Skulls And Thorns
The darkness is cold.
Hold your hand and be bold.
Take me with you.
Sense of touch wherever you go.
From the grave to the sky.
Together, I feel alive.
You are beyond elegant.
Stand with you in darkness.
Watch the candle lights dance.
You are my match.
Light the sky on fire.
You're the one I desire.
You are mesmerizing.
Fly past the horizon.
A place with many dark shades.
Our shadows follow us on the way.
The night is ours.
I give you purple flowers.
We are creatures of the night.
Skulls and Thorns, a poem, live or die.
This is our path.
Strange love that will last.
We creep into the unknown.
Stand side by side facing the red sun.
Skulls and roses, skulls and crossbones, most of people who died alone.
Skulls in corpses, skulls in the living, ‘til they decompose, protection is what they’re giving.
Protect the mind, that tissue so soft, but easily shaken, easily sent aloft.
Protecting a soul, so sweet and tender, but nothing, not even nature, can live forever.
They give you medicine, sell you lies, say “this will make you better.”
When there wasn’t anything wrong with you, ever.
They give you Churches, where those skulls hide under dirt, and tell you to put their god first.
But for life, for creativity, for the freedom to be yourself, you thirst.
And you know your gods were there, holding your hand, first.
You know your gods created the skull that protects your beautiful mind,
the flesh that carries your soul so blessed by the divine.
Filled by gods and goddesses, your soul a creature unaffected by time.
A creature that’s had many skulls, lived countless lives.
And you will live again, another skull to protect your blessed mind.
Las Pas Bolivia
November 8th
Day of the Skulls
A bit different than Mexico’s Day of the Dead
Prehispanic belief says people have seven souls
One of them is located in the skull
If they do not have an ancestral skull they will dig one up
They are respectful and decorate the skull with reverence
Their skulls are treated with awe
taken to cemetery church where priest blesses them
Not a Catholic priest, they frowned on this practice
And got their church windows broken as a result
These skulls are thought to have protective powers
They are treated with respect
Pampered with cigarettes and cocoa leaves and other treats
Dia de las Natitas
Day of the Skulls
crystal skulls
some are repulsed
others are drawn in
feeling the purity of them
mystics state they have healing powers
can enhance your psychic eye
pull energy from your root chakra
use them for successful scrying
important in cleansing rituals
oftentimes have an alien connection
paranormal phenomenon
produce miracles
rose quarts skull can talk to you
will share tales of love
tigers eye skull will help you solve mysteries
amethyst skull brings you prophetic dreams
choose your skull wisely
He is a professional, let him call out the skulls.
I wondered what this meant, but I trusted the gulls.
The drummer began, and the skulls came out of their hiding.
I was shocked at first, but soon recognized his abiding.
They love him, I said. They still have emotion.
The came from the meadows, the woods and the ocean.
These are the lost skulls, the gulls told me with a hush.
Don’t scare the drummer. We don’t want him to rush.
My great aunt could conjure fire skulls the child reported.
Can you do that? Can you do that?
The visiting neighbor did not know.
She had never tried it and did not know what a fire skull was.
I doubt it, she replied.
Knowing it is difficult to visualize something
when you do not know what it is.
Skulls
cracked, hollowed
showing, decomposing, wounding
Remains, Graves, Cemeteries, Mausoleums
cushioning preserving, defending
damaged, vacant
Souls.
It's rare to have a moment of complete silence.
When the entire world's clack is turned off.
Maybe that's what heaven's all about.
An eternal silence filled with soul bubbles.
Exchanging telepathic pleasantries.
No
throaty motors or
screaming neighbors
playground screeches
No thin-walled moans
or deathbed groans.
Just birdsong and flower mist
drifting through the silent heart
of heaven.
You and your bones,
your skin,
the unkindness of your eyes...
keeps me awake at night,
for hours, hours, and sunrises.
You and the eco of your absence
the memory of us
already forgotten,
buried in the graveyard.
The only remains of what once was our hearts.
6/7/2020
Pro Patria Mori
Missouri volunteers bit bullets, watched
as Santa Ana's baggage washed
their brazen hair, hip deep
in the Rio Grande.
The ancient river moved across the land
Like slow drool down a leather cheek.
Bang! Paul Bunyan's balls
rolled down the Great Divide, rattled
across the porcelain sea.
Oh, the girls!
Hair hot and black, Whoopee!
Their tongues as pink as baby fat.
Now tongs drop a hissing crepe
on the defoliated plate. Butter complicates
our fingers, soils the bib.
We crack a claw. Like a crib
at Benin, wary and dull,
the eagle fills his nest with skulls.
Lion sits at his table with appetite
to enjoy fruits of his daily labor
Those with him during every feast
are invisible skulls of past meals
Friends and foes sing and dance
jumping all over the table at meal
lion harshly bickers, denies rights
some he praises and honors bitterly
Bed time lion scatters his eyes all over
traumatized by vision of crying skulls
yet his appetite grows day and night
to capture friend and foe for meals
Legion of weeping and dancing skulls
frequently disrupt joys of stolen meal
In the fields,
On the dry cold land,
There are monsters.
Torn up skeletons,
Lying on the ground.
One by one.
Swords inside the skulls,
Slicing through brains in half,
Blood trickling down their heads.
The demon within,
Daemons of Hell.
All dead...
Dusty bones,
Bloody puddles,
Lie by my feet.
Nothing but bloods and guts.
What a horrific battle.
The skeletons are destroyed.
This is the battle,
Of the dead...
Hold in abeyance
A sub rosa confession
A mystery concealed by science
“Veiled in allegory”
Impossible evidence and concrete lessons
“A Peculiar system of morality”
“illustrated with symbols”
Quoted definition
Of Freemasonry
Complex bureaucracy
A tyrannical
Secret society.
Life begins, with morning dew
Beneath the earth a small pod waits
Till the eyes of winter steals
A glimpse of spring, then knows its fate
Among remains of those gone past
There is hope left on their face
To most, it's viewed as death
But life still leaves its trace
And when the sad tail ends
Those that passed, will lie there rotten
Till the blossom reigns again
Upon the forehead, of the forgotten
The gourds were really jealous of
the pumpkin's orange hide.
The golden corn was long, long, gone
the scarecrow did confide.
The old oak tree was worrying
for he'd TP on his crown,
and the barn's backside was plastered
with a witch who's falling down.
The plastic skeleton rattled
in the evening breeze
laughing at the harvest moon
he was trying not to sneeze!
Soon the kids would bob for apples
and eat candy till they hurled
Oh yes Halloween's a grand old time
for all the boys and girls!
10/2/13
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