Now, most beautiful

By the church where no-one prayed.
In the corner sat your angel.
Weeping dusty tears while the universe cracked.
This second of truth, in a century of lies.
That angels cried. That god was still alive.
Such grave confessions.
If we ripped open heaven.
It wouldn’t be sky anymore.
There wouldn’t be a dawn to tomorrow, to a day you prayed would end.
Only the maddening loop of the well packed past.
Your angel sits and frames a beauty as the sun sets.
And the moon once more floods the heart.
We’re just diamonds and tears in the moonlight.
Lapped by the evening tide.
So write you wish in the sacred book, between thin pages.
Keep your dreams and your wants quiet.
I will look away.
Hoping the secrets never include me.
Then pass the book to that little corner.
And let the earth break open once more.
As the ascent of man can only come again.
At the restoration, not the fall, of angels.
The filling of love in god’s teeth.
That cracked on the sweet destruction of the old you.

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Tender

Like the night. A soft velvet expanse.
Reaching through time.
Through misty eyes which open wide.
They devour me.
In a kiss that kills me, over and over.
Yet tenderly I swim down.
Passing jagged words you keep inside.
Released, only to the moon.
As you howl them into nothingness.
For tender is your way.
Sweet bruises of affection which stay,
within us forever.
As we nestle into the tender wings of love.
Slipping into time.

Emanations from the one

Bright lights twinkle on these hundred million pieces.
Locked moments of time.
Flashes of smiles now suffocated.
In a joy that squeezes and binds.
You drew the stars when the clouds robbed the sky.
In my sleep you float like a million moons on the tide.
Dust and light, blanketing my heart.
When I wake I’m still soaking in these dreams.
A bewitching glow of a secret only I know.
You, holding back the waves and the dark.
Plunging a sword into the sea of sadness.
Letting the world know I was stronger.
One kiss makes the galaxy explode.
And I live out that day, covered in starlight.
And thoughts of home.

A Funeral of thoughts

An earthy taste in your mouth.
The soil that slips from your lunar lips.
Is a burying of the old.
Broken thoughts grown frail and forgotten.
They’d rambled in your mind like an aged pensioner.
One that no-one bothered to check on.
Whose milk bottles of intent built up on their doorstep.
These thoughts tried to slip away in the night.
Silently and painless in the light of a new day.
In the light you bring.
Those thoughts that are the shadows of self.
From the dark side of the moon of the mind.
Fearful of the sun, that shines from your eyes.
Dirt, on my pillow when I wake.
Burying the thoughts in dreams masked as nightmares.
Finally, dead and buried.

Precious little pulse

The earth inhaled as I held my own breath.
You waited to breathe again.
Gold expanded in your lungs.
Midasly watching and waiting.
I counted the heartbeats.
The darkness between us and the moon.
Everything added up, yet made little sense.
Your bones are getting tired while you turn blue.
And a distance begins to grow in your eyes.
One kiss for good intentions.
A step back for a wrong turn.
We are angels in flight.
We were wings above the ocean of thought.
I counted each eyelash while you dreamt.
I waited for you to breathe once more.
And though you stand there with gold pouring from you.
Your smile is more precious than a sky of sapphires.
Or a river of rubies.
As we sail on, with your hand in mine.

Burn upwards

You, like a million pieces of an eclipse.
Falling on me like a Friday night.
You pepper my world with smiles.
Like stars peeking out of the black blanket of night.
You take me to such gravity.
You ask me to disengage.
A resistance that seems futile as I wash in your orbit.
Streaming down into the sapphire sway of your words.
Licking at my mind.
You, like a light in a field at night.
Leaving circles across my heart.
I count the halos. I watch for the dawn.
And you stay.

Sun killing moon

This bird flew too high.
Trapped like bugs in amber, in that tangerine sky.
You called it out to sea, you called me up to god.
Lost in your beauty.
Displaced in your gentle fog.
For that violent sky of yours threatens and thwarts.
Tumbling down rain, lightening and thoughts.
That nip and pluck the feathers of our dove.
Trying to fill the void, of your eternal pillow with love.
But your seasons shift, and our continents divide.
Out into the galaxy; you quit, run and hide.
For you are cold too my touch.
And through my hands you now slip.
Though I want you so much.
We’re just a sad sinking ship.
Cut loose into space, and scuttled way too soon.
For I’m just the sun, in love with the moon.

So deep, so central

Pretty pieces, pretty please.
Tie these moments down to my knees.
Kiss me once and kiss me twice.
Run your fingers through my life.
Rock me to sleep with your cooing words.
Then fly me to the moon on big lunar birds.
Or down to the depths like ocean horses.
Singing softly songs in subterranean choruses.
That drift out of caves, and onto the tide.
Covered in shells down deep where I hide.
Because it’s in your arms, and in your heart.
Where I crawl when things get dark.
And touch your warm skin when mine’s like stone.
For in your eyes, it feels like home.

Particular illusions

To sleep under the stars, and to count the heavens.
A result of you burning my bed.
I lie on the cool grass and watch out for comets.
Racing from Olympus to Paradise.
I pulled off the ropes and entanglements.
Escaping with my life, but not my soul.
And now the clouds that cover the milky way.
Blotting out the moon.
Is just the smoke, from the ashes of our home.
Yet suddenly you appear, covered in moon dust.
With starlight diamonds in your eyes.
And you take my hand, and tip the sky over.
Shaking out the stars.
Promising me treasure to be found in our ruins.

Heliocentric detours

A story unfolding at the speed of life.
Unplugged or imbedded.
I think I missed the Milky Way.
Drinking once more from a cup of stars.
Do these words seem familiar?
As they slide once more into focus.
Chewing on your past like a shark in a bathtub.
Filled to the brim with sorrow.
Eyes, that are empty.
Call for tomorrow.
As your moon hangs heavy in your heart.
Blue, like the subterfuge that shrieks past like a shooting star.
Call it what you want, taste it like confusion.
But be sure to rinse you mouth with the irresistible.
And swallow the sublime.

Do, what you don’t

Do you need some assistance?
While the moon falls, and the waves turn black.
That notorious liar.
All joy that expired, when they decided to stay.
Robbing and rubbing. Making little nests for magpie memories.
It found you, such violent forgiveness.
Crashing into your cells while your conscience slept.
And do you wake to pray?
Do you mean to say, you would give it all back?
Sin crouches at the door.
God hovers on your lips.
And still, you remain the same.

Echoes in arbitrary flow

Through this darkness, you felt you way.
Fingers in decay, while you groped for something.
I told you, you knew it then.
I would be waiting.
As the moon rolled away like the end of a film.
And the sadness reeled you in.
You held your breath and counted the silence.
Little drops like chips in teeth.
Tiny shifts, the tectonic plates deciding.
I hovered above.
My eyes light like a dove in its pirouetting flight.
I stripped your mind like a Christmas tree in January.
Shed. Cold. Naked.
And ready.
Placing candles in skulls to light your way.
The bodies of your old self, at use after all.
We swim out of the concrete, and into the sky.
Minds now alive and deliberating.
Of which wing to fly upon.
Which sky to pull down and cover us.
To disappear here.

Beyond the edges of reason

How did they pluck the flowers of me?
The budding explosion of perfume and pride.
Each one pushed through such dark deep earth.
The soil and shit of a life in this age.
With their eyes they take.
With their hands they snatch.
Groping and tearing at the petals of my mind.
To say the tears watered the earth, sullens those drops so innocent.
Muddies the pools in which my heart swims within.
So I keep them out.
I fence it in.
Planting pansies in the mouth of the weeping willows.
Building the trees tall that they reach up to heaven.
Where I can make my escape.
To plant fresh seeds in the lunar lawns of eternity.
Alone and content, to watch it all from space.

White/Blue – Part II

(part I here)

Ice on the edge of space

She slept of course, that’s how she’d gotten there. Trapped in a dream that travelled across sky and time. It wasn’t far really, not within her scheme of things. Europa was really the backyard to Earth’s green and blue house; compared to the places she’d been and seen. The trip was quick, a blink of the inner eye for her. Sleeping, forming, and settling into something new in which to emerge from. No-one knew she had left, she made it that way. It wasn’t sneaking out the backdoor or running away, merely moving to the place she knew she would blossom. Unfold in the weighted gravity and expand like the sea coral in her mind.

Getting there was the easy part. She would not miss her home moon, she was not one for looking back. Too many shards of ice poking her into a position she knew she’d outgrown. She had breathed her last and stepped into her waiting transport, bidding a silent farewell to her gods, before becoming one herself. She had shaken her teeth out, burying them deep into the subterranean ice, like planting a seed without the expectation of growth. A silly ritual, one from her childhood. Sealing overt the past and welcoming a new dawn. She’d marked the spot with taldium stones. Smooth onyx rocks that looked like fillings from a gigantic beast. This was all she left behind. New teeth grew inside her as she’d slept in the transport, hurtling across the cosmos as the milk teeth grew and fused together in the depths of space.

Her heart had guided it. The comet that buckled and flayed in the pressures of the vast unknown. Steaming up in the re-entry to a land she’d never entered before. It had lit up the sky across a remote part of china, heralding change and ill omens to the many onlookers who captured it in their eyes as they gathered around their small communal fires. Her heart beat, her skin stretched. Her mind collapsed a million times only to be reborn and steer the transport to that spot. A spot chosen, not for its ease or any strategic opportunity. It was chosen for its sole reason alone, the reason she had left Europa in the first place. It was where the one was, the one who could change her and perhaps, even save her.


Detach and connect

Steam began to gather around them now, the snow and air evaporated temporarily while the remains of the comet and the contents hissed and spewed in the hole in the ground. The lady of the jars didn’t hesitate, she hoped into the hole and began pulling away at the stray tendrils that had not joined the body. She pulled and heaved, working it free and pulling it away like a tooth from a root. Her hands were raw from the cold, but the blue liquid quickly covered them and the pain subsided. She was resourceful, years of chopping wood for her fire and toiling her own yard had given her strength and determination. She lifted the body like a doll off the floor, heaving it over her should; the doll now a sack of flour to be carried into her cottage. Snow began to cover the hole, the marked earth smeared black and blue began to be covered once more in the blanket of white the lady of the jars had always cherished. Soon there would be little evidence of any visitor. It was a secret she was eager to keep to herself, and with that thought she hurried quickly inside.

Closing the door, she took the body over to the fire in her living room. Her house was sturdy, and she could only just hear the howling blizzard outside, the fire crackling over the sound of the perpetual winter. She placed the body carefully, then stoked the fire before taking off her cardigan which was now wet with melted snow and ice. The blue liquid began to slacken, but it did not pool off onto the floor; instead it collected into droplets which lifted up into the air, disappearing like tiny ghosts.  She stood back and watched the transformation, the cocooned being separating into the body of a girl. The hair and skin humming to life with a florescent radiance which faded to healthy glow. The girl’s eyes suddenly blinked open and she sat up. Her eyes, those azure wells that pierced the room flashed and opened up a doorway to another space. A land beyond the stars. The lady of the jars handed her a throw which she kept draped across her good chair, and wordlessly the girl surrounded herself in it. Embracing the warmth and kindness the protection it offered. They sat there in the quiet for some time, having a conversation with no words but levelling out their worlds.

“Tea, that always helps a situation.” The lady said, standing up slowly as not to frighten the girl. The ageless entity that sat on her rug in front of the warming heat. “You stay by the fire, I’ll bring it in.” she said, bustling out into the kitchen. She boiled the kettle and took down the jar of green chai, tipping the leaves merrily into the giant teapot she always had on the side. Though she lived alone, she always devoured copious amounts of tea, and the giant teapot was a testament to it. She filled it up with the bubbling water, and added some crushed almonds, swirling them around inside. She grabbed some small glasses and returned to the living room with the refreshments; popping them down on the side. Though it had been snowing hard and the day was dark, it was now growing darker she noticed, finding the light from the lamp post at the end of her path gaining more strength in the encroaching shadow.

“You must have travelled far, here drink this; it’ll help.” She said, handing the girl a small glass of the tea. The girl reached out with her swan like hand and the lady noticed it then, the etching on her arm. It was a pattern, words even, in some sort of languages; she was sure her book could tell her. These weren’t just dead prints like tattooed skin. The pattern and words swam with life, like a moving aquarium dance of blue hue and light, rippling across the skin, growing strong then faint like a conflicting idea.

“Thank you.” The girl said, reaching for the glass. Her teeth split apart for her to speak, having fused together on her journey. The words were understandable to the lady’s ears, but anyone else from anywhere else would have understood, the language fitting the ear of the listening, wrapping around the mind and settling in the soul. A sweet whisper of a voice, like a feather landing on a petal. Delicate, but hiding a secret strength of flight.

“Are you…” the lady began, but was interrupted by an abrupt and determined knock at her blue door. It wasn’t the pheasants this time, that she knew.


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Lucent

Consumed the visible but abstract.
Light, after all is but energy with intent.
Allow it to illuminate your veins, choke the strains;
and the dark cancer I could not eat.
Be not like the stirring waxing moon.
Capricious with its vanity.
It’s changing form to its circumstance.
Be strong, like the sun.
A burning fire that cannot ever go back.
Raging with reason, and a deadline to know when to stop.

WHITE/BLUE

(for Naomi and Gina)


The lady of the jars

It was snowing. It always snowed. That’s how she liked it.

The swirling white that enveloped everything, dusting and smothering all in a wonderland. There was more variety in snow she’d always thought. A sunny day was nice, for a trip to the beach or a stroll in the park; but sunny days were predictable, ordinary, and what everyone wanted. Snow, on the other hand created such chaos and difference.

Her cottage was nestled right by the huge stream that swept through the core of the little village of Hamani. It was near enough for her to grab the things she needed from the stores and the like, but just far enough on the outskirts where she could find the solitude and quiet she relished. That’s not to say she was lonely. She was always visited upon by someone knocking on her door and trampling their life into her small little abode. Each day brought something her way, but she always had the choice of opening that small blue door of hers to see what awaited. Some days she would sit by the fire, listening to the rhythmic knocking on the door, picturing not the tired salesman trying to entice her to part with her coins; but instead the small wood pigeons or pheasants tapping their beaks on the wood.

She had been called many things in her time. She wasn’t old, though some days her bones seemed to be. She would bustle around her cottage with the spirit of a teenager, ignoring the small ache in her joints. The cold heightened it, but she would never admit that.

Witch had been thrown her way once. Princess too though, that had been even more painful to hear.

Most saw her as a wise woman with magic, but of the good kind that you knew you were safe to inquire about. She knew the flowers and the herbs, the healing nature of the world that surrounded her small little cottage by the stream with the wood overstretching its reach to her doorstep. People came with their children who would play in the snow and then toast themselves by the fire while their parents would acquire an ointment or potion to help with some pain. Sometimes the kids of the village would come to hear the stories she would tell over huge bubbling cups of hot chocolate. The towering piles of books that dotted her home loomed over all who came there. Hers was a place of possibilities, and it was called ‘Dustings’, and she was the ruler of her own little kingdom.

Though she was an honest soul, people had no idea of the true power that dwelt in her little home. They saw the plants and spices that filled every draw and nook. The witch hazel and birch that swirled in its hued state on the walls. Secrets gained from the botany books and fables that stuck out of drawers and were lodged under table legs. But they did not know, and they never would, of what she kept in her secret room.

It had always surprised her really. No enchantment had kept it hidden, and the noise and light that came from the tiny room at the back of her cottage was enough to entice even the most mildly curious pair of eyes. Yet secret it remained, an indication of the respect many had for her more than fear.

Locked by a tiny key she kept around her neck, the secret room was not large at all. More of a store room usually catering tinned foods or laundry detergent. But here, here is where she kept her jars. Luminous and terrifying, magical and mesmerising. The jars were small really, able to be held in the palm of your hand. Each one filled with light and motion. She bottled them you see, the weather systems. She kept all the aspects of elements, siphoned off into their purest from and bottled. Her own collection of small ships. How she had learned to do this, only she would ever know. But there they are, lined up next to each other on her shelves in her secret place. She would rotate them into seasons, or sometimes calamities. A good thunderstorm would go well with heavy wind and hail.

These bottles were most precious to her, and she never misused them. She was always mindful of the good she could do, and the darkness she would always be able to lighten. Most precious of all were the snow-scapes. The blizzards, and the flurries raging away in their little jars which had cooled to a frosted glass beauty there on the shelf. These she kept in their own section, away from the heatwaves and the monsoons. She would sometimes come and sit by these little vials and watch the dance of the nature there contained behind the glass. A snowglobe of the most literal sense. She wasn’t playing god with her treasures, she was only capturing the beauty of god.

These names the people had for her, she always smiled when she heard them muttered in hushed tones. But to herself, she was always the lady of the jars.


The Visitor

It was a strong blizzard that blew the snow and the ice that day. It blotted out the sunlight entirely, plunging the village in a darkening grey fog. No one left their house except for urgent business, and save for the howling wind, all was quiet. The lady of the jars was anxious, which explained the weather. She would sometimes open up a raging thunderstorm when the bad moods really took hold, but on the days when she was worried, the blizzards came to cover and dispel everything. The paradox of still and motion, certainty and doubt.

She had woken that day with a feeling. Something nibbling at her mind like a bird pecking at her finger. She had pottered about her cottage, finding things to do to occupy her brain. Changing the sheets, dusting the ornaments, cleaning the kitchen cupboards. All to subdue that fretful feeling inside. But her skull itched and her fingers twitched. Something was coming, she felt it in her bones. She knew the something was different, a thing that was to impact her life and change her course drastically. This, in part led to her anxiousness. Though unafraid of change, she worried she might lose her power to bottle the wonders that she had kept hidden and safe. This was the one loss she feared, the change that worried her. Her own priceless art gone.

She looked outside. The flurries had whipped up high on her window and she could barely see to the end of the small path which led to the dirt track towards the village. A lonely lamplight shone off in the distance, the one she knew marked the start of her path. It hummed and glowed pitifully in the blanketing white, like the heart of a huge beast teetering on the edge of eternal sleep. All of a sudden, a loud bang sounded above her cottage. It boomed in through her walls and knocked picture frames off the shelves. She let out a small yelp, and clutched her chest. She knew it was beginning there, on that at snowy day. At eleven o’clock in the morning. She knew, and she suddenly smiled.


Europa down

She pulled open her back door, the wind hurtling inside like an invisible hand knocking through. Though she had control over the weather, it wasn’t an on/off magic that tingled in her fingertips. She knew there was a time delay in which to shift into a new weather pattern. Making the unnatural reasonably natural. She hadn’t even gone to her small secret room to change the weather, her heart was hammering in excitement and she hadn’t bothered. Besides, the blizzard added to the drama that was unfolding in her backyard.

She stepped out into the cold and was suddenly covered with thick snowflakes. Her feet were cold, she had stepped out with only her slippers on, but the pull was hastening forward, caring not a button for the numbing that quickly came in her legs. She pulled her jumper up over her mouth and ploughed on through towards the thing she could see now. She noticed the remnants of stardust peppered across the sky above her. Something had landed and at the bottom of the garden. An asteroid, or could it be…… No, it was alive. Her blood told her that. It pulled and ebbed inside her seeking out the magic of life, seeking out the different.

She made her way forward, her eyelashes thick with snow and ice. He heart was pounding, it drummed in her ears against the wind.

Then suddenly, she was there. Standing over it. In shock for the sight before her eyes. Stardust splattered the snow around. Golden fragments coated the ground and the air, locked in a static tableau of exploding space. The gold drifted off into the air while the stained ground faded to a neon blue. The impact had made a small dent in the soil, like a giant ice-cream scoop and plunged into the earth. At the bottom, covered in stands of blue was what she knew it must be. The fallen. Some called them fallen stars, objects from the cosmos that littered the earth when they tumbled from heaven. She looked in closer, her mind suddenly skimming that book she kept safely locked in her cupboard along with her jars. Then she saw the blue tendrils stiffen, like neon roots tightening around their precious cargo. Bits of snow and dust seeped down in-between each one, melting into a liquid that oozed and formed around the body. Encasing it in a protective shell.

Europa, that was what this is. Her mind had summoned the right passage in her book, she saw it now clearly in the bright blue font that had burst off the page. That book which had come to her from her mother. The secret to her magic and light of heart. It had come before, once before long ago. All the way from another space.

The girl from Europa. Now in a small hole in the bottom of her garden. And she knew there, in the whistling silence that time was short, and things would always be different from here on out.

….to be continued

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In this particular sphere

With only minutes to save the world,
she bent down low.
Crying out a river of stars to fasten to the stratosphere.
The salty ocean of a million prayers never answered.
Streaming into the volcanic centre of the world.
Humming like the moon.
Spinning like the earth’s axis.
Crashing through the cosmos with all but love.
She looked once more at the interstellar void.
The one orbiting each of us.
And she smiled, as she ignites the sun inside.
Then leaves on a chariot to the gods.
Knowing we’ll be okay.

Adeline

Adeline, why do you trouble me so?
Why do you pull down the stars and the moon?
Chalking up these eyes with lunar dust and wonder.
Oh Adeline, do not speak my name.
It crumbles my ground and shakes my resolve.
Moving my inner mantle with volcanic changes of heart
Oh sweet Adeline, keep those lips the distance of the sun.
Rising from my eastern treasure like the dawn.
Blinding if I look that way.
My Adeline, I wish I knew you then.
When my world could make a house for you.
In the forest of fidelity when we were both young.
Goodbye Adeline, you will always dwell in my hope chest.
Covered in gold at the bottom of the fathoms.
Yet locked away in time by a key you will never own.

Perpendicular persistence

This love is obscene.
How it builds to a waking dream.
Your hand in mine, as we cross the great divide.
Stepping into now as the cliffs crash below us.
I’ll be your aeroplane, you rocket to the moon.
Smear the sugar on my heart.
So numb to the taste of artificial sweetener.
You’re the real thing.
Familiar reflections dancing with the shadows.
All off stage, and now out of sight.
Those long forgotten poses, positions to the left and right.
Wanting it all, wanting only to be wrong.
Your eyes are devouring me and I swim in the stomach of your love.
Crushing bones and the tar that used to keep me together.
Swallow it down.
Change my blood to gasoline and set me on fire.
To light our way.
To drift away, into love once more.
Eclipsing the moon tonight.

Lost in Tibetan snow

Winter tickled at his heart.
He found the snow of a thousand years cover his feet while he slept;
in the glowing dreams of a Himalayan moon.
Rambling across a dreamscape that promised much change.
The little links in a chain of the forgotten.
He shed his skin like the leaves.
Floated away to liquid and a utopia on the back of a comet.
His mind hardened by the rocks he pulled from his stomach.
The teeth of the terrible that fell away like empty bottles.
Pooling in his soul.
If you care to look, you may find him.
Casting shadows on the moon while the wind breaks.
Peering into your head while the dreams suspended you.
Eating on the decay of your heart, as the world turns.
He was never one for this earth.
Which is why he does not cry when it crumbles.

Sky stained satin

Your eyes picked out the moon that night.
Reflecting lunar memories and utopia.
I remember the rain on your skin.
And those words you had held deep within.
The goodbye corroded my heart and the lava love.
Those volcanic changes of emotions that shook my soul.
Whispering words you hoped I never heard.
And you shot us down like a low flying bird.
Flicking away the dew drops that had stained your eyelashes.
Flicking away both me and pieces of the past.
You pulled that heart out of me.
Leaving me to breathe underwater in a black lonely sea.
The lights shift. Cracking to burn as you departed.
Lighting your way into a new design.
Somewhere in my memory, that rain never ends.
The moon will shine off your skin like Saturns rings.
And the twilight will stick to my eyelids like sleep.
Somewhere before that I will always be kissing you.
Where the sky is stained purple, and the rain pulls down.
And love still courses through my heart.