Ascension

Earned this, countless bruises inside and outside to show for it.

Happiness wrapped in love, grounded in truth, stitched to the essence of your very being.

Fear is a stranger and trust sleeps at your side.

Tea cools on the balcony as soft dreams await, accept it –

Sparkling floors and no ceilings, quiet drives through the countryside on mini-vacations,

Singing and dancing after too much mezcal,

Kissing like teenagers
under mistletoe.

The smoky skies and endless nights of the city banished to a reliquary of

youthful indescretions, painful lessons, and fond memories to look back on.

Gift

Venus and Cupid – Circle of Jacopo Sansovino (Courtesy of The Getty Center)

Give me
endless adoration, say my name tongue-filled with passion
Feed me
thirst for exploration, wander my mind, your untamed woodland.
Drown me
in a sea of raging devotion and cry in ire as I drift away.
This body
on display, on my terms only.
Goddess in a temple, come forth and worship me.
It’s not enough
the last bit of brandy,
the last kiss, the last touch,
the last sunset watched.
Bring me
the unattainable,
memories wrapped in silk and naïevité forever.
a field of “I’d nevers,”
Blood, sweat, the dreams you covet
Give it all, so we can burn it and start again.

Jack Parsons

Beyond it, moving through the cosmos unbounded,
Test it with a few vinegar phrases, but those wounds have been healed now for ages,
what’s your motive anyhow? we’re just strangers with a familiar sense of each other’s coding,
How much progress occurs by way of quiet judgement?
Fuck it. We’re all hypocrites, but try to feel it,
Can’t relate? Well that’s alright,
just sit steady while the angel launches.

Connection

(talk to me) so cheap all it takes is some stimulating conversation.
Listen in intently and you might just lure out secrets I didn’t even know existed.
Is it love if you find yourself falling every fifteen seconds? Is is real,
does it matter if you both can feel it?
To be frank, can’t quite relate to my peers (never could),
and I don’t expect to be understood by the many anymore, just leaving this behind for the few,
the bleeding hearts of the future to try to decipher,
on a cold night, when the wind howls and they’re searching for signs that they aren’t completely alone,
that the sadness isn’t forever,
that the void won’t devour them whole.

I can’t color inside the lines

Sprawled out on a mountainside, shrouded in leaves and half-severed vines, I confess to be a wild thing, but you do not hear me.

Spill my blood to write fresh poems that defy rhyme and meter, each word alive, dripping with fervor, but you never read me.

Shouting/marching/fighting for compassion ’til my throat is dry, legs are weak, mind grows fatigued, yet you fail to see me.

In the soft glow of the afternoon, I sing a sad refrain, but the meaning is lost while the melody remains, so you do not feel me.

Still onward I careen, hopes unfettered, dreams undisturbed, for I learned long ago not to bury my soul in any single place or person.

And For My Next Trick …Happiness

Sad songs soothe me, whether summer days spent soaking in the sun, or winters shut up indoors enveloped in a good book, warm blankets, hot tea,
My soul only knows despair with short intervals of joy.
Madness, maybe,
But you can recharge my battery in the woods, the forest floor my corridor to some unexplained source of vitality.
That or let me breathe in salty ocean air,
Drown my old self in the cold, dark, blue of the Pacific,
Rise from the waves anew.
Born again and again in and out of your arms, watch me take off
like Apollo 11.

Balancing the day and the night, the light and the darkness, emotion and might.