Lucid lyrics

This one body

of water

This one me,

one drop in a sea-

where matter makes

greater than one

me and

to see a body-

Like mine

drenched in spirit

like the One 

This is some thing

only I can feel

this one reality

of a Being

that changes

less or more

and more or less

by blood and water

when every thing is 

Exposed

Nothing is just 

itself.

Image by Dietmar Rabich / in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons / “Wassertropfen -- 2021 -- 8024” / CC BY-SA 4.0.

Holding hands

I had a grip.

A naked palm clenched

around,

I had a handle on the thing

softly carrying it with me,

until I noticed

the odd itch of thick blood

sliding down and out 

between my fingers.

Holding on too tight

but feeling nothing 

of pain or wounds

after barely

holding on so long,

I observed myself

doing it wrong.

After all-

the petals had fallen

behind me

leaving 

choices made for me.

No blessings to count,

no scent

to take in-

and it must have been dead

who knows how long...

Dried and brittle

piercing-

This is 

how I knew

He loved me not. 

Painting by Carolus-Duran, 'Portrait of Lucy Lee Robbins' by Carolus Duran, dated 1884 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. 

A duel purpose

I try to hold my balance on the
edge of this blade
whose hilt is in your firm grasp
and our history of incidental equipoise
clumsily
refuses to align-

would not any line
a muttering muse utter
true up to,
assist or desist us en guard
such strife-like loves twist on life
when the incision has been made

deeper, for us
while trying to maintain a sharp sense
of the point that tips
scales and armor
by design and intent

to inflict and to cradle conflict,
to penetrate and promptly
turn away-saying nothing
about the warm blood spilt
and simmering on the cool concrete
where we once made connection.


Painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme (1824-1904) 'Duel after a masquerade ball', c. 1859 in Public domain.

Flash point

When ideas
hit air
they turn from blue to red,
originating from the short wavelength
inside
to form long low rollers of crimson tide
depositing turbid drops
of inklings.

The idea
tries to crystalize
along the smooth open facet
trying to adhere to open wounds
only to become
solid and reformed.
Ages ago,
raw material was re-collected and
re-presented as pure, a commodity
of our invention.

A single blinding glimmer,
like a square grain of sand
may find itself
a fully rounded pearl
over time and under toes
we find this same potential
scattered across elemental
boundaries.

Carbon in cubes
could become a diamond,
coal, a mote of dust, or Us
bearing the weight
of six million atmospheres
while making light
of such intense pressure
to create beauty
from conception.


Painting by Karel Dujardin (1622-1678) , 'Allegory' c. 1663 in Public Domain. 

Ex-ist

I am
feeling myself,
finally

Sinking
in-
to

This
warm pool of,
light
easily blood or

Life-like.


Painting by John Henry Twachtman (1853-1902), 'Figure in Sunlight' (Artists wife) c. 1890-1900 in [Public domain].

Plywood windows

If I could wear soft and loose clothes
every day
                and be taken seriously,
forgetting for a moment
that comfort is for lesser creatures,
I would be less ill
                              at ease
and more sensitive to
zippers and seams.

I lost a drinking habit years ago
and found every thing
                                    sharper with age,
which does not clot the
bleeding, or numb the
site                     I remember I last had it
with me,
my cups are bone dry since this thirst
has all
but evaporated
making the air thicker around me.

If I found a diamond encased
in every silver lining,
                  carbon acting under the pressure
                  of those that have convinced me
                  to forgive
                  in these conditions
                  with sparkles on top,
I would have tasted love
                  on the rocks,
and choked on the hardest facets.

Time is our only personal property.

In-kind, community property
has foreclosed upon the pearl gates.
These lips have been boarded up
to deter any passer by's
                                       from dwelling.

It may not be safe
to live this way
without proper uniforms,
window dressings
and with naked wrists,
lacking a steady leg to pivot upon       
                             in order to see things
as they are
and find slighted contentment
enough of a shelter and shield
from monsoons and bad moons rising
every weak day.




Photo credit: Carol M. Highsmith, Kinney County, Texas. 2014 [Public domain].

Settle in

Gathered all

I could manage

to ex-press-

an in-audible

scream

that left the bereft-

ness expended
under foot.

See

me

as I never was.

I am only

Now

as can be

good enough
to reach.

Not a word would match

the fiery-ness,

not a wet thought lying

around to ignite

the waxed wick
convinced in ambiance.

Shivered at the losses

when the blood concentrates

on the speed it needs
to lose groud, to blur
the lines.

It was always time

and matter to dwindle the days
back into a neat stack.

Meanwhile,

my toes curl

atop a thin sole

inside the shoes I have outgrown
I am misshapen.

One day

I will feel

the temperature of the earth

and find it

just right
where I happen to Be.

Painting by Lucien Pissarro, c. 1900 in [Public domain].

How salt takes to wounds

I made it-
not to say that it is done-
that I can breathe now
that I know this.

I am here
none-the-less
by the sea
all-the-more-
for me-
guilty
pleasures are all mine
in fine coarse grains.

I am aware,
consciously,
that the measure of success
is off the charts, the beaten path
off the grid,
infinite and yet most
definitely a direction,
like horizon.

It does not move me
along-
but still, I bother
to rise to each occasion,
daytime, in lightyears
despite the erosion, in spite of doubt,
the tides still rise
in order
to pull stars in
circular motions,
like me, reeling.

I am pulled back to sea.
The end begins again
with me
mixing carbon and salt,
separating oil from water
I found a solution
to stop the bleeding.




Watercolor by William Matthew Hodgkins c. 1894 in Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Rhetorical riddling

Do you know this one?

What is propped up like a scarecrow,
but attracts small children?
What is semi-sweet
covering up?
Don’t answer that. Let us guess,
‘x’ or N/A, or maybe D-side,
all of the above.
And if all of your friends walked into a bar,
does it guarantee
all the horses drink
some algae
grasping at straws?

One golden delicious apple lies
about where it fell from,
while one woman and one man
stand around, wondering, Who
Dropped the first fruit.

If the man in charge of expending
Energy does not spend it by the hour
is he still working at the same rate?

What is blue, but only red when emitted
erratically? Emotion.
Twenty people gathered,
All twenty wanted to be happy. They said
some were-
despite how they stood under
the influence.

How many
Left turns
did we take
to make it all Right

living in circles.

Painting by John William Waterhouse [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Hex-ameter in cent-imeters

The spoken curse at last 

resonance on red lips 

from dripping fingertips-

May you live in interesting 

Times (chorus again).

Thy will be done -Here-

at all costs

Thy-

Will be done.


Painting by Charles Bird King [CC0 or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Finger prints

Fingers fly across the keys as wings would

cut through cloud space,

wishing everyone was watching

this dialectical mastery in the dicing

of an apple pip up, cubed,

without drawing a drop

of blood.

Beads swell and dangle daunting disconnection

of liquid self, wrung inside out.

Friction finds itself most magnetic

just under the tips

tapped dry.

The raised ink stains the held note.

Painting by Giovanni Battista Naldini (c. 1563-65) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Oh-Neg

Leeching was done to draw out the bad blood.
And miraculously, we could be
drained nearly completely
while still
denying death
with the proper tools.

In precise implements like these;
pens and needles,
probe and penetrate
the surface, thus
it is most succinctly the human touch
that feels
a pulsing flow of ink
throbbing at the tips, and a
rush and steady flow
that gushes, drips and runs on
to remind
the patient
how to heal a hemorrhaging
or from a tainted transfusion of bad blood.




Image by Abraham Janssens [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

all that cannot blend

trying to show green flash-
hear a heart flame burst
along with the after effect of shock
and awe
with rolling whispers when arisen
out from shadowed souls-
As it would be seen-from where you are,
already white demonstrates for us,
space occupied for air and water,
yes oil and blood are better
for what has been said.



Image By ISS Expedition 23 crew (NASA Earth Observatory) Sunset from the Space station [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Elementary and Primary

Basically,

these three things;

(by) Blood, (by) Air, and (by) Sea

and their causation with us

we are able feel inertia
in these,from these
most elementary, learn of

likeness, of course-ness, like us, 

matching a certain momentum, 

catching Time in between any of these

molecular miracles, mimicking 

all that we are (not) and more

that we may bear witness

as Being

as Blue

And though, it may seem true, 

temporarily

but truly, beneath all three,

as deep as one could show,

I know and have long said

I would paint them red instead.

Call me color-blind

and paint me white

whatever you do

don't say,

I shouldn't be blue.

Image of painting by József Rippl-Rónai [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Oct-1-en-3-one (The smell of blood)

You know the taste of your own blood-
You remember you are made mortal-
You reminisce, ruminate in your recipe-
Notes you only know.................................
Those little letters in a vial;
coded coagulation's in combinations
of more than A O B and sometimes Y,
negatives and positives make a clot...........
...a conspiracy of hematology....................
the platelets are empty and white say
Editors of assemblage, connoisseurs of flow...
-Professors of Anatomy-
Who stick it to you, bleed you out, dry to the bone,
just as they always have, herding en mass-
Ewe, the sacrificial lamb.................................

Blood banks built on quicksand
distributing to the needy.

Even today, the cast off sprays the same;
luminol illuminating outcasts-
no doubt, not good enough
to save a life, strategic
in a pinch, a gash gushing................................
anemia, academia-
non-hemocyanin, un-blue-
contaminated, un-oxygenated, discarded
in the slush pile.................................................
There will always be more
able bodies, anti-bodies, veins to tap,
an aortic (Au(ction) gold mine..........................
We are blood letting machines-
We give and take life in sips-
We can taste (Fe(ar) our iron-
Will drained-
We work up to sap-
slowly................................................................
only to give it away for free
Keeping the leeches alive.

Most pungent when fresh, bread and newspapers drop in value proportional to their scent of newness.

Image By No 1 Army Film & Photographic Unit, Chetwyn (Sgt) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.