A green chaplain to trees
nurtures Her root systems
and dancing
prancing branches
Preaching
reaching deeply
into shared 0-soul trunks,
circling spinal enthusiastic core
Breathing
circulating annual rings
of growing communion
Potential win/win performance
musing resonance
amusing musical engagement,
brilliant resilience.
Perhaps you're apathetic to my ministrations
fatigued by my futile attempts at suturing
the suppurating wounds inflicted by others
who came before me much like those I suffer
both of our spirits bearing similar scars
Upon removing the bandages to reveal
they have not healed and rankle raw and red
I turn my head not in disgust at the pus
but so you won’t see the tears I shed
on account of my failure before binding them
once again in clean linen after applying a balm
of my best efforts that in spite of their sincerity
will never be enough thus my own injuries
I’ve clumsily dressed will continue to fester
and decay without the catholicon physic
of those three words you cannot say
It is early one morning,
and you are making love to me.
Sunshine is streaming through the curtains
and I am disinterested in your ministrations.
I wonder
if we could ever be soft people.
Lazily enjoying the sunshine,
stretched out on our picnic blanket.
There is a plate of sandwiches between us,
half of them have been eaten.
We are comfortably full,
and you don’t take it the wrong way.
There is a pitcher of sweet tea,
you tell me you found it tangled up
in the roots of your family tree.
You lean in to kiss me,
and it is gentle
and you don’t use your tongue.
You feel like August, you know.
One glorious ending to a beautiful summer.
But the summer was hot and humid
I was nothing if not miserable,
but I’ll always miss the summer we spent together,
sunburnt to hell
with your hand upon my throat.
You are mad at me,
I cannot perform in the way you wish,
you cry and blame yourself
It’s because you are not pretty enough,
Not feminine enough.
you say this is important
the ultimate way to express our love
I close my eyes
and dare to wonder
When did love become so violent?
My master
Your hand around my neck
You tug on my hair
As I moan for more
I've never felt such pleasure
Your tongue and hands
Reaching every inch of my skin
I'm not thinking at all
Your lips on my skin
As you tie me up
Spanked with a whip
As your fingers slide lower
For your in charge
As I beg for you to rub me
Harder and faster
For you are my master
I'm screaming at this point
For the pleasure you again from the pain
Drives you insane in
I can feel it in your ministrations
As you tease
In the hopes to please
Before I realise
You are lodged inside
Our moans mingle together
As our sweet game comes to an end
And slumber takes over
Held behind cold stone walls,
In silence, marched to work.
The shabby dressed walked prison halls,
Hell waits for those who shirk.
Breaking rocks or picking rope,
Naught to eat save gruel and bread,
Pointless toil, devoid of hope,
Here worked the living dead.
Mornings in the chapel praying,
The gathered wincing at the drops,
The hangman had the condemned swaying,
Yet more unworthy souls now cropped.
The chaplain looking down his nose,
He could better use his ministrations,
The faithless sat in squalid rows,
(As he prayed for a better station.)
Ne'er has a place been so bleak,
Nor seen more fear and woes,
If the Devil sought out company,
It would be here he chose.
I feel you like a gaping wound,
A great fetid, gangrenous maw
That will never close.
I feel you eating me alive,
Your disease,
Penetrating brain and bone
Psyche and soul.
Leaving me twisted, broken
Decrepit and defiled.
Your love is vile.
You whisper promises
To spiders and flies
Of my stone-dead corpse
Rotting in silence
Amid decaying forgotten things.
Gladly,
I kissed your putrescent lips,
I tasted your sanguine affection,
Ingested your infection.
You have become my drug.
My life.
Loathsome,
Yet I love you still.
Lost in your mephitic grace,
Wasted.
I wait…
You are the shine that blinds
And distracts me from the pain
Of your ministrations,
Your manipulations.
You sing and caress
As your virus oozes through my veins,
Burning away all that I am.
You kiss and cajole me
Into believing that this is love.
Lust.
I feel your desperate hunger
As you burrow deeper inside me,
Hollowing my heart
For your carnal pleasure.
It feels like love.
Your emptiness feels like home.
Gentle wind, please
Go not from me.
Rather hold me in thine uplifting arms.
For thy tender ministrations are my sustenance
Each satin, sweet caress a blessing.
Bold wind, please
Go not from me.
Rather wrap me in whirlwinds' chaos
That play with my garments and tease at my hair
Flowing over, around and through me like a river
Storm wind, please
Go not from me.
Rather entwine me in thy heart
Let me feel thy power, to lay waste and to rend.
Then, when my body fails, rend from it my soul
That it may fly always with the wind
My lover is the sea
Her ecstasy the tide
My ministrations the moon
She crashes into my shore
And I pull her
Push her
Move her
I lost my virginity to the sky
Waltzed beneath her storm
Naked and frantic and breathless
The thunder her heartbeat
Lightening the sparks between us
Our nights are full of fire
At once raging
And comforting
Her touch burns
My skin flaming beneath her fingers
She turns me to ash
Breathes life into my remains
Melts my blood into glass
And shatters my soul into art
12/6/17
sometimes when you come
and i'm hardly aware of your presence
a warmth that spreads
envelopes me
a well being
in my heart
tranquility transcending
little by little
gentle caresses
bring an awakening
and i know
it's you
i succumb
to your ministrations
feeling the changes
you bring
quiet till you've had you fill
i lie still
feeling your movement inside
content in the knowledge
i will bear fruit
other times you shake me
a forceful wind
you bend and move me and sway
how you play me
want to slay me
i'm helpless in your grip
you rampage and rage
manifesting your power
you make sure i'm aware
you're here
there
your everywhere
you claim as i quiver
all other thoughts cease
as i wait for release
when your done fulfilling your need
and i am left alone
alone to reel, to relive, to reveal
however you come,
inspiration
you leave me...undone
naked
in heightened state of awareness
that only is subdued
when i've fully released
all that's left of you
my life peaks and thrills
with your every visit
be it frenzied or calm
at dusk or at dawn
whenever u come
i live
i live
Eileen Manassian
I look you up and look you over,
better days have left you far behind,
you're older, but to me you're still appealing,
yet you draw comments that are less than kind.
You're neglected, not consulted,
when an answer is required,
hidden now behind the others,
avoided, disregarded, mired.
I massage your spine with oil and friction,
restoring your luster to cherish and keep,
remembering when you were readily handled,
sought after, popular, top of the heap.
I'm so busy these days with my key restorations,
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say,
so you'll have to hold on for my deft ministrations,
a labor of love, postponed for a better day.
I look you up and look you over,
better days have left you far behind,
you're older, but to me you're still appealing,
yet you draw comments that are less than kind.
You're neglected, not consulted,
when an answer is required,
hidden now behind the others,
avoided, disregarded, mired.
I massage your spine with oil and friction,
restoring your luster to cherish and keep,
remembering when you were readily handled,
sought after, popular, top of the heap.
I'm so busy these days with my key restorations,
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say,
so you'll have to hold on for my deft ministrations,
a labor of love, postponed for a better day.
Nourished in the dirt
Poison absorbed
Breathe out number eight
Life from high above
Leaves raised to the sun
Nourished in the Word
All sin absolved
Sing out holy praise
Life through Awesome love
Hands raised to the Son
Planted and grown
For plenty of uses:
Adventure, climb
Quick door decorations
Fire’s fuel from wood
Beloved and known
So no more excuses:
Love-law is prime
Sick, poor ministrations
Prayers oft we should
He was there recumbent like a log
Cancer has culminated,prevailing over him
Enfeebled all his shielding apparatuses
Yet spurned to frolic prolongation
Eschewed palliative care ministrations
He detected the vital prognosis was engaged
He had instead to plough money into God's certitude
For he realized HE implements nothing fortuitously
Could he yet afford to acquit himself otherwise
Engage in a battle lost right from the dawn ?
Arm, lightly wrapped
in the soft grasp of your paws
Hand, gladly receiving
the tender ministrations of your raspy tongue
We lie together on the floor
with the November sun bathing us
in its subtle warmth
and I say thank you,
to our gentle God
for these small
pleasures
I look you up and look you over,
better days have left you far behind,
you're older, but to me you're still appealing,
yet you draw comments that are less than kind.
You're neglected, not consulted,
when an answer is required,
hidden now behind the others,
avoided, disregarded, mired.
I massage your spine with oil and friction,
restoring your luster to cherish and keep,
remembering when you were readily handled,
sought after, popular, top of the heap.
I'm so busy these days with my key restorations,
I scarcely have time, and I don't have a say,
so you'll have to wait for my deft ministrations,
a labor of love, postponed for a quieter day.
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