[x]

skin fixeye cries to eye

no one sees

mouth cries to ear

no one hears

skin screams

I have a message for you.

touch me

aloneWhen all is said and done, we are all really alone.
What happens inside matters more than all else.
What is said in my heart is the truest sound.
Whoever speaks in my head is the loudest voice.
Wherever I go, I take me along, always and always.

There is rarely escape from this war, this anti-peace.
I can turn off the sound of the words inside my head.
I am then left with the force behind all the words.
I am then a skinful of seething wavering emotions.
I never wonder why people make destructive choices.

a synth relationshipListening to 80s electro-pop always makes me cringe, the same way your smile does. They both have that synth sort of edge to them. Both so false in their own right. I don't consider that style of music actual music, the same way I don't consider your smile an actual smile.
And yes, I like explaining myself. Just to be sure you understand. I need everything to be very clear, the same way you do. Only, when you do it, I hate you just a little bit more. I wonder if you know this is for you. You'll ask and I'll deny it. "Don't flatter yourself, love." I'll say.
When I do that, when I refer to as, "love", I think it flatters you. You shouldn't

call outWe used to run naked
through the wilderness,
chasing,
laughing,
fucking.
Our tribe of many colors,
now we have scattered
to the wind,
and once in a while
I can hear my children
call out
to the lost night.

releaseRelease on top of me,
release all over me,
release the death of
me,
give me release within
your dream.

mushrooms and bloodWe see my sun
a brilliant storm
wicked oil prison,
you teach to meander
like dizzy paradise
in the solitary orange
of moon gardens.
"wait with me and dance
my poet"
you are so unhung up,
feel me soothe that
tiny rose,
speak and take over
every vein
when black summer slips staggering
down rain mouth murmur
machine night
bind us under wet
sky matter,
and not leave us wanting to cum.

shake for meYou make me so human
so valid
A rare element
Inches from your breath
And tracing my heart upon your lips
You answer me
in silent shudders
I understand

-truth-will you meet me in the spaces
between our fingers

become tiny
atom-like

indivisible, but one

(and all the smaller pieces
that don't matter)

trade electrons

become
heavier
elements

----

a hollow note
crawls up
my throat

when you
depart

----

twenty minutes to dawn
(i know this because we've been here before)
in this moment, and this thing of arms and arms entwined, called embrace
this moment on soft notsosoft ground sheets

this look

it's the same
and in this moment

this moment is again

----

and your voices
singing as the past
ricocheting off
ceilings and walls
that do not house me
anymore, i hear you
strum af

EternityI tried to write of Death.
And I found it unworthy.

I tried to write of Hope
And I found it unworthy.

I tried to write of Fear
And I found it unworthy.

Hope and fear distract
from being fully alive
but they are only little
deaths.

I tried to write of Past
And Future but I saw
Only glimmers of Hope
and Fear in the words.

At this moment I am not
Dead.
This moment is eternity.

sighWhen I breathe out
I expire
I die

When I breathe in
I inspire
I birth

When you are gone
I sigh.

everyEvery student is my child
Every child is my teacher
Every teacher is my mother
Every mother is my friend
Every friend is my teacher
Every teacher is my lover
Every lover is my teacher
Every teacher is my father
Every father is my student

whirlthere's a smiling skull in the window
there
between the slats of the blinds
and there's a perpetual phonecall from prison on the radio

it just rushed me from behind with no warning

there's too much goddamn sadness in this world
there's too much sadness in me
here like a wall
blocking the simplest pleasures

I want to vibrate it down
between a D chord and this elusive woman

Don't you worry darlin'
(she's off dancing without me)
twisting somewhere
right here and worlds away

I can see her whirling
but I can't hear a thing

the dreamThe Dream approached on the night sidewalk
asking for a cigarette
her white-blonde hair cropped-close
she is a vision
blue bloodshot eyes
pupils dialated
she says, "This isnt really my style...Im a yoga instructor...I teach hatha..
I shouldnt be doing this, really..."
She says her name is Gabrielle
"Interesting" is all i get out
Life gave me another swift kick
"See? a perfect opportunity. and all you can do is stare and ask stupid questions."
she says, "I have to get back to my friends...but..."
she never finishes
she grabs my hand for just a moment too long as if trying to hold on
as if parting were truly something

but i kno

bloodlettingOnly traces of her remain,
odor of sage in this
ancient bower.
shafts of light
passing through a canopy of foliage
and visions,
engrossing hearts
with it's pale embrace.
nothing is moved by love alone.
distance-
a blanket of heavy silence.
I rage and wound the stillness,
dance in savage passion,
flailing
striking my naked body
to the earth.
groveling beast,
primordial release,
bloodletting words
page after page-
for her return.

early last springThere are women running in the air of the street
legs cycling between the scant breeze
the clouds fold in
scattering the new spring sunlight in beams
through the trees
my head is new
shaved clean of reasons
speculations arrive

I have no idea what to do with this age
Twenty-four was easier
I knew
or believed
more fully
in what i was supposed to be

Now there is a hospital waiting room
where morning shift nurses stream by
exhale good mornings
simple tired flirtations
from simply tired eyes
eyes that have seen more than they care to
eyes like mine
almost

the craziest one of the place has nailed me down
and like a school gir

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FebruaryI feel February looming in my bones.
I am passionless.
I am Demeter when Persephone is under the ground.
Why bother to do?
Why bother to try?
Does anything have meaning and color?
Or is this all a black and white story that has been told many times?

My head knows the answers
but my heart is weary.

I dream of Spring's warm breezes,
light airy clothes on warm skin,
and food picked and eaten fresh.

Yet strawberries will not cure me.
Strawberries do not light a cave.
I want to believe this cave journey will have a light at the other side.
Until I see it, as I have every Spring of my life,
I have to struggle

Apprentice CroneI am an Apprentice Crone.

Maiden for seven years only, I chose the realm of Mother out of curiosity.  This choice left me bereft of my heart’s desire for many a long year for my body could not accommodate my longing.

My first giftchild died by my own hand.  He died because I feared the world of men.  My soul, my heart, and my womb were ripped apart.  I was left gaping and empty.

My second giftchild died by my own wishes.  This rending went even deeper and created a hollowness of soul before unknown.

My third giftchild I held in my arms and close to my heart.  The scent upon

Bukowski clean and sweetThank God Bukowski is dead
so I am not tempted to lie
with him. I would taste his
skin and know sour is exalted.
I would hear his rasping breath
and fear his death at my door.
I would smell the three kind
words he burned into my ear.

boxesJust remember there is no box.
Inside the imaginary box is lonely.
So box people try to fill their box
By bullying invitees into sameness.

November 4, 2008I remember the day John Kennedy died.
I remember the day Bobby Kennedy died.
They were days of horror.
But I remember the day Martin Luther King died.
It was a day of terror and horror.

I celebrate this day with the same depth of emotion.
Let differences be welcomed.
Let us just be humans all.

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Paths

by ~wh0rem0ans, Jan 16, 2008, 6:26:40 AM
Literature / Poetry / Philosophical / Open

I rarely followed the tame path.
I saw it. At times I envied it.
I stepped on it occasionally.
It always burned my feet.

Then I wanted something so big
I believed a sacrifice was needed.
I traded my dancing slippers
For lead lined asbestos boots

My entire body rebelled.
I twisted and spasmed.
Out of the corner of my eye
I could see the other paths.

I could see herb flowers
Along my crooked paths.
How I missed the warm air
Stream of being my Self.

My entire mind rebelled.
I dreamt while awake
I dreamt while asleep.
My life was a nightmare.

I looked for the Child.
I hid from the Mother
I found the Crone and
She told me what was true.

My Child needed a wild Mother.
I collected up my dancing shoes
And jumped back on My path.
And my Crone was born.

Pathsby ~wh0rem0ans

Literature / Poetry / Philosophical / Open

here it is. thank you, Joseph!

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!KneelingGlory Mar 22, 2009

To thine own self be true.

~wh0rem0ans Mar 23, 2009

it *is* simpler ... but first you have to find the self.

did you know the Latin root word 'educare' means to uncover what is already there?

so educate your Self!

~hell-on-a-stick Jul 18, 2008

on my knees and burnin
my lips and moans are in union
i set my head on fire
smell the soul is burning.....
broken
broken up in me, the enemy
and i have swallowed the poison to feed me
i survive on the poison that feeds me
guilt
isnt sane
hatred
isnt sane
weakness
is insane
it makes me feel
to blame

~wh0rem0ans Jul 19, 2008

wow. you rise up to meet the in breath ... inspiration.

~hell-on-a-stick Jul 19, 2008

thats actually lyrics to a tool song ive been listening to recently over and over...it seemed to synchronize.

~wh0rem0ans Jul 19, 2008

It does. Thanks.

~Non-Numerus Apr 16, 2008

I guess it is possible to change your path before it is too late. Thank you for the inspiration.

~wh0rem0ans Apr 17, 2008

It is always possible to change. Change is the only constant in the universe. What you wish to do is stop resisting the inner flow and let the outer flow follow. That is the only way.

!poeticwonder Apr 5, 2008

Oh this is infinitely better than what reminded you of it.

~wh0rem0ans Apr 6, 2008

Thank you for the fave. I do not think it is better ... it is just said in a different voice.

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