I tore a letter from inside my ribs
not a heart, just the script of your name
written in red ruin and birth fluid.
You were never mine.
You were my plague.
And still I prayed at your shadow.
Every sentence you whispered
became a worm in my lung,
a hymn stuck in the throat of a dying god.
And yet, when the mirror begged me
to choose life or you
I held your rot and kissed it clean.
Prime Rib
Prime rib bone in, marbled fat
Spiced with garlic cloves
Smoked slowly on a grill with
Mesquite wood chips till
Center is slight pink
Melts in my
Mouth!
He ran his hands over my body
Like he was searching for a place
He could begin to pry me open
Without ruining my face
More snake than human I am
Undeserving of the gift
His hands delved into my body
Like he was taking back the rib
in measured
mood
spontaneity
of an arrested
moment
knitted
together
with
experiential
symmetry
Adam, consort, spouse to Eve,
to no other must he cleave.
She, created first of clay,
Adam followed the next day.
Eve, divine, celestial spark,
crowned to rule the patriarch.
Adam, gift to Eve, her mate—
he is hers to subjugate.
If you think me turned around,
you will see where truth is found.
From his rib she could not come.
Female is the primal one.
Adam did not come before,
as is told in script and lore.
Adam's form— altered and flawed;
woman is the shape of God.
She refused to speak her name
and told others of the shame
she felt knowing I was akin to her
she recognize her as Terra Nullius
someone unclaimed
somewhere nestled between
unwanted and never needed
an easy mark for someone
who wished to dared to freatover
a chore for understanding
made into a myth by those
who sought convesment of her
Liawat Rib!
a musing joke often
might someone seek interest
to seem more adoring and maybe
even interesting
yet until then she'd
speak down he nose
and say Terra Nullius
until she anwsered
She without a Master
Unclaimed by anyone
Terra Nullius
neither to be spoken of as claimed
an oboe might make her
sound more appealing
until then might the flutes of Change
sing her words
with sound
a music
type arrangment
triffled to began
and a chore to end.
In 1958 we saw the end of an era.
Mused the Curtiss Wright scholar.
he told a crowd of people
that an America that didn't
trust in the newness of creativity
would see a day were only exterior machines
would be looked at as something American enough
to be bought. Standing on the Promises of Yesteryear he
saw using the brands of yesteryear as the way to
move America forward.
He talked of reinventing the way we travel.
By moving the design forward
and never looking back.
Not using the samples of yesterday: but
creating new product under a Brand Name recogniable
enough to create family oriented appeal to modern auto's..
Bringing people together in the ailenment of futuristic design.
Creating quality Auto's and Luxury Products
were people from all ages could be proud to spend and buy.
The aquistion of Parkard motor Company:
to create from the sketch pad, a product
that would rival all companies. Building both
handcrafted timepeices
and the manufacturing of
products that would set the standard for quality
across the globe. He ended his speech
saying" Packard: where have you Been!"
The call to cut, dizzy came, the rib is off,
Now woe man!
Spiritual farm farmed by he
None another could carry;
Moisturized soil dried,
Sea wildlife fried,
Bush toil players, roared but are reared,
All other breeds feared.
At eve, He was hissed,
Ahhh, the devil dined!
This stew is rare; not many but few are real,
Thine rib made thee whole.
All these, many are the woes on he,
Beside the sin, sweet is she.
Learn to say ‘Sorry’ to who is broke:
Don’t him near to make of it a joke,
Even if you were to him Nice Bloke
Or playfully would his rib-cage poke;
He’s now saddled with burdensome yoke
And easily could in whisky soak.
Remember it’s ‘Sorry’ to The Broke
Rib-cracking it might be leave your joke
The once-tuneful voices, a croak
So Trifling Words - For God’s Sake! - don’t fit
Some in helpless chairs cheerfully sit
But soonest mortally themselves hit!
Rib-eye steaks are on the pit
Seasoned with dad’s rub
Are you all ready to grub
Meat will fall off bone
One bite, it’ll be gone
Then drink Ice,
Tea!
Love at first sight was the
language she spoke
A sight to behold
to the angels she woke
A creation with broken mold
from the Divine
The description of beauty
branded in the mind
A angelic appearance
her presence defines
What to do with this spirit?
That forever clouds my eye's
An ocean that desire
could not drain
A torment, envy
could not name
Both heaven and hell
she is the same
The possession of beauty
an undeniable claim
A wondering star
in the universe of her name
Both heat and light
brought forth by her flame
The invisible force
filling my sail
Where rudders direction
succeed or fail
Secret confessions to my
soul been nailed
my desire to possess
and my controls impaled
My eyes silence being hailed
by souls satisfaction fully regaled
The unforgettable sight
that memory cannot fail
captured by photo or ancient
paint brush. Not for sale.
Perfection and it's causes
Divinely detailed
Reflections and its pauses
hopes derailed
Looking everywhere for the missed rib
In the bus, train and posters to lead
Pleaded God to provide with a little hint
Every time encountered with a gleam of a rib
Fooling myself thinking it’s mine to reap
Rinse and polish it to fit with the rest
Yet, not lucky enough to make a swear in a church
The rib that I found was not for me to get
All this time of searching rendered good for nothing
Nevertheless, the missed rib finally got found
She was not far from me to go for search’s second round
All this time by my side, never left despite the hard tide
When am alone, she was there for me to make me feel warm
When I needed help, she was there for me to give me a hand
That is the best friend that I always have
And the missed rib that I have been looking so far!!!
"Mould from clay!" said the divine, from these ribs we shall make our art that is fine. We shall celebrate with the innocence of thy wine, and mourn with the thickness of her bread.
Everything divine is moulded, but everything divine is never a straight line, for man is the perfection of art - and only he knows the line.
Let him take the clay that he desires, lest he throw it into the beastly fires. Fetch it to me if you know how to mould, for one can only make clay within the cold.
This is the story to be told, of Lilith, fire and rib - she does not but take from the crib, for that is Samael, the breaker of rib.
He is the one who bathes in fire, she is the one who bathes in desire. Let it be said that this is true, from God comes clay, rib, and fire too.
J-est
A-bate
S-ad
M-oment
E-ndorsing
R-apturous
F-eeling
A-s
J-oke
A-nd
R-ib
D-on't
O-ffend
Topic: Birthday of Jasmer Fajardo (February 23)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
A succulent prime-rib roast
thickly sliced, blood rare,
a baked potato topped with
sour-cream, chopped chives
and melted butter,
a gourmet
feast!
(Epulaeryu)
05,02,2019
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