Free
Verse
My
Shrine Is Black
Dark drops
of night dripped upwards into the sky
as day slithered off into the bushes and my heart
shed another skin within its armor plated motors
spinning and whirring in hummingbird precision.
Hey you she said from a slit in the wall of time
and as she slowly fell into view her skirt rode up
on her smooth thighs and her hair blew back from
the wind coming off the cliffs where the full moon
is coming up soon whistling a pale melancholy tune.
Hold me tight I said before the next day has a chance
to fulfill its unknown destiny and possibly take us
away and out of our minds with cinnamon and ginger
roots growing out of my guitar as it sits on the chair
I sit in when I write the words that become the real
things that appear soon after I write them down.
Music poured from her fingertips in muted tones
of silver and gold as she clasped me in her embrace
and I fell into the no man's land in front of a red wall
that she seemed to enjoy pushing me through over
and over again with no mercy whatsoever.
By brick and mortar ye shall have no quarter
eye of newt and wing of bat ye shall let the black cat
cross your path and break the mirror in the haunted
mansion that we are entering at this very moment
can't you feel it welcome us with open arms as if
to say finally you are home at last.
Light the candles and say the prayers
it's time for bed and then the dreams will start
when the shadows slide up and out the windows
and dance on the rooftops with shrieks and
screams that echo down the valleys to the quaint
cottages and dwellings where the simple folk live
god what would it be like to live like that just
for one long sunny happy care free day in the sun.
But there is no way you say to go back to that existence
you belong here with me by the sea
where gardens and crows and winding streets and strange
pungent flowers crowd the narrow alleys with explosions
of weird colors and my love was reborn in deep ripples
of crimson knives sunk deep in the flesh I could not see
but my god could I feel it cutting and reshaping me
as the wind tosses a kite and makes it dance in the sky.
Each time she greeted me at her door a new initiation
began and ended simultaneously with camouflaged
kisses masquerading as honey drenched tenderness
but underneath it was really the empty face of the
mask of death grinning and grinding me into dust as
fast as my dreams would come and go.
I refuse to accept the mask I said and she just laughed
and smiled because there is no way to deny the
temporary nature of our bodies as they caress and
touch and try to get close to the lover that appears
when we are in the lovestream and ready to
receive the blessing of the little star.
Get in my dreams and get out of reality she implored
and I stood and watched as she put oil on her legs
when she did not know I was there.
Curves and lines are all we are when you get right
down to it and the sooner we all get used to it
the better she told me and I have no reason
to disbelieve her.
Summer came and summer went in colors I had
never seen before and maybe never would again
until a new year heated the coals under the fire
of futures yet to come in hazy misty downpours
umbrella filled and cloud parted blue sky wet
and pine scented with the winter and all its
quiet subdued joy.
Paintings of huge flowers spread their openings
wide for me as I looked deep into their canvas
crevices of lust and longing at the gallery where
transparent people seemed to float away as we
approached in all our glittering heat and the glory
of our love as it radiated out in huge waves of
jeweled rose petals adorned with drops of rain
pain and the stain of life as it kills us a piece at
a time until chaos silences all at last.
Late at night I sit alone with my thoughts
such as they are
and I think of all the magic still to come
and all the magic that has gone before and it is
in these solitary times she comes to me and looks
at me with eyes of soft fire that burn in the night
and light my way so that I can see the way to her
heart and the tiny kisses she bestows on my
fevered brow and god knows I am grateful for
the chance to love one last time on this earth
when most never even love the first time.
Passion beauty and the memories of each day
are interwoven in each of her spells as they fall
from her lips in ways that only I can see and catch
in my outstretched hands and sometimes I can
hold onto them long enough
only just long enough to place on the narrow ledge
running along the edge of despair and trust but
no one will ever see it no one can ever discover
the secret places I put the pieces of her inside me
because
my shrine is black.
