Whatever happened to the moments
we lived for
the moments we lived from
electrifying lives
currents of passion
high voltage that knew no resistance

what do I have to do?
to feel the surge
to feel the spark
to feel alive again?

Is it in the tomes?
Is it in the songs?
Do the muses hold it in the walls?
Is it inside of me?

Searching for the switch
to send me back to passion
To make me feel charged again
to make me feel in charge again

Her hair was painfully black and strong enough to end wars with
Her eyes reminded men of the sea
Just as intimidating as intriguing
And she would sing her serenades to the moon
And they would break their necks just to stare at her
This goddess trapped on earth

Poor Medusa
All she wanted was to be loved

This dirt under my
Fingernails is from crawling out
Of holes that Life
Threw me into.

Well... at times I jumped in
Without help.
The point is
I know how to get out.

I'll teach you; here, take
My hand. I might even let
You have the whole arm.
But know:

The moment you try to
Pull me down for a quick fix
Of company and comfort, I'm
Letting go.

Life is more than holes.
More than self-pity.
The sun never searches for
A cold face to kiss.

Sara L Russell 17/3/15 at 13:25

What will they say of you in future times?
Were they duped by your duplicity
or did you fall on your double-edged sword?
Was the devil we knew any better than the unknown?

The future has a way of arriving early.
Are you ready now, for what it yet may bring?
Will you be knighted, or, benighted and beleaguered,
Fall fallow by the wayside of your ways?

Will the name of Cameron carry on,
Whatever else is lost or left behind?
Will David slay the apocolyptic giant of global warming,
yet terminate the service of National Health?

Was it wealth, or a poverty of emotional maturity
that led to such flotations and privatisations?
what sensations did you feel, did you reach referendum,
did you feel the earth move?

We never saw your manifesto made manifest.
We, the voters who voted not for you,
yet saw you rise, anticipate your fall.
Do promises count as any kind of plan?

And the future is arriving post-haste,
like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
Elections have a way of arriving early.
We are ready, with a big sharp X.

The motion of your body
in the throes of getting through to me
are a dance I'd like to fold up
and put in my pocket.

The hinge at the wrist
and a nonchalant manus
looking to the west waiting
for an answer...

I find wondrous waterfalls
falling from the tips
of every finger
cascading.

There's a world within your grasp
as you transfer your temple between
the infinite bubbles of your surrounding space.

Your eyes saccade softly yet swiftly
as they envision worlds from other dimensions that I can only visit through your woven webs.

I will lay in them and swing
as a hammock in the summertime.

We will weave them together
as our phenomena emerge
into sacred universal patterns.

Our contents will thaw when
the sun starts to stay longer,
they will melt and flow
as our crystal lattice structures
ceaselessly shatter and
recrystallize into geometric flowers.

We are dancing rocks
We are dancing rocks
who have learned
how to love and —
Now we are aflame!

We are licks of carnelian
shifting to a roaring citrine.

Now we are jade flowers floating
to tropical turquoise waterways...

Kyanite kites flying into
deepening oceans of lapis lazuli.

Gold flecks
explode into purple
as our eyes flutter open into
bursts of bright white feathers.