Undressed

January 13, 2014

 

By:Magnolia

beat

You’ve reveled 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.

First Said Last Words

December 14, 2013

By:  Magnolia L.

Foreign eyes, thou art my fere companion.

I prithee, only one thing,

That thou not wait for thy slumber of permanence to embrace me.

Rather, drown me now in the hours before the final escape of breath in thy rich pleasantries;

Bountiful in its tangibility.

Merely allow a plume of deep considerate breath to slowly emanate from thy soft lips.

Side-winding, thine words shall trickle down mine sleeping ears and find home in the midst of my silent storm.

And then take mine hand, unraveling curled fingers, ever so softly, one by one;

And with adoring tenderness place upon mine palm thy pearls of possibility.

A glimpse of what’s to blossom.

For what am I, but buried hope, pushing inside a sculpture that breaths;

With eyes that are free, and lids that are shut.

Captivated in the promises of grand rapture stirring inside mine gut.

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= the Human Experience: ENJoy)

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.

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.

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 tiny 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.”

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.”

Enigmatic In Its Ways

August 6, 2013

Post-feeling and pre-thought these words arose

Exalted and fastened into possibilities untold

Hope carves itself into polished dreams

As life tip-toes on a glassy balance beam

This destination beats in the rhythm of filling in the spaces of a journey, screaming in nature and roaring at heart

Bleeding immortal purpose, defined as abstract art

And while I stand plied in position and seeping of visceral avidity

I know not when my mind will grow beyond the gentle winds and sand-castles of my yesterdays

As I cower at the tall buildings fortitude to mute the suns illuminating rays

And my ability to defeat them, today

And as the sun rises I have yet to reconcile the weight of tomorrows set in motion by the dead

So taciturn in my dealings and concealed in my being I am fastidious in my head

Awaiting what, who, chance and luck

To feel the embrace of being freed, lightning struck

Enigmatic in its ways, this cog is smeared in beauty and  durable ways

Nov.23.12′ 1:23

By: Magnolia Lafleur

The Rarefied & Colorful

August 4, 2013

 

Albeit barely born, by the time he hit one, he had already seen and created the world.

And while letters had not made sail into his unfurnished mind or wrangled between the columns inside his vacant mouth, his heart spilt of stories in far away lands, undiscovered pastures, roaring seas and of a friend in whom no journey was improbable.

It was upon the back of a pictoric baby elephant, the young boy would fall asleep.

Bobbing inside of sequestered thoughts, his head lay warmed by the sloppy and playful movements of the babes frank and floppy ear.
The sun pressed heavy against his lids, securing a passageway for careless dreams.
Smirking in the golden light, with eyes shut, the boy saw the earth extended and rising; the very form of natures ample bosom evaporating into the mirth that exists inside of a formless habitat.

Illusive was the rushing wind sliding betwixt the window seals of journeying butterflies dipped in ink.
Surrounded they were by birds thrashing about in a performance with grand sonority aimed at pleasing a slumbering prince.

Connected to his dear friend, his hands became prismatically interwoven, holding the very same print.

Sprinkles of mustard dust swirled with black night, flushed into scarlet curves that drowned inside the reflective skin of emerald leaves.

They were one and the same.

Together they journeyed to the ocean, where, through keen magnification, they observed the condensation of a violet sunset cavorting, in blustered fervor, with thawed foliage and sunken clouds of white.

They wondered past caramel mushroom abodes, deers trapped in necking, phosphorescent trees and hospitable vines.
A world built upon the back of the collected musings of  the an emblazoned mind.

And as he grew, in him the elephant remained; a token of remembrance of all uncharted dreams and to the prodigious mastery that rests inside the thirsting veins of  not merely a Walter-Mitty, but a conjurer of immeasurable possibilities.

Porcelain Cup

July 10, 2013

And held between my knees and this gray old cotton skirt,

A porcelain cup it rests, with swivels of you in melted dirt.

And inside these swivels of you, are looping, daydreams
Sparked by deeds, not done, and never ever to be seen.

*

Steam engulfing reveries swimming in my pretty porcelain rivulet.

And all the while I take long

loud, visceral, sipssss

Close my eyes and let the vapor stroke my eager thirsty lips.

*

Sitting here, tapping my foot to the beat of my pen
Imaging you walk through the door,

over & over again & again.

Foam tracings of what was once suppressed, now expressed.
And I delightful in it’s proclivity towards daydreams tasty & undressed.

*

Oh so flushed and out of sync,

my fancy for you makes me re-run & over-think.
Proliferating feelings of upside down, right side up, see-through, covered,

 so in & sane this love drunkard.

*

But until snow and wind freeze you on my way.
(Warmth being the thing you feel with everything I say.)
I’ll spill my ink on willing leaves and scribble away brain waves.
Stare into heated porcelain and see visions;
Falling leaves falling for me, jellyfish stinging you in your head and  having you wake up in my storm happy bed.

*

Transparent cravings bottled in the angst of firmly, fixed fingers
Pressed against floating like fuzzys, sealed in my coffee rim figures.

Man Ray, Self-Portrait with Camera (1930) and, left, Solarised Portrait of Lee Miller (1929)

“But they say if you dream a thing more than once, it’s sure to come true. “

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.

This poem is getting published in the Oxford Poetry Society Magazine, Ash in London.

 

Between the Gap

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.

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.

What Is Bliss?

May 28, 2013

Press ME

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

PRESS ME!

By: Magnolia

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.

Large

crescentmoon66:Romantic Shadows by *andreasrocha

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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 in  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 waked.

*

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;

it was black lace, see-through.

I slid um 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 heat,

it thawed me out.

*

I’m like a bee playing with a cat

“here kitty kitty,

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

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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Coat I Call Home

November 30, 2012

anetaivanova04

By: Magnolia

I belong inside the fold of your coat;

Familiar, it’s scented in mahogany, from the rack it’s been hugging all day.

But now it is I who hangs, clings, so sincere and devote.

From the second the sun yawns, I am a captive of the city,

Slipping down stairs, squeezing through doors, hoping for the clock to take pity.

Moving, shaking, hustling, yellow horns & green lights,

But hidden inside the crinkle where your ink is fast asleep, is where I find my might.

Nestled in like a babe in womb, I recoil and hook my ear against your doting chest;

And I am bolstered by the mellow thump of a familiar drum and the rolling waves released then compressed.

Buried I am, in reckless abandonment, sheltered and drawn in by the whispers of a meditative om.

Like the morning brew of a cracked coffee bean and the front door left ajar, at last, I am welcomed home.

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The Dancing Beasts Illusions

November 21, 2012

By: Magnolia Lafleur

She wanted to sink into the sweet nectar pulsating inside the belly of bloomed flowers,

unreachable in a towering tree.

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Her fluttered hope, in need of a soberly affirming place of rest.

After years of arduous labor, she twirled into a perched position,

calling upon the celestial spaces to reveal its power.

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She felt it encircling yet eluding her’;

mystical dreams wrapped inside the capricious fold of a Cheshire Cat grin

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She closed her eyes and imagined herself as a dulcet beast,

clothed in regality & seated at the right hand of calmness;

With great longing for the parallel universes to tangle and resurrect her

But with each moment of ascension her eyes were met by the plummeting trunks of helpless trees

and the abandoned cry of rusted desperation.

Unmoving energy arose the tumultuous beast inside.

Breathing forth in a paroxysm of rage; the battle to self-devour had begun.

The internal workings of a beast not put to rest dangerously desiring to be heard, spilled over.

And where screaming met her lips an eye appeared,

silencing vexation and illuminating three actualities:

The first,

 a street lined with the paradox of smog engulfed by a procession of cherry blossom trees.

The second,

an Egyptian proverb spelled in the ink of curled white clouds settled upon a black night.

And finally, with no origin or end,

 a dancing rainbow, driven by madness and awash in playfull delight.

Defeated by visions, she slept.

And as she dreamt, the trees overhead, in a rapturous intercourse, swallowed her.

Freed with joyful appreciation, she surrendered

 and piece, by piece, by peace, she floated away.

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Only to be awakened by the serene movement of wind and gravity.

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Metamorphosed this time, not as a fearful beast but as a pendant in the sky, non-yielding to the stars, she bore the world.

And in the belly of her arms, the glowing earth, basking in the sweet nectar of her sovereignty to create,  slept in sedate watchfulness.

***

 The Dancing Beasts Illusions

By:Magnolia

She wanted to sink into the sweet nectar pulsating inside the belly of bloomed flowers,

unreachable in a towering tree.

Her fluttered hope, in need of a soberly affirming place of rest.

After years of arduous labor, she twirled into a perched position, calling upon the celestial spaces to reveal its power.

She felt it encircling yet eluding her, mystical dreams wrapped inside the capricious fold of a Cheshire Cat grin.

She closed her eyes and imagined herself as a dulcet beast, clothed in regality & seated at the right hand of calmness;

With great longing for the parallel universes to tangle and resurrect her.

But with each moment of ascension her eyes were met by the plummeting trunks of helpless trees and the abandoned cry of rusted desperation.

Unmoving energy arose the tumultuous beast inside.

Breathing forth in a paroxysm of rage; the battle to self-devour had begun.

The internal workings of a beast not put to rest, dangerously desiring to be heard, spilled over;

And where screaming met her lips an eye appeared, silencing vexation and illuminating three actualities:

The first, a street lined with the paradox of smog engulfed by a procession of cherry blossom trees.

The second, an Egyptian proverb spelled in the ink of curled white clouds settled upon a black night

And finally, with no origin or end, a dancing rainbow, driven by madness and awash in playful delight.

Defeated by visions, she slept.

And as she dreamt, the trees overhead, in a rapturous intercourse, swallowed her.

Freed with joyful appreciation, she surrendered and piece by piece by piece, she floated away.

Only to be awakened by the serene movement of wind and gravity.

Metamorphosed, this time, not as a fearful beast but as a pendant in the sky, non-yielding to the stars, she bore the world.

And in the belly of her arms, the glowing earth, basking in the sweet nectar of her sovereignty to create,  slept in sedate watchfulness.

 

All The World’s A Stage

November 4, 2012

 

By: Magnolia

He stood behind the floor lengthened curtain that was draped in the smugness of devoured blood

His hand vivid with trembles, his eyes swallowing the crowd,

Whilst the crowd sat ready to swallow him.

Sweat began a slothful waltz across his brow and below his nose,

And dread and tears formed the shape of conniving silver pointed at his will.

Powerless, hand to breast, he fell to knee.

He tried to think, to feel, to sip a pinch of air,

When suddenly in the belly of fearful equivocation,

The whispers of Athena plagued his heart and erected his spirit.

Truth cavorted with realization, awakening him to the actuality of his pain

It was organized internal bleeding that was the cause,

The teething birth pains of greatness decided upon a superior path too sizable for limited veins.

So amid the watchful muzzled silence he burst on to center stage

Possessed by the clairvoyant kiss of Shakespeare he drew his voice and slashed the carotid arteries of the crowd,

And infused their jugulars with the life force of God.

And as he resurrected he saw himself moving above, below and through them;

For desperation had not a place to travel but to the edge of his limbs and to the forefront of their hearts.

A performance, that shattered glass, made clouds weep and brought the dresses to their feet.

A clamorous crowd filled with the running black eyes of weeping women oblivious to their smeared faces;

He took a bow, walked off stage and was filled in all the empty places.

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Amazing image from Artist Ipalbus

Invisible Maestro

November 1, 2012

It pecked upon the twigs sloshed into 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.

By: Magnolia

Wherever You May Be

October 29, 2012

 

With no hesitation, I love you;

And without ever having seen your face or touched your lips, it is you I need.

A vision from childhood flowing through my veins implanted in the seed of me;

Although absent from my grasp, I will wait for you.

A stranger in passing yet a lover at heart,

From inception I’ve known you, as I know myself, a collaborative work of art.

And be not fearful my darling, for We exist,

Although the world may not try to convince us of this.

For in the sands of time, the Gods have written our story;

Two lovers bound beyond flesh, mounted and drawn into the constellations, awaiting first kisses glory.

And with sweet longing and sometimes sad emotion, I think of you.

Believing that no beautiful thing stands alone, is true;

So until we meet, wherever you may be,

I shall dwell within you, and you, within me.

As I close my eyes and remain faithful to the visions I see,

No matter the bustle, no matter the noise,

Beyond my body, I wait for you with distinct poise.

So here it is, a letter to you my dearest love,

I send this out to the heavens above;

With a kiss I do sign, eyes shut, with your hand in mine;

Together as one, until the stars align.

Gazing at the same star, We shall be but one traveler,

 Merely waiting upon time, to make us one lover.

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 Name: Bubble Nebula
Constellation name: Cassiopeia
Constellation common name: The Queen
Description: NGC 7635, also known as the Bubble Nebula, is an emission nebula in Cassiopeia, located 12,000 light years from the Sun. This is a large and extremely faint nebulae, a serious challenge for visual observers. It requires an extremely dark sky, averted vision, and a narrow-band nebula filter.

By: Magnolia

This I Know

October 28, 2012

By: Magnolia

I don’t want to be drunk, I want to feel everything

I want to be bold and peel back my fears

I want to be skinned and face my flesh

I want to walk around with my insides out

I want to sink in the pain of being rejected so that I may learn to swim

I want to fall and feel the bruises upon my knee so that I may be cautious of where I step

I want to bite my tongue and swallow the taste of salt and metal so that I choose my words with delicacy

I want to be without so I know what it is to be with everything

I want to be emptied out so that you can fill me up

I want my thoughts to run away from me so that I may hear silence

I want to not pick so that I may let you choose

I want to be happy for this loss so that I may be at peace with your gain

I want to swallow sand so that water tastes like wine

I want my eyes sewn shut so I learn to see with my heart

I want to be born in darkness so that I may see the light

I want to be pricked with a needle so I can feel the softness of a rose pedal

I want to exist for the sun against my lids and the water between my toes

And most of all, I want to not want at all so that I may simply be

And in this way I will see the divine universe with stillness and love unfold inside of me