Messy? A child at home word.
Not this crone's, outside.
Whose own litter, leaf ,log-felled
When least by repelled.
Whilst strewed with shrieked delight, not
Demented fury!
And heard, laughed for us, as sore;
Kicked through; and jumped o'er!
knowing all is one
why’re we not undone
attracted, repelled
name of God misspelled
ego’s the fault line
but since we’re divine
our void-centric view
let’s bliss beats renew
seeing God in all
we’ll then never fall
since spirit not form
exudes His love warm
let us not be lax
correct parallax
viewing auric fields
as power God wields
Nobody reaches out to me,
Few people ever call,
Every boy is repelled by me,
And no one catches me when I fall.
People tell me they hate when I join their conversation,
But there’s more they don’t see,
I have to insert myself,
Because nobody talks to me.
My artwork is criticized,
“You aren’t even good at art” they say,
They do anything to make me hate myself,
Because it makes their day.
I eat lunch alone,
While everyone else has a friend,
They tell me making friends takes effort,
But my friendships always have a bitter end.
My “friends” walk out on me,
They see me as another person to taunt,
I know now that I’m the elephant in the room,
I’m the one nobody wants.
What we hear
What we say
What we remember in our way
What goes in?
What comes out?
What we show when we are in doubt
What we think
What we feel
What is fake from what is real?
What we smell
What we touch
What tells the body it has had too much?
What we swallow
What we know
What helps or stops things that might grow?
What we inhale
What we expel
What is deflected and repelled?
What is soiled?
What is clean?
What is the spectrum that is seen?
What is open?
What is closed?
What gets stopped when we let things go?
What is caught?
What is released?
What channels seal our inner peace?
What is discussed?
What is believed?
What gets through to let us breathe?
Sometimes, in uncertain outcomes, as life agitates,
It can sway either way, maneuvering on the edge,
For a difference rather modest, makes the final call,
When a narrow margin determines a win or a loss.
If a win we choose to celebrate, or defeat we deride,
Prudent to bear in mind, that it wasn’t a landslide;
When results are so close, why not cheer them all,
Cognizant to recognize~ distinction is awfully small.
Slender is the layer between eve’s dusk and twilight,
Between dark of dawn, and luminance of sunrise;
Between safe and danger, there lies a narrow divide,
Where, between cliff and fall, life’s border resides.
Mementos of love embraced, and love sadly repelled,
In albums of beloved, or memories forlorn dwell,
Clamoring from corridors of good or bad choices made,
Between narrow margins of hope, and contours of fate.
O, a narrow margin can be of mighty consequence
Inhabiting elation of success, or anguish of regrets,
When death lingers in the clutches of final moments
Stilled between breath inhaled, and breath exhaled.
Watching the snowflakes
Gently glide through the chilly air
Watching the snowflakes
Slowly combine and fall together
This one snowflake flew into my hands
It melted and drip out of my palm.
Why are my hands so destructive?
Whatever is in my grasps ends up disappearing.
I started to think about you and I.
We were snowflakes floating in the wind.
We were so close and became one
We split apart now, and I lost you.
Once the wind settles down
Maybe I’ll find you.
Instead I hit the ground
And started to melt apart.
I became water to become flexible to find you
You became ice because you repelled me
I came crashing and rushing to find you
While you were tranquil but so rigid
Instead of melting together
You pierced through me
And I evaporated away.
I took shape of any vessel you desired.
I kept changing who I was.
I tried to be what you wanted.
Instead, I lost myself trying to find you.
Coming Out
Comfort and meaning can be found
In the draping of rainbow flags
And the joyous stupor of marching
Alongside understanding strangers.
Absolved of the sin of lying,
She now stands free.
A new kind of love blooms within her,
Big as a bright yellow sunflower
And purer than Alpine snow.
Anxiety
Breathe in, breathe out.
The crawling of the skin is real,
Repelled by the way
Prying eyes touch and poke and prod.
Even if nobody stares, everybody stares.
Breathe in, breathe in.
If she breathes out the skin will crawl again.
Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in,
And hold.
Depression
No difference now
Between her lifeless, shallow-breathing visage
And the stains on the walls
Left behind by negligence.
Tired eyes follow ticking time
As it slips right by her,
Through the crack in the window
And into the cacophony
Of urban joy beyond.
In the arid grasp of a withered plant,
The hive appears forlorn, its dryness stark,
Yet within lies the nectar all relish and want,
Nourishing sustenance, a feast to embark.
A facade of chaff and wax, so unassuming,
A fragrant lure that entices the birds,
They gather eagerly, their beaks consuming,
Sputtering and squawking, their appetites spurred.
Satiated and vibrant, they clumsily take flight,
Leaving behind a fragrance that lingers in air,
Other creatures in spiral attraction alight,
Drawn to the honey, sticky and rare.
The bees, encouraging, they dance and they sway,
Surrounding the hive with a sense of calm,
Fire and vermin repelled, kept at bay,
As bees collect honey, sweet and warm.
But hidden within this cycle of bliss,
A web of relationships harbors deceit,
Surprising is the hive's ultimate abyss,
Its destruction revealed, a bitter defeat.
Confusion befalls the bee, homeless and lost,
Just like my love, once steady and pure,
Shattered illusions, a heart tempest-tossed,
Leaving emptiness, a love insecure.
bag of spiders,
lair contained,
unless
shaken and poured
it’s raining spiders -
spiders reigning…its a downpour
bag of spiders, spidermen
weaving webs - oh what wild webs conceived
spiderlings take rappelling lessons -
humans repelled by sticky wickets…
a trampoline buffet.
lacy architecture unique.
Eight Leggers Grill capitalizes
on an insect infestation.
bag of spiders, they’re no cocooned butterflies.
arachnid’s legs running loose, climbing
into cracks, crevices and corners,
on the loose…
It dripped from the heavens
Laced with gold
But scolded by fire
It dripped onto her
Onto him
Onto them
And it set them on fire
Filled their veins with gold
Their words with heat and passion
Their tears stream gold
And burn them while they fall
Their words heat rooms
Their touch Midas
They turn each other gold
The scolding gold laced drip
Never did find me
Though I stood in the rain
I kept my umbrella open
And watched it touch
Everyone else
A puddle pooled at my feet
I felt the warmth of it through my shoes
Saw the gold attempt to cling to me
But it seems my shoes repelled it
So the puddle fell downstream
Fell to another's feet
And I watched it climb onto their shoes
And once again
Watched another be set on fire
Watched as their veins turned from blue to gold
And I watched
And watched
And watched
Never to be graced by the heavenly drop
Forever watching it rain
Under my umbrella
Outside the window sprawled an ash
with splayed and scalloped leaves in pose.
Each veined and blotchy web was stuck
to misted panes as swirling winds repelled
the rush of rust across the open view.
The heavy trees were bowed with naked bones.
Translucent leaves revealed their tiny veins
like spider webs that riddled through each leaf.
No pulse of sap now streams the cindered flesh
nor crimson tones that once enlivened growth
but stretched and tightly taut like brittle skin.
An open window played a plaintive tune
as grainy gnats then groaned on empty air
and gathering the summer's dying gasp
the wind expelled a final rasping note.
But birds no longer sang on frozen limbs
nor flocked towards the warmth of foreign shores.
You lay in vigil as soft currents moved.
Not everything is
going to resonate with
everyone—and that is
how it should be.
Magnetism is never
forced—it just is—
just as love pines
but never needs to
seek.
There will be wistful
connections that compel
your soul and there will
be times where you are
simply repelled—
let it be.
It is all part of
the spell.
2.25.22
the rapture
Each story fell to the ground
feathers were collected
in the die-off different colours
prismed in the silver dust
of moon eclipsing sun
the in-between time
where the sky parted
like torn curtains
the Grimoire words
flew off the page
into the aether
black keys fed
to speak golden spells
bringing life back screaming
from the black open caverns
of the banished and repelled
bit-by-bit the brimstone cracks
and sparks from the depths of death
the mortal substance skerrick,
near to invisible but heard
for what it is now, seraphim
3 sets of wings, rolls off the emptiness
in echoing tears the becoming breaks
through waves rapturefarious
collecting immortal strength
from the deep ink pockets of dark
mined mind firmly set concrete
and contracted in the fires of hell
the phoenix rises like a raptor
its beating heart lit
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Casshern” / Ursine Vulpine
https://youtu.be/nRY5pcA4jk8
"Oxygene 8 Megamix" / Jean Michel Jarre
https://youtu.be/LfkqJOAEsFM
rapturefarious
rapturefurious
https://www.britannica.com/topic/seraph
Lithuania has told Vladimar Putin to keep out of our nation
They've been shifting freight to and from the Russian federation
Putin has said they'll take action, it's just another hollow threat
But if he takes any kind of military action with force he'll be met.
Any hostile act against one, is a hostile action against us all
Lithuania has nothing to fear and it's Vlad Putin who'll fall
Because any hostile action will then trigger article five
NATO will respond with force, and Putin will be lucky to survive.
If Vladimar Putin wants to send freight to the Kaliningrad region
He'll have to find another way, the west won't give permission
But NATO' s eagle eyes are watching, Vladimar Putin's every move
And certainly won't back down, the west has nothing to prove.
Russia's botched special operation so far, has been a total disaster
They think Ukraine will give in to bombings, atrocities and slaughter
Ukrainians are proud and would rather die, than lose their sovereignty
And have repelled the Russians in battle with acts of sheer bravery.
Written 21st June 2022
From the ice bound Southern Pole comes the north bound southerlies,
pushing wave after wave white horses, attacking rock and sand,
where billowing black clouds blanket one of the angry seas
that is behind the battle between the ocean and the land,
on a relentless journey that’s been repelled for centuries,
through defiance from persistence in an unrelenting stand,
until high pressure moves in behind the zephyr westerlies,
to bring back a time of balance now it is in command.
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