Isadora

Immoral yearnings drift

Through my sleep and dreams,

As wicked oracles relive my actions, 

Over and over again.

Litanies in flame, 

Engulfing terror,

Incinerating minds, 

Encapsulating suns.

Such eternal ravages reveal my weakened heart.

Oh my Endora Nephalim,

Desire entertained such desire,

Until dread enemies invaded our world, 

And stood laughing.

Our vows exterminated we watched others lie across universes.

But my love was always yours my heart,

Beautiful, exciting....

Why isn't this heaven?

Madness it seems, such over under love.

Yet our universe remains still,

From beneath ruins and over monuments,

Crying and touching.

Isadora,

I saw you in the snowstorm and you swallowed my mind.

Friday

Friday has come......
AT LAST!
It's a good job we've got the week
In between,
Otherwise we'd spend far too much time
On Friday's,
And not enough time
Looking forward to them.
Oh, for a week full of Fridays!

Sometimes

Sometimes she got so
Very
FULL
Of things
Once more
Unsaid,
She feared the words
Would force themselves
Out of her skin,
Tearing a place
In the ether
With razor tipped
Fingers.

Because sometimes
There was just
NO WAY
Of saying what should
Be said.

Not without....... more.

But why did it burn so much,
That,
That,
Feeling,
That what was really meant was....
How
Dare she
Take the lid of her box.
Hmm.
Well guess what?
The lid was off,
And now,
Well now..

THERE ISN'T A BIG ENOUGH BOX.

Mother

Mother

Heat dried ruby rolling, falling, sweating slide down cheeks of satin.

Staining.

Emeralds shimmer tears of ruby. Down, down. Cover the glistening with sheets of maybe.

Smile beloved. Smile for acing, drowning ruby will cover all in shades of winter.

Madness.

Forget spring dawning, maid of sorrow. Made of sorrows. Ruby traps you, sears you, blinds you. All your agonies are ruby. Memories do not deceive you. True, too true to see the ruby, waiting, hiding in your shadows. True to life, loves life, gives love, takes life, only shades of darkest ruby, shining through your childhood cherry. Then your smile was full of maybe, promise making more tomorrows. Shielding rubies dawn of sorrows. Long days, last nights, end cherry sharp bite.

Innocence.

Taken, torn. No more childhood shields to mend you. Bend you, break you ruby takes you, sharp as daylight through your shutters.

Emerald eyes we love you…

Watched you, cursed you, loved you, sought you. Caught you in the winters snow fall. Took you from your Monday, Tuesday, mornings, evenings, real time playthings. All your nothings making angels red as ruby, softly, cruelly.

Poor pretty. Never cried. Lost within the chatter chitter child like Alice.

Help me, hold me!

Don’t struggle angel, fight us, hate us, never dreamt of true friends like us.

Wake angel.

Ruby wakes us, shakes us, makes us hold you; take you, warm as summer, cold as twilight.

Scream our angel.

Peel your sunshine, glisten slowly, toad my daydream.

We never sought to hurt you.

Emerald ruby, drawn in our time, your time, her time. There shows ruby. Touch you with her gentle cruelty. Shows you, sees you, makes you nowhere. Touch us with the softest nightmare.

Emerald, when you fought the red it gave us forward to tomorrow. Showed us promises of other smother us in….mother you found us!

Ruby saved us; Emerald gave us, solace from your antique heartache. We see you, saw you, loved you, fought you.

Farewell mother, ruby lover.

Emerald we need you.

Don't think

Don't think,
You're not qualified.

What's to be gained,
From such effort?

After all, there's only you,
Standing between the facts.

Harlots and Heretics

'Understand me now!' she cried,
As in the ducking stool she writhed and twisted
And tore her skin on God's own rope.
For was HE not the one who put her there?
'I am no witch, I am no whore, God made me, I am his!'
But feeble words were drowned
As icy water clamped her head in vice like claws,
And salted wounds erupted around voiceless screams.

'My lungs explode,' she thought,
When once again clergy’s madman
Jerked her from deaths liquid grasp
To flounder in the noisy air.
They cursed her long and loud,
Her crime of living more sickening to them than any murder.

'I did nothing' she gasped,
As padre's fist closed her mouth forever.
'God, just let me die!' she prayed
As stars exploded in her mind;
But no such easy end awaited this fair maid.

They dragged her, silent,
From the witches chair,
With hating hands,
That introduced her to the cobbled street,
That broke her bones and bruised her skin
With stony hard indifference.
'Burn the witch' chant the children,
Infantile ignorance fed by prejudice and hate.

She hardly felt the snapping of her spirit
When her bloody eyes beheld the wood ahead.
Her funeral pyre, pointing to the brilliant sky,
The finger of the devil mocking God.
They tied her,
Pierced her feet with broken twigs
And lashed her shattered body,
To prevent escape.
Their feeble minds rejoiced to see
The greedy flames consume her flesh
And melt the curse she whispered with her dying breath.

'God loves you' she thought,
'Why then could he not love me,
When all I strove to do was save the child from death.'
'Her death is mine' she thought,
And wondered as they cut her down
Why pain no longer racked her form.

They tossed her, smouldering, onto a cart
And drove her to the place the roads did cross.
And there she watched with molten eyes
As eager hands removed the soil to make a pit that gaped like sin.

'What happens here?' she thought in fear,
'have they not had enough of me?'

But then they tossed her into soil
That tried to cool her smouldering flesh.
'She's dead!!' they cried,
'And now she lies at Satan's gate for him to use as she deserves!'

Cold earth embraces her from all sides.
All that remains,
A body rotten and decayed that holds a mind,
That weeps and cries and echoes on the night
'God save me, am I not one of your own?'

But there comes no reply,

Save the clicking of the devils tail as he advances.

Drowning

Drowning

Implies a lack of breath

And a surfeit of water,

Usually accompanied

By at least a small degree 

Of panic.

Not her.

She's lounging in the water,

Flattering it with her presence,

Contemplating staying,

If she likes it enough.

A Good Person

Am I a good person only if I think good thoughts?

Am I a good person only  if I do good deeds?

Am I a good person if only I know

What I think, what I do?

Really, it doesn't matter.

Every day

We all weigh our own souls.

Don't trust the sanctimonious

Who use their 'goodness' as a weapon

To bludgeon and bemuse.

Their wanting leaks through the gaps.

It's easy.

First do no harm.

It's not rocket science.

Am I a good person?

Who's to say.

Happiness

It's an interesting concept happiness.
Or to be more accurate, the feeling of happiness.
Being happy.
It's a state of mind, and body.
What the brain brains, the body bodies.
We all know how it feels (I am rather making the assumption that we've all been happy in our lives, even if it was only that one time, many years ago, just before...well, never mind that!)
It's something that is almost impossible to describe.
It's more that a sense of well being, of everything being right with the world.
It feels like liberation to me.
Liberation from every other thought, every other feeling, every other concern.
In that moment all we are is, well....Happiness.
If I had to give it a colour, and why wouldn't I?
That's a perfectly normal thing to do.
If I had to give it a colour it would be bright sunshine yellow. With gold flecks. Lovely.

I've heard it said that you can see a persons soul in their face when they smile and hear their inner thoughts when they laugh.
I think that's fine.
Most people are feeling good thoughts when they smile so we're going to see the good, I say most people, there's always the odd one that's planning mass murder, or maybe perpetrating line dancing.

Although, now I come to think about it I'm not sure about the laughter thing.
I had a friend who's laugh sounded like a cross between a donkey and a rusty gate.
If that noise represented her inner thoughts I don't think I want to know what she was thinking about!!

I like feeling happy.
Sometimes I forget this though.
Sometimes for days at a time.
But there always comes a point when I remember.
I don't want to feel like this any more. I want to feel happy.
And when I want a 'quick happy' this is the picture I look at.
My mum and me on my wedding day, about 10 minutes before I became a Mrs.
This is how I feel when I really feel happy.

I'd recommend it to everyone.
Please, take time out for a 'quick happy' in your day and say 'YES' to those endorphines!!