Love in the Jaded Palace

Each season that passes brings its own holidays to the fore,

Trotting their own memories down a corridor of chipped green,

Same ol’ laughter and tears, song and dance, heartbreak and happiness,

Sunshine on golden locks, leaves tangled in brunette, snow melting on ginger.

Masked Woman

Green marionettes fill the halls, cook the fare, prattle and preach their scripts,

As I rove amongst Fate’s design, monotonous melancholy meanders through mind,

Until a flash of multi-colored flesh sets a novel upon a lime table,

And intrigue cracks conformity, drawn like a moth to lethal flame.

 

Twisting through puppet-populace, he is lost amid fickle fangless fears,

And the book fills my thoughts with queries of right and wrong,

Sinking the intellectual dagger deeper through grey matter,

As monochrome fog dissipates in pursuit of the tattooed man.

 

Destiny’s emerald maze consumes, wrapped up in daily as seasons careen,

Lips begging for kissing as other pleasures are harvested and shunned,

A tiny thread connects the cynical cygnets, looped through a maze,

Poisonous hedge, barbed defense, sarcastic and guarded conversation.

 

Haunting melodic strains emanate forth from shiny black baby grand,

The two fleshy figures react to each chord, fingers twitch to each note,

In a ballroom of verdant stone, sassy reverberations shudder spinal threads,

Crying notes of unease, aloofness, loneliness, sensuality, and morbid fascination.

 

Green onlookers bewildered as elbows and knees mind clumsy choreography,

Swaying through the symphony, tempo slows tender feet placed ever closer,

Racing heart pumps scarlet to trembling hands, gasping breath inhales

Heady concoction of masculine musk, feline grace, animalistic arousal.

 

First caress along hips brings shivers, soft notes intertwined,

Aching heart throbs with powerful secrets bestowed, fingers trace pulsing jugular,

As the figures tentatively join, holding defenses and hearts high,

Sigh of black roses prick bare skin as head is surrendered to shoulder.

Images may be subject to copyright.

Images may be subject to copyright.

Emerald walls trill with sunshine and doubting hope,

Memory is shoved to the vault, a new page is turned in life’s novel,

Strumming my pain with each key stroked, killing me softly with each feisty rejoinder,

And the screams subside for a moonlit night of a heartbound worry.

Twilight Love

In the dark of the night

your soul glows like an ember

Be still, my child, dawn is coming

 

A small flame ignites,

creating a halo of warm love

in the embrace of mysterious twilight

 

Drift on a cloud of dreams

Let the them cradle you, as I do

Shush now, my child, Mama’s here

 

Let Sleep take you into a miraculous land

Opening your mind to impossible realities

as I watch you smile and close your eyes

 

 

7/07

A Mama’s Path

Seasons come, and seasons go, a revolving door of picture frames:

 

Dappled sunlight illuminates the inner glow of a child’s smile,

Towers of flame reflect a teenager’s heartache and clenched fists,

Sparkling snowflakes kiss the tumultuous skin, seeking celestial guidance,

Burgeoning bulbs breach newly packed earth of a soul’s resting place.

 

Within these seasons is contained life’s shared joys and sorrows,

All beings have seasons of bright sunlight and snow-clad winter rays,

Children will cry, giggle, and think no sweets is the end of the world,

But through thick and thin, they will seek mama’s comforting arms and soft words.

 

From the moment of conception, a reservoir of strength is conjured in one’s breast,

For sleepless nights and dirty diapers, colossal messes and seemingly endless tears,

A quiet patience and calm humor is developed and nurtured

For bug-hunting and reckless abandon, snips and snails and puppy dog tails.

 

Upon this path to guide your newborn, eyes shining bright with innocence and trust,

A realm of refreshing discoveries and ingenuous laughter surrounds,

Rose-colored glasses perch upon your nose again, rejoicing at each smile and step:

You are enveloped in the age-old cycle of life and rebirth. Enjoy, Mama.

Comfortable Disease

Shaking hands, clenched teeth, eyes wide shut,
Her small heart is breaking with the finality of a terminal disease,
Lingering with intensity, growing sickly while clinging to comfort,
Shuddering breath hissed in, and a salty tear brings fire to open wounds.

Silent screams, discombobulated to the point of incoherency,
Her thoughts meander through paths of broken love,
Discontent, she sashays through barren trees and puppet shows,
Discord igniting a smoldering cancer within Eden’s walls.

A melancholy melody flutters her eardrums, disquieting her sickbed,
Her life of complacency, contentment, and gentle, white lies,
Strumming her pain, elucidating the dissonance within her heart,
And she gasps for aria, reaches for her vices, runs to her padded room.

Contemplation brings realization, rose-colored glasses tossed away,
Disharmonious passions tear her heart asunder, falsity brings decay
To the once-alleviating place of zen, physical signs not to be ignored
In a time of hard decisions and self-induced and selfish woe.

She radiates her love intertwined with sorrow in a weave of complexity,
Cerulean and cobalt flow outward from her breast in pointed loops,
Unfettered, her aura caresses her unconscious teardrops as her
Blood-red, dripping hands clutching this dagger fall limp.