My Scarlet Remains

December 30, 2020

And through it all, seasons famished or full, my dear Scarlet, you remain.
Sprightly and apparent
always your heart cut and pushed forward.
From window view, it hung bent below your left breast
just right of your thoughts.
Like sweetened licorice its flavor speaks unspoilt,
like restorative puree with a belly warming taste;
You exist to remind me to hemorrhage openly, never to waste.

Your skin, bright as blossomed truth and soaked in the
hue of amorous wine.
You fly amongst a quartet of colors
while clearing a contemplative space for creation to take place.

Playful yet quaint,
Isolated through gossamer clouds, Scarlet sips most from the moment,
As near to the sun past flesh permits.
I watch you and want to drinking from the vein of your thoughts.

Born from dribbled embers
You pull from the blood of the earth
You drink romanced tears while cloaked in heat;
Time, you do not twaddle with as though deaths door is nigh.
In you Scarlet, there are no remains, only, everything
and nothing is left unturned to ask why.

Through Scarlet birds I am reminded of all that is life;
electric love wailing about in windy theatrics,
perpetually pouring itself into inhaling ventricles,
dying for the filling.

By: Magnolia Lafleur

THINE EYES!

October 14, 2020

Compressed black and swallowed, it lays buried inside a canvas of melted, foolish lines.

Busted color leaked into solidarity on an open pupil.

Trapped inside a fluxing current smudged with bereavement and the blissful madness in-bedded from

the gluttony of au courant moments, moments true and peeled,

moments rotted and soiled in the profoundness bathing inside the ticking unanimity of ones own mind; visible existence.

And oh the things it bares witness to;

Transportive passions spun into the playful minds of eager architects.

Mid-summer sky’s, boiling, smiling, scolding the skin.

How it exchanges the dreams planked inside the weary tear ducts of tepid cooling clouds.

And blackness, born from a speechless space, an alchemistic abyss;  one third of our lives.

What paradise finds home inside these jello eyes?

For it is they that wrote this, not I.

Eyes of white,

Eyes of gold,

Courted and neatly trimmed by the thoughts of Michael Angelo.

These glinting, darting, dancing eyes,

Why they have no option but to nebulously sink, in occasion, behind the squint of suspicious lids.

Safeguarded at all times.

But while they remain veiled beneath weakened lids,

They remain open,

fixated inside the belly of a crepuscular night;

 They do not sleep.

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Invisible Maestro

October 8, 2020

It pecked upon the twigs sloshed inside a pond of warm blooded mud just between a briars patch.

Through the rose window and beyond the rumpled Victorian curtain, my eyes were fixed;

Upon this bird, adorned in a black feather coat and emerald eyes, was calm tranquility, as it slowly tugged, no, merely kissed the twig, in hopes of resurrecting  it from the dampness of yesterday’s rain.

And nearby a tree guarded this Rusty Blackbird from rays of light and the wind, from slight of sound.

Transfixed I was in the facile movement of nature, symphonically conducted by an invisible maestro.

Finally, after minutes of bearing witness to this dance, I saw the mud birth not one, but a string of twigs bound to each other, like the pearls upon my mother’s neck.

Delighted, or seemingly so, the blackbird dragged, collected and flew away;

And as I stood, weighted in a lachrymose farewell, a preponderance of thoughts pecked at the pool of mud gathered in a frozen place inside my heart.

Only, where was my maestro and does he know my name?

So I sat and took to ink and paper my plight.

And while heavy in eyes, I wrote this, blotted in the vanity of self-pity and below the breast, where forlorn feelings often linger without a tree to shade or wind to silence;

In hopes that I too, will be like the Rusty Blackbird, drenched in pined watchfulness from a distant window, with a pile of twigs at my leisure, in perfect time, as I too, will  collect and fly away, leaving it all behind.

Men of Great Stature

September 27, 2020

Paintings & poem By: MAGNOLIA LAFLEUR


Where are these men of great stature?

Whose voices disrupt built tension.
Lilac Lips soft with bones of timber that bring the heart to ascension.

Oh wonderous creature, muscled flesh and breathing hair, like blowing grass set a fire by a desperate prayer.

In the day, his logic & legs planked, firm like cedar, a focused dance with one direction,
but at night, billowing from the belly of his heart,
he folds into my arms where we lay with no part, mere perfection.

Honorable, his tounge forged with the stone from the tablet of Moses.
His eyes, ignited glass.
The color: pointed asphalt with a surrounding earth filament of tungsten wire
capturing not just face, but heart and mine own desires;

My lids, they close.
I am his,
of this he knows.

Your gentle hands, the craftmanship
Carved to hold me with one tight grip.

Rib torn for me, mine ears split for thee, summoned love born in the fashion of caterpillars floating from drunkard jars, colored wings detailed in the memories of future days of ours.

Cavernous, captivating and capsizing; You- These were the words that spilt from my veins, unraveled my nerves from start, when first your flesh paid heed to my thirsting heart.

The beginning and end of me,
a happy birth, and even happier death I do foresee.

And such a handsome face, salted or water fresh,
as I lick your lips to swallow the tears built in joy or in your fears, to refresh.
And you to me? I recall you saying, I was your tonic, your jubilee.

So are you that man of stature?
Finally come home.
Asleep no more, caught inside my dream catcher?

Tis it not your decision to make?
To have the courage to stay awake.
“Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.”
To love, to kiss, please more.

What Crones Up Crows Drown

September 27, 2018

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And though his bones they have bled into oat, ash & dust, his stories, quite blahsensical, they shall ever never rust.

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Whilst parliamentary principles perabulated in his head, he laid upon his pillow, solving problematic proverbs in his bed.

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Swashbuckling tales wrapped in a small trim blue skirt as she holds a ‘drink me’ bottle beginning the flirt.

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Algebraic equations tunneling the mind, make it difficult for her to follow that big bunny’s behind.

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And since I am no neologist, dreaming in ratios and gold, I can understand what the Jabberwocky’s point was in being told.

Oh and ahhhh the joy in those frabjous words interlocking the tounge with the mind as it does.

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Confounding it all is.
This world’s upside down.

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You’ll find that man who claims to be of scripture filled with Mach·i·a·vel·li·an sound.

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And that human who won’t work, it’s only because it left its soul in the hurt;

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something those pecking birds feast upon in deserts.

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But fear thee not and believe in thy all,
for a Tureen of soup may cure the fall.

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And if ye shan’t believe in thy might, I suggest you take an absence from this thing you call sight.

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Go ahead, be brilliantly bold, as blind as a blissful old bat,
fill your belly with the stars till its round, fruitful and fat.

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Go on twaddle twinkle, trip towards your leave;
as it’s won’t be quite difficult in more than six impossible things to believe.

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-Magnolia

Acrylic on canvas ♡

( © 2018 Magnolia HL )

Undressed

January 13, 2014

 

By:Magnolia

beat

You’ve revealed me.

Broken flesh ripped from the bone, unfathomable like song seeping from a closed lip stone.

*

I felt the trail of your lips in deep slumber.

It bound then bled the breath out of me, like starving rose vines clenched around a brittle tree.

*

You occupy the space betwixt anguish and revelry

Crystalized, like a happy sea pearl, bathed recklessly; You move me.

*

Cremated in the ecstasy of risen dust, I am a composition made of sentimental leaves, the nights beating lights and dirt, fermented & churned to rust.

*
Molten your thoughts.

Like grapes swallowed in the belly of a hungry hand, pick, bite and swallow me whole ;

And if you abandon the complexities of pride

you will feel me with each mouthful.

*
Let the heft of your visible existence sink & die

And I will be the waves on your shore that rise, crash & cling to your every side.

*
Undressed & transparent, tunneled between softened ribs, is everything to you I give.

Stuck Outside the Dream

September 2, 2013

How does one determined the line between dream and reality?

 This tells the story of an old woman who has spent her time in sleep building a relationship with a man who is deemed, in our concept of reality, a dream. She contemplates whether his ability to prevail so tangibly in her existence is due to them having a love that stands the test of time, society’s notion of reality and reincarnation itself. These are the thoughts of a woman ” Stuck Outside the Dream.”

Faint as a memory, vivid as a dream,
That’s how I remember him.

His hands firm, ironed to fit the concaves of my weathered skin.
His love vivid, shaped to illuminate the shadows of my being.

He was a soft vision, only unlike any phantom I had ever seen,
For I had felt his touch.

His hair always smelt of plucked roses, a soap given to him on our 20th Anniversary.
His lips, provoked by the beat of my heart, were always filled with the vowels of kings.

But at times, when I’m awake, I can’t help but wonder, hath my senses played a trick on me?
Am I interwoven inside the womb of  my own insanity?

 In love inside two worlds, I, we, both were trapped.
A communion derailed by the coming of the sun and the yawning of the moon.

In my sleep and in his awake I am found.
My life with him permeates of promethean heat, of longings quenched, of  rapturous immortality.

The pleasure of his skin stacked upon my soul only deadens my being when I arise in the day.
For empty is my bed and I just a mere lump of clay.

Alone, it is intolerable, for one cannot function & absorb the torture of blocked possibility.
So I have chosen to live in sanity.
For what’s  a dreamer to do when trapped inside their awake, but to bridge the gap, rescue the dream from being lost, at stake.

The origins of this life that exists inside black lids, I know not of.
Perhaps a love, so benevolent, a man, a spirit  so prodigious, that no conceivable birth from nature, reincarnation itself, can interrupt.

Conquered, our breath hath focused its way through time.
Pillaging the process of winter, summer, spring and fall;
We decided upon inseparability through any means at all.

And now, his reality is my dream.
Expired are the days of wanting,
As he remains surrendered to me, I shall remain my feet off ground my heart in heavens, un-yielding to my awake.

Varnished we remain, I  clinging to him, like warm bark upon a shivered tree.
For is it not in our insanity that we are truly free?

....beautifuly accepted. -Mrs. Art

Bright Lights (1925)

Alone. S)

Love this <3

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Black and W.H.I.T.E. by shelley

Simple and elegantly SEXY! Black and W.H.I.T.E.

Melancholy …by Iliko Kandaveli. S)

Busby BerkeleyElephants. S)

Cotillion! #blackhistory #society

Your time is now !SilhouetteRenowned Chinese dancer, Yang Li Ping, taken during an actual performance in a theatre in Kunming, China.

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Frozen in high winds? That's some ice palace Photo by Thomas Zakowski

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Uninterrupted

August 30, 2013

By summers end, I kissed his lids beneath a tiered willow tree.

Sweeping in the wind, it’s lazy arms enlivened us with each touch.
And while I lay upon his beloved chest, his hand in mine we clutched.

 A perfect day.

Crickets swallowed silence with infectious songs, while
bees and crimson roses embosomed all night long.
Further, in the afternoon, like kings we partook;

Sliced oranges tangled in white lace, webbed buttered croissants, delicate and warm. And a medley, of green, purple, red
and yellow leaves, an ode to a summers passing.
Upon the suns genuflection we built our nest bellow twinkling eyes and in the graces of a smiling moon.
We were the makers of dreams and the bearers of empyrean possibilities; a love uninterrupted.

 

July 16.13′ 1:14am

Conception

August 27, 2013

( Story: Star-dust+ Egg+Sperm x Spirit= the Human Experience: ENds&JOYs)

It began as a long corridor, painted with nine moving figures, almost like, a welcoming party, only they were not bent on saying hello, rather, they were occupied, with focused intoxication in detailing my voids with purposeful movement.

As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.

It was pale, still and wafer-thin with time.  Upon greeting,  painlessly and with no hesitation, it peeled back it’s skin.

Buried inside the layers of wall was half of a room. The other half, well it was only to be reached by climbing up a ladder propped against a bright light.

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Whereupon I stood, my face met the celestial breath of night and the warmth of an eclipsing light.  Bewitched the darkness perambulated beneath my scintillated lids.

Galvanized, I stood feeling the inception of behemoth black while it drowned wanting lids with star dust and polished pebbles.

Fire and earth cavorted forming an allegory of love crashed into the soul of a blind guest. I had become rebellious star-dust born solely to answer to the call of my own crux.

Behold my first vision, spiraling stairs, cascading upwards into a place where mine eyes could not reach.

  Transfixed I was until directed to go forward.

As I climbed the stairs I felt myself, like a train barreling down an unknown tunnel, being thwarted past perceptibility and time.

As I reached the top I strangely felt bits of wet clay squelching between my toes.

It wasn’t until I was still, and caught and held one silent breath that I realized that in order to become whole I needed to dive in.

So I ran. With drunken madness, I traveled into the belly of a salivating creature; it eager to envelop me in its womb, and I eager to be  cloaked.

The very moment I was consumed, was the very moment I was released into the chasm of euphoric realization, and I did not hold back.

Unbeknownst to me, in that exact moment, I shared a pathway with an unknown figure, and he too had been thwarted, leaped and  consumed.

We met in rushing waters. Inseparable, from then forward, conjoined we sailed.

Within the time-span of nine heart beats we absorbed

storming clouds and riveted sunsets.

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We were synergistic in our combustion; together creating a polychromatic being.

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Through the bombastic force that at times shifts the earth, two beings, meshed as one, arose through a tiny fissure.

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This being was miraculous, perfection unfurled. It’s first steps although slow, defied all the laws of gravity; it was pure possibility wrapped in earth.

It’s eyes, a cloudy treasure chest, binding the secrets of its soul.

And it’s armor, ingeniously infused with electric circuits, charging for movements to come.

At first breath it unfolded, followed by a revolving stretch.

This being, spun by dream weavers, had inside its belly a cup of un-spilt passion, bequeathed  by star-dust and fastened by the undivided attention of a ready soul.

Sword drawn and consciousness ready, it smiled with its face pressed against the world. And with dreams in heart and painted reality at bay, it had only one thing  in reply to the challenges it was soon to face, “En garde.”

CONCEPTION

It began as a long corridor, painted with nine moving figures, almost like, a welcoming party, only they were not bent on saying hello, rather they were occupied, with focused intoxication, in detailing my voids with purposeful movement.
As I made my way down an expanding hall, a room found me.
It was pale, still and wafer-thin with time.  Upon greeting,  painlessly and with no hesitation, it peeled back it’s skin.
And inside the walls was half of a room. The other half, well it was only to be reached by climbing up a ladder propped against a bright light.
Whereupon I stood, my face met the celestial breath of night and the warmth of an eclipsing light.  Bewitched the darkness perambulated beneath my scintillated lids.
Galvanized, I stood feeling the inception of behemoth black while it drowned wanting lids with star dust and polished pebbles.
Fire and earth cavorted forming an allegory of love crashed into the soul of a blind guest. I had become rebellious stardust born solely to answer to the call of my own crux.
Behold my first vision, spiraling stairs, cascading upwards into a place where my eyes could not reach.
Transfixed I was until directed to go forward.
As I climbed the stairs I felt myself, like a train barreling down an unknown tunnel, being thwarted past perceptibility and time.
As I reached the top I strangely felt bits of wet clay squelching between my toes.
It wasn’t until I was still, and caught and held one silent breath that I realized that in order to become whole I needed to dive in.
So I ran. With drunken madness, I traveled into the belly of a salivating creature; it eager to envelop me in its womb, and I eager to be found.
The very moment I was consumed, was the very moment I was released into the chasm of euphoric realization, and I did not hold back.
Unbeknownst to me, in that exact moment, I shared a pathway with an unknown figure, and he too had been thwarted, leaped and  consumed.
We met in rushing waters. Inseparable, from then forward, conjoined we sailed.
Within the time-span of nine heart beats we absorbed
storming clouds and riveted sunsets.
We were synergistic in our combustion; together creating a polychromatic being.
Through the bombastic force that at times shifts the earth, two beings, meshed as one, arose through a tini fissure.
This being was miraculous, perfection unfurled. It’s first steps although slow, defied all the laws of gravity; it was pure possibility wrapped in earth.
It’s eyes, a cloudy treasure chest, binding the secrets of its soul.
And it’s armor, ingeniously infused with electric circuits, charging for movements to come.
At first breath it unfolded, followed by a revolving stretch.
This being, spun by dream weavers, had inside its belly a cup of un-spilt passion, bequeathed  by star dust and fastened by the undivided attention of a ready soul.
Sword drawn and consciousness ready, it smiled with its face pressed against the world. And with dreams in heart and painted reality at bay, it had only one thing  in reply to the challenges it was soon to face, ”En garde.”

Fools & Kings

August 19, 2013

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By: Magnolia

Their love was the cause of levitation and crying leaves.

Upon first sight, he beheld blue dust; speckled inside the iris of her reflective mirror,

They lingered, spellbound & bogart.

While gold and pink light, soft and incandescent, spied between the fissures of his fluttered heart.

Their interlocking dewy eyes, congealed in-time.

The musings of tomorrow and yesterday, evaporated outside the bloom of detangled vines.

And with the zest of a king and the heart of a fool;

Mouths unraveled so rapturously, that as they stood,

From form to dust and water to a paphian musk,

They became every form of life, rising and sinking, from dawn to dusk.

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They lingered, spellbound & bogart.

Their love was the cause of levitation and crying leaves

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c1d19 Brilliant Levitation Photography

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The musings of tomorrow and yesterday, evaporated outside the bloom of detangled vines.

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Upon first sight, he beheld blue dust; speckled inside the iris of her reflective mirror

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Their interlocking eyes, congealed in-time

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c1b17 Brilliant Levitation Photography

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From form to dust and water to a paphian musk

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And with the zest of a king and the heart of a fool

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While gold and pink light, soft and incandescent, spied between the fissures of his fluttered heart

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Mouths unraveled so rapturously, that as they stood

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They became every form of life, rising and sinking, from dawn to dusk.

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Not to Look but to See

July 31, 2013

Does the evening black blind thee from  transparent truths?

  Before I knew my wants

it ’twas you I desired.

 Strangers we are merely by flesh,

but thine heart, ’tis thine heart that I know best.

Why amongst a strobe of lights

’tis thine eyes that affect and excites.

And while thou covers thyeslf  in a sheath of  fears soaked in the anxieties of olden, crooked paths,

know that the more thine release, the less thou must combat.

Embraced ye shall bask in the merriment of an undiscovered place.

 So I say to thee in this breath, as though it were mine last, that infinitely I shall bend towards you,

for thou art my sun!

So if ye shall not rise with me,
then let there be no dawn.

First Art work by the brilliant Sergio Albiac:

Unreleased thoughts experimental

Sergio Albiac:- Dotted bust of a young woman – On a sculpture of Josep Reynés (1850 – 1926)

Second Art work by the brilliant Sergio Albiac:Generative and procedural digital image

Song from Arcadia:

“My True Love Hath My Heart”

BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY

My true-love hath my heart and I have his,

By just exchange one for the other given:

I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;

There never was a bargain better driven.

His heart in me keeps me and him in one;

My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:

He loves my heart, for once it was his own;

I cherish his because in me it bides.

His heart his wound received from my sight;

My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;

For as from me on him his hurt did light,

So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart:

Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,

My true love hath my heart and I have his.

   

Be Happy!!!

July 7, 2013


2 THINGS: If it makes you happy, do it. If it doesn’t, then don’t.

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Shut Eyes Kept Breath

July 5, 2013

That’s where she existed best.

In the dark, in the light, high upon the rafters,

Perched above the clamor of civilization.

Where fog embraces light in the form of bulbous clouds.

Where the pangs of sorrow are dulled by the atmospheric civility that only floating can offer.

Where tears find home in rain,

Calmness in the breath of nothing,

and stillness in the charm of fluttered roses.

And just the mere possibility of all this, that desire to break free from skin,

It cruised beneath her heart and pushed against limp veins.

Like leather tightly wound against screaming bones,

She felt the itch of wanting to escape;

To melt past rattling walls and bursting bubbles.

But only with shut eyes and kept breath could she find the courage to leap.

And spinning in the solitary moment of her first step was truth flashing upon somber lids.

It was in the rain,

It was in the wind,

It was in the beat of the sun

and in every crater of the moon.

She was interwoven in the bliss of this deserted place.

Every night bathing in the light of the stars

And every morning dancing with a flock of wings.

In her despair she had surrendered to the dream and found triumph in the crux of her soul.

Pirouetted in the divinity of absolute mirth, alas she was home.

What Is Bliss?

May 28, 2013

But to have ones heart saturated with all the best ingredients.

Chocolate powder, swirled into crystal cubed, brown sugar bumps.

Mixed with chilled white milk and

Stirred inside endless clarity;

Only to be baked into a soft edible fever.

Coated with crying, frothed cream,

just happy to be apart of something.

Half-done, half- raw, half-baked, all-together.

Dreaming of filling in the space  of unsealed lips.

If for nothing else, isn’t this why we exist?

 

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Facing Up

April 24, 2013

Punch-drunk in a persuasive sea

I am caught in a bottle bound for beleaguered shores.
And around me dizzy trees and mountains roar.

Clouds shock themselves into tears

While I stare, facing up, thinking of you my dear

 

Tip-toeing inside the black, you gently waltz across evening shadows
And suddenly whizzz across the sky like an eager arrow


And all the while inside this noisy night
Pondering is swallowed by the twinkling of lights.

Etched between the moon and stars
are the arches of your smile and your lips, the hue of Mars.

And while I want to crash inside your heavens dust,
You cannot hear me above the oceans rust.

And though the sky has not offered its hand

I sit watchful with each breath ready to compress then expand;

Until the dusk peels back its skin

And I am kissed by dawns begin.

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By Magnolia

Between the Gap

April 17, 2013

 

By Magnolia

 

It’s that small whisper in-between the fog

Wounds hushed by plush snow.

And woeful hearts melted through tepid strokes.

Light, right before the fade of dark.

An abandoned desert first touched by the print of man.

Or fire seduced by adjacent streams.

It’s that closing of the gap as I near you.

Can you feel it?

The swaying hairs reaching from my arm.

Can you see it?

My swollen iris, lids double fluttering.

Or can you hear the wings of butterflies

pounding against captured air.

Long, rolling, syllables,

thinly spread upon a bed of silence;

begging to fill the space where you begin and I end.

And why is that as far as I’m allowed to get,

beside the respite of breath billowing between our lips?

I want to subsist inside the gap.

The difference of the two?

  A slight of hand,

a slit between being alive and merely breathing.

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Her Speech

April 4, 2013

By: Magnolia

Her lethargic breath was rooted in the cave of a cumbersome heart.

Standing a foot the blank podium, tethered by opportunistic strings,

was the birth of a whisper

ascended into what became, a cataclysmic thought.

Like spiraling stairs with no beginning nor end, she spoke.

“Ejected from the gorge of emotional destitution,

I have realized that I have ascribed form to an existence that is but a shadow,

if not a dream.

And while I’ve remained fixed upon my daily deeds

I have abandoned my internal needs;

Misguiding shapes inside a living tomb.

I call upon the earth to fissure beneath my brain,

To thwart an arrow into the chasm of my heart,

and to pardon this lump of clay’s weary ways.

Soil and ice, no longer will you replace permutable fog.

For truth, a concept whose doors are not open for interpretation,

alas,  has made the journey through pore and rushing blood and found its home

upon electrical wires  breathing life into a paralyzed heart.

I say, empty handed and fragmented from a self-induced illusion,

that, that which is, is not a at all, and that which is to be, is to exists inside of me.

Compelled to create prickled shapes that would garner me the world, while gazing upon a blank wall, all at the expense of my heart beat.

Fair exchange it was not.

For I have spent most of my clock devouring the irrelevant, in hopes of quenching a parched soul,

and merely numbing it in the process.

But now with exhumed vision and  frail valves,

I have but one thing I want to do, and nothing else.

With the elegance of life’s exoskeleton bewildering my eyes,

And with the seed of creation rousing a previously unemployed  heart

Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

 

I can’t help but think storms are beautiful.

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“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.”

Plato

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love, every man becomes a poet.”

Plato

“According to Plato, we don’t learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers and education can only remind us of what we already know.”

Misty – Diary by Chuck Palahniuk

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Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

I caught a cab from 1st and everywhere,

drove around the city, head out the window, wind in my hair.

I was looking for you.

Lips pouting, ready rouge and black sheer.

*

How many ways do I need to tell you,

or better yet no,

 I’ll show you.

*

You’ve awoken the lioness.

I was sleeping,

panting heavy,

slow and rolling;

ready to be awake.

*

And then,

I was upside down.

Feeling the red leak, one drip drop to the tip of my brain

pushing against eyes, as I smiled and pretended to be sane.

*

It’s like being shot in the heart and loving, no needing the taste.

It’s walking alone in the dark while twisting and winding your waist.

And all I see,

are visions,

of you.

*

How about,

I’ll show you,

I’ll tell you,

no matter how.

*

I’ll show you,

I’ll tell you,

right now.

*

I bought a pair of silk stalkings

hoping they would speak to you;

They were black lace, see-through.

I slid them up my leg and well,

the rest was in my head.

I took the candles to bed and let the wax tilt and play

and my skin, well, it was red and warm the next day.

*

In all my millenniums, if there’s any time to look into my eyes

it’s right now.

No coy, only candid.

Can you see yourself in them?

 Splendid.

A sculptor slaving over swallow happy skin.

And me, holding all my giggles in the corners of my grin.

*

And note,

that this omission,

is  for you,

and only you.

*

I only want to open my arms to

the one who can truly grasp

 the point,

to all,

of this.

But do tell me,

do you wonder how I kiss?

*

I’m constantly pouring myself over roses,

redefining the color of steam,

hoping to be unmasked, and then finally,

seen.

*

See I was porcelain,

stuck in one position;

until your hands,

They thawed me out.

*

I’m like a bee playing with a cat

“here kitty kitty,

But don’t by fooled by size, my bite sings,

deeply deeply.

*

And while looking for you,

you better find me soon.

Because frankly,

my darling,

life is quite boring without the bloom.

*

See, you’re like honey clinging to it’s bottle

lecherous, halting and light.

But one day, suddenly

you’ll be weighted with the desire to reach the tongue,

with all your might.

And well,

I might yawn

and even possibly,

be

long

gone.

*

Although I must say,

weighted in me, is so much of you.

*

Besides, who will help me put my pearls on

and slip on my black nylons.

*

Oh, and if you’re wondering.

I taste like

rain,

vapor

and rose pedals.

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Photo: Katja

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Photo: Calvin♥

Photo: Calvin♥

Photo: Calvin♥

atong

Photo: Calvin♥

Photo: Katja

I only want to open my arms to

the one who can truly grasp

 the point,

to all,

of this.

But do tell me,

do you wonder,how I kiss?

To You, My Heart

March 24, 2013

I have come to great resolve

and must attest,

bare chested and with the wealth of every beat,

that had I but one last breath,

it would belong to you.

*

Spacious valves

dazzled skin

and captured soul,

Orchestrated by the abounding measures of an enchanted organ.

*

 Awash in the corners of each chamber

are your prints, apparent and benign.

*

Alive inside mellifluous veins

streams the rapture of a discovered being.

*

But my castle of bones, how quickly they do relent.

Not withstanding, my crux remains,

past soil, bloom, and flight

an immeasurable part of you.

*

Opulent warmth

fermented dreams

& imbued crimson

Splashed inside an infinitely swelling fortress.

*

In the simplest of terms,

You are therefore I beat.

The Sixth Element

March 3, 2013

By: Magnolia

I sat in silence, squeezing at the first fruit I saw in sight.

And as I crushed it,

Bruised, its tears bled between the angst collected in the gut of my palm,

And It absorbed my pain.

I wanted it all to cease

Clocks

Work

Things

And every element known to man, in which I supposed I could survive without.

Starved my body would wilt, but with you, my Sixth Element,

Through you my being is infinite

My divinity and happiness

Defined by the mere possibility of being cradled inside the womb of your arms

For together, we are a monochromatic combustion of harmony.

 *

But I lament,

For I have the feeling, that you are far away;

Your spirit near but your body,

It’s far away.

And as I watch the world roll by,

And fill my mind with ideas, materials and longing,

They all rot away;

Insignificant without you.

*

The sea, earth, sky, fire, wind, and you, my Sixth Element.

The crucial crux to my existence

You are my thoughts final burial place.

For no matter how busy this sphere gets

And I busy in it, will there ever be

A substitution for this feeling

Created and filled,

In what would normally take a thousand lifetimes,

By the life captured inside the streams of your rising chest

 *

Your breath is my sixth element,

The released & genuflecting wave,

The tectonic shift,

The fearlessness at the edge of a cliff.

The exquisite point to which all else rotates.

And your skin, a road-map leading to the tip of your lips;

The place where all longing is quenched,

And where silence is arced into shapes only seen by me.

 *

 You have shifted the melody of the sun and moon

With my nights being consumed with closed eyed images of you

A kaleidoscope of possibilities trapped inside of me.

With my eyes, never asleep for you.

And my days locked in the knowing

That no matter what I do or how much I grab,

You are the only thing, that I must, I have to have.

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The List

February 3, 2013

A silly story about a girl, her fixation, a guy and her list.

Flipping through programming trying to erase you from my channel,

There I was, second day straight, hypnotized while living in my flannel.

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With the same feelings of  a 13-year-old, all giggly and dewy eyed.

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When he walked into that room, everything from gravity and life as I knew it, ceased to exist.

And I swear I saw two of him coexist.

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And my whole point of being, was summarized by the life in his luminous eyes.

All it took was one look, and I told myself, “Don’t say anything unwise!”

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I was fixated, forever haunted and entranced by, wait did he bite his lip?

Soft, beckoning and in slow motion, ok he didn’t, get a grip.

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My veins and all body mechanics became employed by my imagination, he had me, jaw dropped & twinkled eyes;

he was the tune, on a permanent rotation.

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Tomorrow was going to be Monday, he’d give me wink and walk by my desk,

And I, I’d pretend I didn’t care, I’d stand there, non-nonchalant and statuesque

Sudden obsession birthed from a childhood spent in boy defiance and aggression,

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Became unmanageable, un-treatable and after two-weeks, no longer could I repress him.

And in reality, his utter lack of attention to me?

Well, it drove me crazy!

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I devised a plan, which consisted of,

do everything and anything you can to get this man!

So here’s my list to secure this mans undying kiss:

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Night before: Practice cat walk and pouting

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And rehears to say something funny and astounding.

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Post notes all over the house, for support

Try on everything in your closet nothing too long, nothing too short!

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Nothing good enough in closet

I must design something, sexy, no, Audrey Hepburn like not hobbit.

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Read,

face mask,

meditation

and when I wake up in the morning,

He will exist more than in my imagination.

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.

Went to sleep and dreamt of him in my bed,

And when I woke up I realized it was all in my head

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Early morning, while brushing teeth, practice the perfect smile.

“Confidence, class, sophistication, it’s not an act, it’s a lifestyle.”

Now, apply red, no pink, no purple, green and glitter!

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Wait isn’t red, the color of someone sexy and clever?!

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dd

Now for something comfortable and not too dramatic.

I hope this little black dress is quiet enough but causes him to panic.

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And will top it off with a sweater with just a small subtle sign;

Little does he know, I spent all night cutting this design.

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No more list, I’m out the door, like a battalion walking tall and suave, on a mission for amor.

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There he is, buttoning his coat,

try to act natural, bury your head in your book and don’t dote!

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Oh my god! He called my name,

Collect yourself!  Now act mysterious and tame.

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“How was your weekend?” he asked.

And like a kid in a candy store I was dumbfounded stuck in trance.

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“Well, ya know, weekends are, so weekend like, ya know.”

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What did I just say, it didn’t make any sense,

and as soon as I tried to get my thoughts together,

my brother grabbed my cheeks and made me look so dense.

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Thinking it was my boyfriend, that’s why he walked away!

And I’m here left alone, with nothing clever to say.

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Ok, must regroup, emergency ‘cool chick’ cigarettes, plan b,

so he can get close and light it up for me.

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But I don’t smoke, so a huge plume of death got caught my throat.

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Bathroom emergency, second regroup, should have made him a chocolate cake, no that could give him a toothache.

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OK a shot of perfume and a little bit of  eye liner,

Must try to act a little daintier and exceptionally refiner.

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Now reapply some color and imagine its him helpful and dapper.

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Ok, act two, there he is,

stand next to him,

and read a book while pretending to be a genius a whiz.

above(image from amazing photographer Darren Roberts collection)

Now sit, and curl a strand of your hair.

Do anything to make him aware.

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Tease and eat with moving lips, but not enough to go to the hips.

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He’s not paying attention!

It’s like I don’t exist,

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Maybe I should just jump his bones and attach my face to his!

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I know!  I’ll blow a bubble,

 he’s the least of my troubles.

Splash, the plan backed up on me,

my face is ridiculed with failed attempts, smudged & sticky!

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Now what I’ve done?! He’s gone and walked away,

And there’s a thousand voices inside of me pleading for him to stay!

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I had so much to say,

but nothing showed up,

I was not eloquent or brave;

only desperate and him, probably fed up.

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Oh well, so much for the day, my feelings & my heart I did not convey.

What’s so great about him anyways?

His smile,

His eyes,

His laugh,

The way he listens to me on my behalf?

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No, he’s just a man,

I don’t like him,

matter of fact, I’m putting him on a mental ban!

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And right when I was going to cry you wouldn’t believe what came before my eyes.

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Flowers in hand he gave to me while whispering in my ear that he wanted only me.

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We sat by the pond, he pulled me in close and pointed to me everywhere in his heart that I had enclosed.

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I just smiled from ear to ear,

For what would I do for love?  Well, what wouldn’t I dare.

Oh! And did I mentioned we kissed!

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_____________________________

THE LIST

Flipping through programming trying to erase you from my channel,

There I was, second day straight, hypnotized while living in my flannel.

With the same feelings of  a 13-year-old, all giggly and dewy eyed.

When he walked into that room, everything from gravity and life as I knew it, ceased to exist.

And I swear I saw two of him coexist.

And my whole point of being, was summarized by the life in his luminous eyes.

All it took was one look, and I told myself, “Don’t say anything unwise!”

I was fixated, forever haunted and entranced by, wait did he bite his lip?

Soft, beckoning and in slow motion, ok he didn’t, get a grip.

My veins and all body mechanics became employed by my imagination, he had me, jaw dropped & twinkled eyes;

he was the tune, on a permanent rotation.

Tomorrow was going to be Monday, he’d give me wink and walk by my desk,

And I, I’d pretend I didn’t care, I’d stand there, non-nonchalant and statuesque

Sudden obsession birthed from a childhood spent in boy defiance and aggression,

Became unmanageable, un-treatable and after two-weeks, no longer could I repress him.

And in reality, his utter lack of attention to me?

Well, it drove me crazy!

I devised a plan, which consisted of,

do everything and anything you can to get this man!

So here’s my list to secure this mans undying kiss:

Night before: Practice cat walk and pouting

And rehears to say something funny and astounding.

Post notes all over the house, for support

Try on everything in your closet nothing too long, nothing too short!

Nothing good enough in closet

I must design something, sexy, no, Audrey Hepburn like not hobbit.

Read,

face mask,

meditation

and when I wake up in the morning,

He will exist more than in my imagination.

Went to sleep and dreamt of him in my bed,

And when I woke up I realized it was all in my head

Early morning, while brushing teeth, practice the perfect smile.

“Confidence, class, sophistication, it’s not an act, it’s a lifestyle.”

Now, apply red, no pink, no purple, green and glitter!

Wait isn’t red, the color of someone sexy and clever?!

Now for something comfortable and not too dramatic.

I hope this little black dress is quiet enough but causes him to panic.

And will top it off with a sweater with just a small subtle sign;

Little does he know, I spent all night cutting this design.

No more list, I’m out the door, like a battalion walking tall and suave, on a mission for amor.

There he is, buttoning his coat,

try to act natural, bury your head in your book and don’t dote!

Oh my god! He called my name,

Collect yourself!  Now act mysterious and tame.

“How was your weekend?” he asked.

And like a kid in a candy store I was dumbfounded stuck in trance.

“Well, ya know, weekends are, so weekend like, ya know.”

What did I just say, it didn’t make any sense,

and as soon as I tried to get my thoughts together,

my brother grabbed my cheeks and made me look so dense.

Thinking it was my boyfriend, that’s why he walked away!

And I’m here left alone, with nothing clever to say.

Ok, must regroup, emergency ‘cool chick’ cigarettes, plan b,

so he can get close and light it up for me.

But I don’t smoke, so a huge plume of death got caught my throat.

Bathroom emergency, second regroup, should have made him a chocolate cake, no that could give him a toothache.

OK a shot of perfume and a little bit of  eye liner,

Must try to act a little daintier and exceptionally refiner.

Now reapply some color and imagine its him helpful and dapper.

Ok, act two, there he is,

stand next to him,

and read a book while pretending to be a genius a whiz.

Now sit, and curl a strand of your hair.

Do anything to make him aware.

Tease and eat with moving lips, but not enough to go to the hips.

He’s not paying attention!

It’s like I don’t exist,

Maybe I should just jump his bones and attach my face to his!

I know!  I’ll blow a bubble,

 he’s the least of my troubles.

Splash, the plan backed up on me,

my face is ridiculed with failed attempts, smudged & sticky!

Now what I’ve done?! He’s gone and walked away,

And there’s a thousand voices inside of me pleading for him to stay!

I had so much to say,

but nothing showed up,

I was not eloquent or brave;

only desperate and him, probably fed up.

Oh well, so much for the day, my feelings & my heart I did not convey.

What’s so great about him anyways?

His smile,

His eyes,

His laugh,

The way he listens to me on my behalf?

No, he’s just a man,

I don’t like him,

matter of fact, I’m putting him on a mental ban!

And right when I was going to cry you wouldn’t believe what came before my eyes.

Flowers in hand he gave to me while whispering in my ear that he wanted only me.

We sat by the pond, he pulled me in close and pointed to me everywhere in his heart that I had enclosed.

I just smiled from ear to ear,

For what would I do for love?  Well, what wouldn’t I dare.

OH and did I mentioned, we kissed!