Reconstruction

I wish you well

I wish you right

I spell your name

Upon my mirror’s fog this night

Fatigue is but a severance

Cutting short the light inside

Shaking, trembling, fading quick

Not sure of the words that crash you down,

Not aware of what it was that worked you up

Topographic

Buildings grow

Gut the earth

Kill the dirt

Transplant the soil

Converting the natural

To cold concrete and steel erect

Didn’t we learn, not to try and touch the sun?

Was the message blurry, was the eyes fogged up, could you not assemble the warning that the myth constructs?

Alas,

Daedalus,

Here we come

again

The Burden of an Oracle

listen to ‘The Burden of The Oracle (Part I)’ on Audioboo

listen to ‘The Burden of The Oracle (Part II)’ on Audioboo

The forecast’s often are birthed in unwanted severity—

The pictures that forever play upon the never-ending reel within my mind are images no man should ever bear—it is a depicted reality that you truly believe could not play out any worse

And yet it does open the door for future suffering—the exciting looks upon those who dare me cast deep into their pools, to fish out hope in a sea of undeserving possibility—only to watch all sentiment of reason for being to deflate instantaneously to my very words—somehow ousts the depravity of the vision’s themselves

I’m truly sorry, I really am

perhaps I could lie; perhaps such untruths would be both merciful and generous—I suppose packaging the ugly realities with pretty bows and exaggerations, could do a service—

Seeing the future churns the stomach weaker, as each image

takes you into another’s soul—where forced you are, to watch, to understand, how an individual’s fate unfolds—you are left then, being only able to report the consequence and never able to change

the facet’s or the facts. I am powerless in all regards, yet, to some,

I’m lauded as if I’m some type of God—

Mankind so very wishes to understand each premonition that hovers deftly above their vessel, but what they do not care to understand, is the utter strain it is bearing witness to such horrible events, which, I must, in most instances, unfortunately report as one would the evening news—where death and devastation are all too common the thematic realities, future’s seen, that I wish I’d never dream

Yet, there then are those extremely rare and special cases, the kinds that are covered in lilies and rainbows, who’s wonderfully formed innocence, prance around a garden of delight, entirely open and receptive to all the flavors purity offers—and I see them waving their hellos with the happiest of smiles and even when the end is what the vision’s suggest, there is not regret painted upon such sights, there are no wrenching moments of tormenting scowls to cause streaming floods of agonizing reality—there are but calm and peaceful moments of acceptance, of those souls fully prepared to take their invitation to join the feast the maker’s justly presented in their honor—it’s these scenes, these scents of purity cast from within the painted lights, that rekindled what potential I’d seemingly mistaken for penance, igniting within me, a reason to believe once more, an understanding of why I see

It is from a desire not to know, for I know, above any other, how dangerous such learning can offer those unprepared to understand—it takes a rare breed to take acceptance by her hand and walk peacefully, without regret ever shading the pathway, into a bathing light so in-tune and aligned with destiny, a destiny where you must simply believe in your guide as being your ultimate defense, your safe-keeper in whatever might come next—you must give yourself over to her completely, allow faith to outrank any sense your mortal life had previously instructed you to grasp

It is, partially out of fear, partially out of a commitment to let events play out their natural course, to believe fully that destiny is not as predetermined as my life’s work would otherwise dictate and suggest…and of course, there are many more reasons for such an opinion, reasons beyond the scope of oneself—it is in part, for such reasons and more, that I have removed all mirrors and other like-minded reflective devices from my immediacy, for to know ones fate is unnatural, to see into one’s very own eyes and peer deeply upon the soul is a vision I fret to know, a sight I care never to see, until, of course, the finality has thrust it’s sword firmly within me…to which I can only pray to have the strength of being, to extend my hand, with every ounce of determination that remains available to me then and there, and accept what shall be, and leave this battlefield accepting that what’s been, and what shall be, as a choice I’ve played a role in relating, one that can truly offer more than any premonition could ever explain away

 Head on over to D'Verse for Open Link Night and accept the fact that there's some truly amazing poets at play, who offer themselves completely in their poetry, which they've so generously shared for everyone's benefit.  Enjoy all the work that's been linked up and while you're there, link a poem of your own, for other's to enjoy.  Cheers...

A Song for a Valkyrie

listen to ‘Valkyrie’ on Audioboo

You'll notice that the recording only covers a portion of the song, as it appears here. The reason for this is the program I use to record, has a 3 minute recording limit, and instead of recording this song/poem in two parts, I simply choice to omit many of the similar sounding choruses from the recording here, as I feel the pacing, tempo and rhythm are illustrated clearly in the instances I did record, which you can easily apply to the unrecorded portions, as you read along.

As A young man I made

Many a dire plan

To find an angel

Who’d take me from a life

I no longer wished to live

Racing, I made my way

To what, I deemed

a final resting place

It was here, where she first came to me

Grabbing hold my hand and arm, she

So easily disarmed the pain which grew inside

Granting me the comfort there, to see the truth behind the lies

In her embrace, within her grasp

I knew she would ne’er deceive

Even knowing this, I knew, her

caress could never last

And as her gaze began to shy apart from my own

she whispered what I most desperately had to know

Four words were then bestowed unto me

Four words, to forever alter, all I’d hear, all I’d ever see 

“ It’s not your time”

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

For years I’d think in dream

Of how she appeared to me

Simple it is, to recall, how I’d felt

Enrapt, aglow, her love, alive within this altered shell

This time though was long since past

And many suns and moons had elapsed

I’d grown old

And looking back

I now realized, that without her appearing then

None of this would ever be,

The lifetime of love we shared entwined

Gone, with all the rest my memories

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

But today I understand

No one can predict the fate of man,

No one knows how or why,

When it will first start

Or where it will find its end 

And that is why I die today

It’s my time; I accept, I must

there is no rhyme; there is no reason why

Let faith be strong; I must entrust

That one day she’d return for me

In a light that’s forever long

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

Fading quick

And there she stood

Still looking every bit the memory

She held me tight, easing concern

I knew what next must come to pass

This much, I knew I’d earned

Ay ay ay ay

Up high

The sky grows wide

Ay ay ay

Ay ay ay ay

On her wings

We would fly

Ay ay ay

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

On her wings

we shall fly

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

Way up high,

In the sky,

On Her wings,

We will fly

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

To Valhalla

We shall ride

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

Past the sky

We’ll soon fly

On wings

Of Val-chi-rye

Life begins again

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

On wings we ride

Up past the sky

To Valhalla’s gates

We’ll soon pass through

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

In valhall

I’ll soon be at home with you
 
Linked up to D'Verse for Open Link Night, where the mic's always live, and the joint's always packed, with poets each part this globe. Claudia is tending the bar tonight.  Be sure to stop on by, take in some great poetry and while you're there, perhaps inspiration will strike, and you'll share one of your own as well.

Moiety (Dark)

Erstwhile patrons of the disavowed
I'm sorry for the actions
these hands caused.
       are the final words my poor mother will ever hear me speak.

Shackled, in chains, paraded about the streets, naked and in shame…

       are the last sights my poor mother will have ever cast upon me…

INSIDE THE VOID….A REALM FOR THE WORST OF THE WORST
Current Population: 1

Darkness: My dearest nemesis, I know a part of you still feels what I
                feel, breathes the air I do, see the stars as they appear this
                side of the universe…you were not the one he Exiled, into
                this imbroglio of circumstance.  No, you are living the life
                that I should have been sharing, with you, side by side,
                ruling as brothers should…it was not my fault…but my words
                were never eloquent enough and as I had often suspected,
                even from the most incipient of days, you proved to
                me..there, on that final day, you never trusted me, not in
                the slightest..
             
                No…you are not here, in this place, where the texture is
                imbued with the hate and anger of knowing this is all there
                shall ever be…unjustly accused of that which I did not  
                conceive…YES, YES I DID SOME THINGS, some very bad
                things…but as for my charges…well…those things I most
                certainly did not do...

                and so I am here, in this void, securely imprisoned, with no
               hope of possible escape or vindication…no chance to prove my
               innocence…to see your face, father's too…when you hear the
               news…when you hear the truth…and I shall savor the
               apologies…I shall enjoy them very much…yet, accept them I
               shall…for despite this all…we are family…we still are kin…

               but, no, I am here, in this lonely, lonely land..where all I
               can see, is a muted and selective vision of reality…an ever
               existing imbrication…where my unhappiness and hostility
              "grace' me in haunting fashion, while the the "pleasures" of
               bearing witness to every comely vision they all see in you,
               overlaps me in dreadful patterns of regularity.

While I must ever brood, of possibility, of  for the day I see your faces again, and what these hands shall do then...

ENTER THE HARBINGER

H: Hey, sad sack…
D: Who else is here?
    For surely, you are not an imbecile
H: Nope, you got me
D: and sarcasm too... are you mocking me?
     as those in violation of such offenses, soon find
     just how ephemeral their lives can be
H: look, dude, I'm just passing through and I could give
     two plumes of a cuckoo about you, but I heard something
    you might find interesting….
D: What is this something that you speak of
H: Well, if you let me finish a thought, I'd tell you…
     I was over by the lake house, and saw your twin…
D: Not my twin, my moiety... we are one in the same, equals..
     separated that's all…He's my light, and I'm, well, I'm his
     penumbra, together we are one,united…a complete set…
     a panoply…yes, that is what father always called our unique
     gift….brother always would say it's what made us who we are…
     what made us special….me on the other hand….I saw it as the
     worst possible character flaw
H:  …anyhow, he said he'll be wed next week, on the fourth...
D: Wed, as in… marriage?
H: ...to Felicity, and that's when I
     remembered…
D: She is MINE…
H: you two were quite the item…I remember that love affair well...
D: It was not a mere dalliance, as you so crudely put it…it was much      
    more than that…it was everything...
    ...how has this come to be, tell me now...
H: Don't know, don't care…just thought you should know
D: And why…why would you come here to me…with this news...
     what motives do you conceal...in fact, how did you slip
     pass the brutes at the gates…
H: Hey, can't a guy throw another dude a bone, after all, seems like
     you could use one, being all by yourself and all…probably don't
     get many visitors...
D: Don't you pity me…not from a message boy…

Darkness rose from his throne of animosity, inured by this recent bestowal of information, bone sword firmly in hand, blood-tinged beads of sweat anointing his charcoaled skin….

H:  Dude, chill, don't work yourself…

Then, just there, Darkness thought of quite the clever ploy.  He was always an excellent miscreant, the epitome of what furtive schemers strived to become, ever the surreptitious child this one was…

D: No, you are correct, absolutely right…it matters not
H: Sounds like it mattered some…

With anger boiling beneath the flesh, Darkness was doing all he could to remain in this fragile state of composition…the slightest provocation could be his moment of undoing…the forbearance was gnawing fierce...

D: no, again, you are correct, of course she meant something…she still
  means something…but I am here, and I can not blame her for falling
  for him…after all, she most certainly sees me every time she looks at
  him, every touch, every embrace…

H: Ok, I get it, but I couldn't tell ya, as per the wings, not a shrink…

D: But…could you wait but a moment longer…I...
             Darkness quickly scurries into a room behind his throne

H: no prob…

Darkness returns, holding a talisman of ever-shifting shades of hue

D: Could you deliver this…heirloom…to my dearest brother…as a token
     of the joy I feel for this union to be….a pre-pre- wedding gift if you            
     would…
H: Now you're talking my language bro…delivering stuff, that's my
    thing…

Darkness hands the talisman to the winged courier…and off he went,
fluttering up and out from sight…

D: I pray my dear, dear brother accept this small gesture…

FADE TO LIGHT


The bold-print words were taken from Shawna's prompt at her weekly feature, Monday Melting.  Head on over there and see what others have  spun with the words supplied and join in while you're there, it's creativity at it's finest…

As for this tale…part two will appear over at my other site and continue there…it all just kind of came to me perusing the list of words Shawna provided, so I'm not sure how long this tale will wind up being, or what direction it will take…but should be fun to work through, and I'll continue to incorporate as many words as I can from this weeks list, there are 100 of them to choose from...

A Fairy Tale Rightfully Unpronounced

Head on over to D'Verse where the doors are open for Open Link Night. Check out some amazing poets and their poetry and while you're there, link up one of your own.

I.

There are some fairy tales purposely forgotten

Masked scabbard of the Interferon

Embark me now! Harken deep!

Pincers, heather-gray

residing, in the chaos

of the fay

The scope, the breadth—

freshest are the forceps of

wealth, so forcibly inhaled

Squeeze play…last to first

Squeezing…intensely

Rein in the misgiven logic

harness the bit displayed

bridle order, offer reprieve

To a day, unbeknownst, but veritably

In a somatic state of disarray—

        

II.

Covet the uniform less distinguished

than the dignity displayed so prominently upon the crest

One must love

before they hate

         One must hate

         before they can love

each,

alone,

flawed and frayed—

destitute and drowning-in

a parabola of valor

         affixed and spent

         dignified only

by the wash and wring

In-together

refined in the rough edges met/completely

blent/a merger into one—mixing free—to

a place once lost by me

III.

Music is built upon the foundation of every emotion we possess.  We should carefully consider what melodies possess us full.

No longer have we become isolated

no longer has the interlocutor lost his tongue

proscription, no longer in mask or shaded by

the fear of what is laced within belief—

                          

The opposition grows unbearable

we, haunt the fragments that cluster

in despair—in perilous decree—

then, will understand, will see….

all that is alive in the make-belief

world of inspiration found in song

IV.

There are some things we should never wish for or openly accept without dutiful consideration.

Go back forward

thirsting greater

whet for the knowledge never meant to sate—

hidden amidst the decorations are the words

and agility— of thousand-year-old invisible men

Where ginger henpecks snarl forth

and exaggerated bindings scoff retorts

Where scarlet footfalls shed flaked skin

to dais—ever raising until

gone by

to the sounds

of sepulchral tones

fade…

faded…

fading still…until

awake you grow

resurrected

from your bed—

 of pebbles, topping boulders of stone

V.

The bronzed veil of the squandered dove

attracts our prey and walls the dam

from cracks that call…

Erosion marks,

plated tint

fireflies….alive in glint

yet such a flash, bears the seeds—

That correlate the actions of fessing men—

directing us to the locations where

Attributions are all but lost—

where even the squalors flee

this pathetic excuse for symphony

Enter the hyperstatic repository

built upon the domino’s gradated sweetener

and force-fed mortar—by the shaking hands of tankards

alive, if only to cozen the salivation out from within…

pip to pip it effectively simulates a contagion effect

Burbling are the salivary dreams—

Of cuticles brittle, where bristling trumpets signify

the aloof designs for higher power

Impossibly vacant, yet acting out…

solely to manufacture a reason for

assembling….

A sacrificial toolkit, intent on discovering

the phantasms hovering, closely, near

Where candor has played second fiddle to cowardice…

Now. Vis-à-vis, brazen impudence stutters naught—

boldly affronting the dignity dishonored by such weakening

strife’s…

VI.

If vision is the object of your desire, then sight

shall presently appear…

But be forewarned

you may not won’t like

the images you are now to see!

The reavers are coming—

reapers and raiders, cannibalistic kin—

rising, continuously, from infernal abeyancy

The reavers are coming! The reavers are coming!

to purge both blessed and cursed,

to remind all and every

their scourge and bane

Ensconced abrasions quickly form,

from sentient pockmarks to boils forged

The reavers are here

to burn the bridges built up high

The reavers are coming  

Please pray and hide

Until the strong and proud live freely unafraid,

The results you see will remain the same

Until the worst in man can come out,

To produce the true fear buried deeply south

The reavers will come and seek man out

The ferel beasts will not relent

They’ll destroy without regret,

producing widows and widowers

along their seditious course

The youth are spared,

yet only so the scars can breathe

the foul memory

of their death to come

The reavers have never been defeated

never a casualty to claim

they come and crush

and rattle calm

they brutalize the damned

but bow naught their heads

for the countless innocent’s

they’ve also slain

VII. 

The Final Act is always the most disappointing

Eradication begins….

         when we wedlock our sins

Masked scabbard of the interferon

save me now…

         for I’ve lived a thousand years

                  and, as one might surmise,

                           the years have not been kind.

         I’ve never had to beg

                  so please do not make me now

Bear me my golden veil

         for without,

I fear

this reign

will be short-lived

A Conspiracy of Crows

There’s a conspiracy growing amongst the crows

One’s cause seems to drown in sorrow

While another’s destined to fall the sky

There’s too much suffering in the lips

Quivering for the touch, that only a key can give

Yet failed attempts have broken clean,

Leaving but fragments

Unworthy of the purse

There’re shackles and chains

The kind that bind

Limbs down

To circulatory death

There’s a conspiracy growing amongst the crows

Yet, is the cause still myth, if truth it tells?

I’ve always wondered, why some birds climb steps,

When all they had to do is fly 

This piece is another one of those pieces where I took some leftover lines I had scribbled down and put them together.  A bit choppy yet I think the metaphor continues through.  I was actually shocked I had two scraps about crows, (psst..the second one I changed the first part of the sentence to fit this piece though, originally it read circling do the crows)  Anyhow, just an explanation, of sorts