the shape of emotion.
Hormone harmonies express with every
arch, dip swirl.
“If you want to be your best,
nimbly pirouette personal space,
approach every stranger with grace,
embody notes and beat of your theme.”
 
It was tragic, the way she was broken.
Yet, despite her spine’s grim
disrepair,
vibrant energy sustains, her dancing
mind alive and aware.
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Urban Circus

 
 
 
 
 
Bright lights extend beyond the scope of sight.
Dramas play out against 
    bold traffic’s blare.
A dizzy sense of power pervades the night.
Caught up in spotlight 
        fraught with public glare,
we myriad performers act out in bounds — 
a circus squared by concrete, bricks and glass.
The streets, their high tech urban sounds
singing electric chorus to the mass,
awaken yearnings, fantasies released;
new projects and old lusts see flight.
 
But, bright lights do not the total story tell.
A city’s underside is lit in shame.
When daylight’s order sounds its evening knell
chaos imps devise a different game.
To disregard these jousts of urban war
would not do justice to subservient pain,
designated winning/losing scores.
Where many lust for wealth that few may gain
poverty seldom rests in leisured peace.
Shell-shocked youth roam their nights in hell.
 
A merry trickster prances through the crowds,
releasing smiles, enjoining folk to dance,
exuding laughter that dispels all clouds,
turns the mood distinctly toward romance.
In low-lit cafes, strobe-lit discos, too,
twosomes stroke and flaunt their partners’ charms;
on garish streets and hidden alleys woo,
delighting in caressing lovers’ arms.
All daytime’s trials forgotten for this while, 
buried ‘neath lust’s crimson, silken shrouds
 
An act played out so many times before:
Young lovers meet in secret rendezvous.
They pledge their love along the river’s shore.
But, what!  A third’s been added to the two.
A jealous rival swears to end their tryst.
He comes prepared for battle with a knife.
And plunges with such vicious twist
to break a heart and end another’s life.
Turning to the maiden an evil smile,
he hears not what she dares implore.
 
Tomorrow’s headlines may retrace the tale.
And law’s swift retribution cage the cur.
But now it’s midnight in the jail
where scoundrels scheme of what they never were.
The street throngs laugh, in colorful array.
They have no thought of morning’s dreary chores.
They’ve many hours still ’til break of day.
Many hours to drink and woo and score.
Warm nights are made for madness and release
of lust from daylight’s cautious veil.
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My Pet Goddess

 
 
 
 
We ride creative waves.
Chaste Goddess child, frisky muse
picks daisies, pilfers beehives. 
Sweet as to please
deities craving
for innocence.
Secret games whisk us
to deep intimacy.
Supernatural companion, she
comforts me, familiar with these
cycles of light and dark
responsibility —
cosmic irony.
Mother’s reward.
Father’s Hetaera.
Beloved of mordant Destiny.
Beguiling affection, she cuddles
into my simple, abyssal fears.
She licks the eyelids of my
inner vision, coaxes me open.
Together we transcend
hierarchy,
frolic
dimensions between.
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Self-Promotion

 
 
 
That was about pulling out
splintered agony.
Grab malignant litany.
Cut it clean,
discovering freedom
within
acceptance of pain.
Now is a different terrain.
A seeker’s quest, deeper layers of essence.
Unfathomed firmament foundation exudes
succulent spice.
Aeons diving for pearls beyond price,
metaphoric treasures
fashioned on shores of paradise,
sunlit gleams and promises.
Slow rise, serpentlike, sleek, shameless.
Protective mountain caves hide
glistening jewels, elicit dangerous
exploration.
Cockfights, tragedies,
crusades.
Slaughtering geese, expecting
to own golden eggs — what comedy!
Shake well with laughter;
at last, relief!
In private sleep dwells
mystery
ever changing,
ever entrancing.
It’s a little game I play,
describing shades of ecstasy.
Transcribe the coin of nether land,
obtaining meaning.
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another road song

 
 
 
 
Not all mothers are loving.
Not all grandmas are kind.
Maybe DNA can’t carry hate;
deep toxins can torture small minds.
Damage so common needs careful respect.
Shared bleedings may lead to connection.
Expand brain and heart:
forge far-reaching art.  Spite
blighted start.  Embrace concentration,
consecration to a sane desire.
What would that require?
 
Can I entice a widening gyre?
Whirlwind romance,
neural ecstasy, words of heresy —
whatever fantasy corresponds with relief.
I would be honored to dwindle your grief,
devour your fear, sweep your road clear,
apply tinder to kindle our fire.
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I remember (shadows)

 
 
 
 
Mother mine,
I tried to mother you.
what did you do?
You lashed me from behind,
whipped with projected anger.
Denied kind eyes and smiles.
Reviled I endanger your real child,
who followed, resembling you.
Resentful of fate’s unfaithful promises,
offer in sacrifice firstborn goat kid’s exile.
No regrets.  No graveside confession
of adoration or apology.  I have learned to be
creator of my own obsessive mind.
 
 
It doesn’t matter that mother lied,
that daddy died, brother decried, sister defiled.
What matters is you grabbed back and mind,
resolved to fly, reached for the sky,
actually took hold.
What matters is you’re neither owed nor owned.
What matters is the realm you claim as home
you define.

 

tidal attraction/traffic jam

 
tidal attraction
 
 
Is the tide coming in
to wash my footprints
from the shore?
I must dance up a storm,
harness the last of my power,
manifest
hedonistic abandon
enticing Poseidon
to encompass my cause.
 
 
traffic jam
 
 
Flitting along swift edge of highway
scarf maroon and grey grasps/releases
miasma-blue sky. Attention compromised,
an eye blink.
Hill slippery  under
sprinkle of green magenta leaves.
Theater neon insinuates
bright flashes.
Distant lightning.
Winds whip, sing
chaos
prophecies.
Anxious scans past adjacent shoreline.
Waves break,
reveal snaps of treasure.
Once, walking barefoot over
city glass and excrement.
Twice, made to kneel in pain
disguised as genuflection.
Thrice, cautioned against
river crossing due to corrosive
waste.
No clear, well-illumined path
presents
enablement, empowerment, entitlement.
Symbols convey histories
up the hill,
over the horizon,
through the crowded thoroughfare
caught up in fleeting thought
stopped in a clog of traffic.
 
Signpost in the fog.
Thick dry-ice blue billow emits formulations.
Liminal, portals
rise back, diminish time,
disarrange context.
Sear of light, brutal panic.
Quiet.  High-pitched sonic
memories
badger through, bleat, repeat.
Hungry dogs of shame,
howl, mewl, sickening
sly reprisal.
Regurgitated, bilious
taunts, trolling rejection, rolling for wealth
each imagined filthy projection.
Exit demands change in lieu of judgment.
It could all disappear at any moment.
Or appear quite differently attired.
Rise, plunge.
Magnificent purples, reds, violets explode.
Spray painted backdrop
sets the stage.
Each prop in orderly procession,
decision granted,
lines move forward
as the next random impasse
progresses, coalesces.
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