such a speech may sound superfluous
as screamed in to the sky each night but know that
such a thing won’t hinder me.
a heavy heart is lightened only by such a redundancy
and to the sky
I scream,
each night I cry:
that if it were forbidden I’m sure you would hear my whispers,
but such a heavy heart
cannot be eased by silent storms
so I scream:
thunderous,
I scream as if I’ve lost my king,
I tell him of our suffering;
through harsh winds of our galaxy
I scream with my solemnity,
he shall indeed our agony take heed.
my voice may wander eons and in fact I hope it so,
for I do not wish to beg and I do not wish
to crawl(once you told me I was strong)
I shall be with you ‘fore long,
this in my consiousness I see
so t'wards this sky I scream,
and I shall scream with no disdain;
my king will guide us with his light again.

What he will give is the incipient  bare minimum
of his heartbeat

He’ll reveal just 
the washed out clamoring of his  horded desire
all because there would be nothing left in his own perception
of a universe that may reduce his secret lust to nothing.
implode like terrorists on the fantasy of his greatness yet to come…

although we are born magnificent;  which then gets blinded out by all the hearsay of our original sin

he won’t go too far with a notion of
blissful ‘otherness’
nor squeeze too many lemons

he’s got no room for confidence sugar stored
on his empty shelf
however negative space can be
a good thing
(he has heard)

he’s dumbfounded when he wants more from someone
and expects the best of their yet to be born
mind reading abilities to:

just


understand who he is

or

“be gone I say!”
…(hehehe) -writer could not help it-

scathed in baby blisters by his choices so far...

it was of course!
all the:

****** babble of growing up in his Family of origin/original sin

where he learned to swim so comfortably in precious

Aloneness -----  -Aloofness-

and  there he became more real than ever

---Ahh well...it’s the grand excuse for

most of his life

until he feels the scratch of his riotous ‘settling for’
is bleeding ****** ******

and then one day he looks in the mirror and a ghost like

stroke (not yet manifested)

spotlights his over bearing mind to feel what it has
~done did~
disconnected with deeds of the heart

and foresight/manipulation
for naught

he then finds out his heart needed more than a cup of
tea and a scone (mid 40's)

he finds out his emotional impasse was so ****


false  (almost 50)

and that his lack of allowing others in
was truly a waste of mental constructs

(Solid 51)

this I know like my own dry eyed nodding

I was him

(the now pleasure of hindsight... 55)

but all the 'do right' stuff is cohesively on time
all the contrast that created a calling for

again and again  

this leaning

to love



Linaji 2011

Eve Calling
Variation on Eve Thinking

I hear him thinking
Trying to wrap his tongue
Around me
Searching deep
For me
Attempting to call
To me.

I’ll place this gift over him,
Crawl through the blades of grass
And breathe myself inside

So maybe then he will hear me
Call to him
From the missing piece
I own.
I’ll kiss my name onto his lips

And use my tongue to scribble
Language onto his.

We began bigger than this. Like sun warmed sand and waves. Tidal and furious.

We began like crashing stars into a horizon that thought it could hold us captive.

We began with simple letters forming big complex words and then sentences. Destined for stories.



A call.



And now we stare at ruins. Wondering if we can rebuild.

Wondering whether we can weather the weather.



And through it all, I reclaim my former glory.

Punching at the glass ceiling and shaking my fists at the passers by above.

Warrior. Skin your tattoos from your back and bind them into picture books for children.

Rid your teeth. Give them to the wise man to dangle from his throat.

Turn your shield into a soup bowl and feed the hungry mouths you see.

Make your bow into a cradle and let your youth rest for once.



My fists are polished stone. Monuments to days past.



I am a relic.



This. This is what men of the world fight for.



Bright smiling eyes. And matched heartbeats, linking rhythm until it threatens to burst from our chests.



Playing heart strings in minor chords. Making lyrics out of the words stuck in our throats.

Trusting touch to explain the things we can’t.



And making love like prayer.



We began like laughing children. Laughing in the face of the future.

Reading the great stories on our lips by placing our finger beneath them and moving slowly.. to.. the.. right.



And the hole on the other side of the world can’t be filled.



Just avoided.



Our hands are held to our own mouths now.  Some covering. Some cupped to shout.



And I will bellow. Bellow to stoke the fire.



Warrior. Make your armor into a home. Cover the heads of those dearest to you.

Bring fire to match the one in your heart. And cut your tongue from your mouth before it learns to form the word surrender.



Ask the mountain for faith.

Ask the rock for healing.

Ask the lady for peace.



We began bigger than this.



We can end the same.

It was late in the day
The sun was busy hiding
Behind the towering city
He hid in the shadows

He stopped right next to me
We each nodded to the other
As if we had been nodding
To each other for years

We smoked our cigarettes
Watching the people walk by
We nodded as they past
That’s when I realized
I might be invisible too