Finding the truth is hard
Observing the decoy is impossible
Returning to reality is difficult

My life can be confusing as
Your life right now, my friend

Fighting all alone at the last
Remaining battle field
Interrupting the peace but
Ending all the greed
Nothing feels so much better than
Doing good things for people

Knowing the truth hurts
Allowing it to devour you
Tells you how much you've learned
Everything is always meant to happen

She climbs out of the galaxy
to say hello to Her reflection
in the dripping pool of stars
and molecular consciousness

She climbs out of Her womb
to be born to the Day of Now
and live as She always has lived

She climbs the mountain of Life
to shout Her Prophesies
to the ears of hermetic creatures
with ears tuned to Her voice

She climbs under the radar
of vicious naysayers
and unbelievers,
attempting to surprise them
with Her hidden beauty
and knowledge of All Things

She climbs from Her watchtower
and walks the streets of mortality
and sacrifices Her form
to gain back Her eternal body

She climbs out from the past
to offer Her peace and comfort
to the ill-minded souls
lulling into despair from indecisive hearts

She climbs out of the painting
to inspire the painter with Love
and Vision
and internal wisdom

She climbs for the skies
knowing She'll end up in circles -
an endless loop of here's and there's
and everywhere's


She climbs back out of the laughter
to hear Her echo of life
ring through every dimension of the cosmos

She climbs the wicked winds
to land safely like a dove
on the shoulder of the faithful
and the strong,
never letting up Her hold
on the Card of Fate

She climbs to the Heavens of Her mind
to poetically rearrange Her thoughts
to mirror Her destiny

She climbs down from Herself
and imagines what life would be like
to not exist
and to not imagine
and to not know
to not feel
to climb no longer

She smiles to Herself
as She becomes the climb
and thus, She is

Standing on Heaven, by oak trees and maple
Seeking truth in self as daylight burns purple
A stance of nothing taken for a joke
To mislead followers,
and throw responsibility to the fire

Standing on Heaven, in field of rich poverty
Blinking twice before looking straight
Past far beyond the structure of faces
and deep into the throes of spirit and death and time
where only the sky holds the key
to the door of knowledge and existence

Standing on Heaven, in an attempt to fly
Breaking bones on collapse from high
Coming down to feel the sullen ground,
***** from corporate greed and ignorance
Ah, just another day in Heaven's Hell
Where everyone is someone, forever and more
because humanity is immortal
viewed by the eyes of stature -
Man's egoic need to feel real.

It’s a lovely restaurant.

   Lovely.

   There is no artificial lighting. Just hundreds of candles that flicker from recessed niches in the walls and on every table.

   And you’ve done everything right so far. From seating me in my chair, with the slight brush of your knuckles across my bare shoulders as you removed my light jacket, to taking my purse from my bloodless fingers to place it next to my feet, you have excelled. As you knelt beside me and ran your fingertips up my bare leg you lift your perfect lips into a melting smile that promises everything.

   I want everything

   And there you are, sitting across from me. So perfect, my dream, my nightmare, my man of the hour, my choice. The candle light is kind to you and as I stare over the glass rim of a red wine I’m enthralled by your voice. I don’t know what you're saying but you just have to keep talking and I’ll just keep redrawing you in the candlelight.

   You have utterly, beguilingly captured me.

   The candle on the table has lit a fire in your eyes. I imagine the fires of Hell burn there and shiver at the thought of all that wickedness. The way you ran your fingers through your hair has tricked me into thinking that two small (very ****) horns protrude from your head. It’s an illusion, but one that I’m happy to run with.

   As you pick up my hand and feather kisses along my fingertips I feel the brush of the stubble on your face which I’m sure wasn’t there when we walked hand in hand to our table but the ****** hair is unmistakable. Is it possible I’m here with a Lycanthrope? Will our evening end with me running bare foot through the woods while a howl scrapes delicious shivers down my spine? Will I fall to my knees, a victim of the beast as it stalks me, scenting the wind, marking it’s prey, spying me and leaping to devour me? One glance at the full moon suggests I might be in for a wild night.

   In the candlelight you morph into all of my fantasies. But now, I’m just hungry.

   The illusion is just too hard to hold. I haven’t eaten since my last foray into the mortal world and I’m too tired to hold onto the hope that I can make it past reality.

   The restaurant drops away. The candles burn down to one lowly guttering torch and you're just a little boy (next to my 712 years) standing in a cave, where I have lured you and you're more than aware that you're not desert, you’re the main meal and the adrenaline coursing through your beautiful veins have my fangs dropping and my eyes smoldering but don’t worry, I can make it pleasurable, if I want to, it depends whether my fantasies have been strong enough, but I will respect you…

   Of course!

Tasting like a new spring day
So soft and moist with dew
A small lift, a tilting smile
Promises all dreams do come true
One small sip is never enough
One soft word demands one more
One light kiss from your whispering lips
Is to drift away from shore
Sometimes the mask will crack
I see what there is to hide
Your whispering lips are still so soft
Gentle words still lilt on the tide
But there is now a bitter after taste
From your softly whispering lips
Demanding words are spoken
Poison glinting on their tips
I willingly kept drinking your words
Poison flowing through my veins
Such ghastly death I might of deserved
Where your words are all that remain
The ultimate shocking betrayal
That also became my demise
Did not spill for your whispering lips
But bled from your lying eyes.

before you start reading, please not that the Barbie in this poem is not the registered trademark that is the Barbie doll (all is revealed in the notes)*

When Barbie wakes up in the morning
Even the birds stop chirping in fright
She makes her way to the wardrobe knowing
What is inside will start the day right

First to be donned is her barbarian bra
It takes quite a task to fill
She really is ever so grateful for her bra
It keeps all the best bits subdued and still

The bras must always go on first
Without it she would be in trouble
If the briefs went on first without the bra
To this day she’d still be bent over double

Next on are the bountiful bootylicious briefs
She worries that they may have shrunk
Mayhap she should stop putting them in the dryer
They are essential to keep all her junk in her trunk

Over the top of the barbarian bra
Goes a sweater with the deepest V neck you’ll find
The cleavage that is on display is important
It keeps the focus from straying to her behind

On go the boots and laced up tight
These babies were made for walking
But most days they are just for comfort
Unless she’s up for some stalking

Last of all on her perfectly coiffed head
She settles her beautiful hat
It looks a little like a large table umbrella
In fact, once upon a time, it was actually that!

She’s now ready to start her day
And the birds resume chirping like a choir
Barbie is ready to face the world dressed in her
Barbarian Bra and Bountiful Bootylicious Briefs and
Other Amazing Attire

treat it as goodbye
goodbye to silly pipe dreams
goodbye to new-fangled beginnings
goodbye to what could have been