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.

tumblr_mk0dqsbnkv1riqurjo1_400.gif
11918019_695292617269636_1453046193_n
11809838_880523038690270_2091021890_n
11820614_991033980917825_681651989_n
11350664_885445168176756_170027266_n
10520254_1637059696557001_1548395937_n
11849419_1073625286011258_101280578_n
11374041_1486055898372913_1750048970_n
11939293_1622805278007177_1565635487_n
tumblr_m2mh5p7zax1rn0y7so1_5003.gif
images
11356783_1700881713474081_1771044407_n

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.

The Wilderness

October 8, 2020

Wild?
It is but civil.

Scattered trees whose nails are painted in rose buds and thorns
Waving inside the lofty breath of rushed and waited wind.
Quiet, its weathered lids, canopies above
your quick-flirting eyes.


And you,
You cannot woo it, even should you try.


For it is the wild that drowns unmerciful structures.
It doe not speak through electrical wires and erect thumbs;
Nor does deal in self-devouring gold.
Crowned in the mirth of a quintessential performance,
It’s self-invigorated

As the rivers do not mind you, or me.
Above we see mere clutter, but below,
Below its all one grand parade.
Organized, processions of  apple roots, warm clay and leaves, as emerald as eyes,
journeying to drink beneath sun-bathing water lilies.
This rivers skin, reflective and teary eyed, like bottled wine drunk on light,
it absorbs EVERYTHING.

And this,
THIS is my wilderness!

Mad, its barks reveals its pouting veins buried beneath wrinkled moss.
Its ceremonial quirks, and exiled sounds,
They twirl and turn and take me.
Somehow transforming corrosive syllables into brilliant, soundless, swishing waves.

Here, one has not a choice but to listen & behave.

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.

The Rarefied & Colorful

August 4, 2020

 

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.

Eden, I Am But A Visitor

August 1, 2019

Eden, I Am But A Visitor

IMG_20180307_014024_741

“And in the beginning, life, like shattered shells splintering the solitude of a slumbering tounge, it slit, spilt and fertilized nebulous dreams.

tenor (2)giphy (11)

And just like that and oh so suddenly, with the wind against my teeth I was born.

tumblr_m3kxlqJrgw1qcq6zzo1_500

Slapped, belligerent and bear chested
Heart raged & reclined against varnished rubber ribs, clinging to the water in which it lived.

giphy (12)Vertiginous light, truely naked and all devouring sound, you’ve resurrected me from vapor, liquid to one solid mound;

giphy (6).gif

And here now, I am now here a life.

tenor (3)

And you, oh so solid feeling pain?

IMG_20180816_044919_586
“Finally free, unencumbered light. It was a seed in a planted tree that created me.”

IMG_20180318_003738_890

tumblr_m66wxvBoZd1rsq9eyo1_500_large

Oh sweet, apple of my eye,
geometric stills, I cannot see where they truly lie.

Screenshot_2018-03-19-02-28-55Screenshot_2018-03-19-02-28-39

Pathological movement nailed to growth,
Tormenting and ticking this sculpted sands bleeding beats, doomed to a moral code, an oath of good deeds.

fluid_berkeleyhands

And at the entrance to mortality, a chair of choice soaked in the blood of everything I will come to love, your voice.

IMG_20180310_015712_791

And yet still, I am but a visitor, a pilgrim crossing  carnivorous rivers, moving to keep solitary cells in their proper jails, wanting to meet my home in the space where whispers reside, hoping for the fruit of our labor, that we both bit, to bear our bonded bones before we are a drift.

tumblr_nq63hsXlnA1tfls37o1_500

bd877c22f66346e3a29529707b95eb24.gif

3eb479c264538eea715422620a2c34a8

IMG_20180519_020222_439

And so here I am, Frankensteins monster, cultivating understanding, adapting to longevity, bedazzled by the questions that come from first bites, disheartened by mechanized beings and forever searching for Adam in my dreams.”

tumblr_opt3ihyGzB1umx555o1_500

-Magnolia

(© 2018 Magnolia HL)

Acrylic on camvas 16×20

Mozart’s Beak

January 16, 2019

-ONE MUST GO BEYOND TO BECOME-

Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-41-37

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-43-22

Here, my blood boils between sighing senses and a sewn In gut
Like cats teeth
I gnaw and claw at my weakest strands
Pulling apart the places where I failed to take a stand.

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-44-47

I stand heart swelling between my pores
pushing
this scared crows beak through atmospheric places fighting for MORE!

GrouchyParallelGrayling-max-1mb
tumblr_m5hhluNKda1rnc14vo1_500.gif

Ruin and rapture, left to swim amongst the stars I soar.

tumblr_p0x7lzfqR21uh1jtjo1_500.gif

As my lips peel themselves around
Paradoxical pastries pleasurable and poisonous

IMG_20180310_012750_021
It is my insides that hemorrhage rabid &  boisterous.

Adom split, I am divided by three

egg-animation_splitcell-division-gif-3-1

dDwcItysPztZK
Frozen shelled it’s my soul that screams FREE!

giphy (2)Pouting, swollen in arrogance
It bleeds through my eyes
Where I remain is far from where my soul flies.

IMG_20150901_230936

sourcetumblr_nbvy5isVUb1tjsogwo1_500

blast

And as I sink beneath the graveled earth, devoured
by swallowing mud and loving larva

tumblr_mgp78yHpj31ro5y75o1_50024dad342e3485f896797026453dde5e0
it’s Mozart’s beak that reminds me of Nirvana

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-44-18IMG_20180816_050241_120Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-44-57

Flapping feathers furrowed then freed above
fluffy mounds of blushed cotton,
Breeze brushing backwards beyond dreams begotten.
Tonight I dream of leaving it all, of basking in the forgotten.

IMG_20180306_030217_658

pboxtumblr_osqxigdr7p1wsphtyo1_500

And in that warm, dusk kissed light,
Horizon stretched
My insanity is etched
A thicket of desires beating through pounds of flesh.

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-42-20
Thirsting for resurrection, I stop only to drink from my own reflection.

IMG_20180818_023304_429Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-46-26

Still stood, cold framed
Purged
And sweaty
I soar with Mozart, extending myself, creating compositions, rubbed and ready

giphy53e6b84a1338dd6c796982ab4d2fdf71
Violent they’ve become sharpened steal pointed and pinning
Forcing me to go to the beginning.

l_1efdb315d9945e88f3abb03980c5cfaacover-660x371
And in the beginning, “the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”
My veins weep as my breath, it leaps beyond this eternal sleep.

giphy (5)

IMG_20180310_015353_927

Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.

giphy (4).gif

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-43-31

But should you look upon my pushed past in present face

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-43-48
There you’ll find, entombed inside gorged lids, my soul, the God of impenetrable space.  beakMOZ1

original

By: Magnolia Lafleur

What is Bliss?

September 14, 2018

 

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?

 

Tumblr_mdzhi9hlrk1rluawwo1_500_large

 

 By: Magnolia
 

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.

giphygiphy (1)

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.

tumblr_onboshyANA1uhjffgo1_5005368f6c036598c6e619eba2cede17d0c

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

giphy (3)

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

fc7e92ea97ce57fbd752ab1661637fa89fdd93eetumblr_mgp78yHpj31ro5y75o1_500

TheRarefied&Colorful2014

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.”

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. “

Be Happy!!!

July 7, 2013


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

45036_454635801257832_1204976131_n

chanel-iman-in-hm-2009-holiday-magazine-231109-1

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.

Of The Night

July 1, 2013

And when it’s sets, with its peering eyes,

like Christmas bulbs blinking through black stitches,

what does it think?

Scarred by reflections of angst yet riveted from   illustrious deeds;

That heavy night.

Dense in darkness and lonely in speech,

it enunciates through it’s vastness;

Postured in silent elegance,

it says “Nothing.”

With sedate frequency it dwells in plummet-less breaths.

Infinity,

in.

And then,

languidly,

out.

Watching for the world to look up, seductive in its gaze,

it’s cloaked in the madness of ticking hearts

conjoined with collapsed lips.

That heavy night

Like the coat of a romanced black stallion it rouses embracing and beckons the moon.

And I like every creature, with one foot vexed inside the tremors of olden slumbers, and the next,

detailed inside the scarlet breath that is now, stand erect, faced pressed agog, against the black, overbearing night,

That heavy night.

Not a mere curtain to the end, but a prelude

to newly imagined beginnings.

A  dwelling place for dreams to drip upon a vacuous canvas.

Oh that heavy night.



tumblr_lkfjja6MwS1qebcl4o1_500

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?

 

Tumblr_mdzhi9hlrk1rluawwo1_500_large

 

 

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.

Large

tumblr_mlxd635pkc1s2skm4o1_500.gif

Tumblr_lwxl0dfnh81qejioeo1_500_large

cropped-therarefiedcolorful2014

tumblr_lpqhvy7mse1qa0ei0o1_500.jpg

tumblr_lmhhfze8x41qbyyogo1_400.jpgbokeh-bokeh-photography-dots-photography-purple-favim-com-268366.jpgcropped-tumblr_llznll4o3y1qah5ozo1_500.jpgtumblr_mdsk18gsvk1rkoc0bo1_500.jpgtumblr_mi6n1t7onb1r6am3io1_500.jpgtumblr_mebk4owuye1r3pw6qo1_1280.jpgcropped-tumblr_ly2365cwbh1qbf39go1_500.jpgtumblr_mkdrvikcoz1qzvpq6o1_5001.gif

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.

tumblr_mjirhflajj1rwadubo8_250


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.

526404_604159932945572_929821748_n_large

“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

Tumblr_min1gvqmce1qca450o1_r1_500_large

D21166b4e51a5799aa260f1c502a91af_large

483850_592730647422883_66391836_n_large

Tumblr_mjx583av571r2gzgbo1_500_large

546161_155508987950235_1737647758_n_large

267274_large

Ed522977df2312f026db00feaaf87e7c_large

 

Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

La Luna

March 22, 2013

File:Crab Lucky video2.gif

Once upon a moonlit tale, born inside a planted jar,

is where he fell in love with a delicate evening glowing star.

While trapped inside this heavy mass,

he reached his rays beyond the glass.

Though stuck and filled with fright, he knew one thing,

He’d do anything to have her see his light.

So pointed at the night one day,

he poured himself upon the fractured driveway.

Swimming in-between its cracks,

he found his way upon the oceans back.

And while challenged betwixt the midnight waves,

He held on to the glimmer of light inside of her beating gaze.

And when reaching became tiresome and the wind a heavy burden

He reached upon the feathers of a willing black raven.

Into the sky this light was carried,

while pulsating he hid his eyes beneath ruffled feathers, hopeful & teary

From beneath the oceans belly to sleeping above a bed of cotton

His dreams became more puissant, as he neared the place once forgotten.

And as he reached the sky, he let out a big breath and died.

With abrupt euphoria his rays danced inside the darkness

And his message thundered into the void where her heart was.

“Can’t you see my love,

the world is so small and we big in it.

I just needed to think that beings like you exist.

I hope its okay for me to confess all of this.”

And before his final word was etched,

she reached her arms to him outstretched.

Pressed against the midnight sky, her lips upon his cheek she kissed

And revealed they collided, taking pleasure in each-others eternal bliss.

 

 

5730655005572404128_large

544125_298039123659477_772263273_n_large

Cdb9b3f4a80bb0a95dc6c8e82b52f8c4_large

Tumblr_mjw0e9jzp91r4jajqo1_400_large

Tumblr_miw91nwzcy1rl8ny1o1_250_large

Tumblr_miwt6fyxg61qfxrc9o1_500_largeTumblr_mikr7q1arx1rn6ureo1_500_large

Tumblr_mjcrqbavn51s6qhuao1_500_large

Tumblr_mgp3n3g6po1s0aso7o1_500_large

Tumblr_mdtuylzste1qftpa0o1_500_large

Tumblr_mjw0b5m8p91r4jajqo1_500_large

_h_r_d8mak8_large

Img_9569eo3bwbirdss_large

Tumblr_mjy4j7rl5i1r488cjo1_500_large

4368882582_b27f1a18cd_large

Tumblr_mk19h8nlo41rzagi6o1_400_large

379667_410521529042175_284694327_n_large

Tumblr_mg2dkjgqwd1r5kgm8o1_500_large

Tumblr_mjtvnbvxrm1r2ubh9o1_500_large

Begin Again

Dclc82t_large

6931099907_071bb120b7_z_large

542780_575439439140993_16716789_n_largeTumblr_mj5al3mhfn1qjmo4xo1_500_large

Tumblr_mk0yu2d6dh1ryt169o1_500_large

Tumblr_mk14xvoizd1r5gq80o1_500_large

Tumblr_mfyl7ad8l51rk3wflo1_500_large

Tumblr_mk0vu1g1il1r8mmrfo1_500_large

Tumblr_mjsb94s08w1qkj43qo1_500_large

555773_414700891957572_215384022_n_large

418613_104524246362983_1748368868_n_large

Tumblr_m4kabecy6q1r5l858o1_500_large

Bf7pfxqcaaa1br4_large

Tumblr_mjop1jla0a1qctfedo1_500_large

To the Be of Things

March 20, 2013

625639_10151562243796477_1469656249_n_large

You didn’t.

I did.

We aren’t.

*

So now sway and tilt and droop,

I will not.

*

No more,

Lull, mum, quiet,

Little

sounds.

*

I’m going,

to the Be of things.

*

Big,

brazen,

beautifully bazaar.

*

No more

Twinkled eyes, prancing pain and panicked,  pleasing.

But barefoot and bold,

boomingly, blissful

un-bashful- beats!

*

Rhythms made foreign to an over-bending back.

Bent on pleasing,

Bent on appeasing.

Coddling?  I must be stronger

Truant? Any? no longer.

*

I’m going

beyond busted glass with bodaciously blue lips

Blemished with brawn as a  bombshell buxom

*

Comatose till shock did I part

What was once dull is now silver

and stingingly,

 sharp.

*

 And decidedly so,

as a Be,

is so much bigger,

than a frowning spine and passive tongue;

Traced,

by behemoth pain.

Released through hot and sweaty

legs and neck and fingers and veins.

All,

tied,

to the key of believing past a running brain and scattered eyes.

So then I must.

I’m moving,

To the Be of things.

Tumblr_miwrribyrd1rvz58vo1_400_large

Tumblr_mjfjp8itue1r8834go1_400_large

Tumblr_mjmtbpnxfq1s0hnuzo1_500_large

 Tumblr_mf06xynvzo1rb8hsgo1_400_large

Tumblr_mk4t7gh1sd1rjq0y9o1_500_large

Tumblr_mk4tmi9vej1qdgfaho1_400_large

2233_large

1e7159c41f520ed6a89890e3d6adedaa_large

286189751291936399_5BehQLUS_b

10724568-the-spines-black-and-white-nature-photography-branch-with-multiple-spines-horizontal-macro-photo

257127459945518427_Wq3XBZa6_222

5a27f73b001053d3514c6beb_large

Tumblr_mjgpwkjub61qkww7to1_500_large

735094_545687375453953_2141530117_n_large

385962_508632292520725_1612949928_n_large

188400_579632148728619_70410586_n

The actual photo failed, so I give you:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
The inverted inside of a polaroid

Tumblr_mk48mom1xc1ricazoo1_500_large

Lens20549924_1360086076aa_large

Tumblr_mj7ro7pojp1rp56jso1_500_large

Tumblr_mk3ytr7nnd1rxjiflo1_500_large

bow_tie_-_ralph_lauren_-_nibs_blog-oNax7bnx3I

tumblr_m4lf8a3CUK1r87i11o1_5003146592052_1_2_rf5guec0_large

Ieawjwl_large

28

408989_464169976988801_253208898_n_large

208514_420412258053353_1428321491_n_largeTumblr_mk4ivrdyhq1rxjiflo1_500_large

480643_10151335811268951_177367873_n_large

304982_429014660484040_2070651713_n_large

95490454569165735y64b41ulc_large

tumblr_m2ugz9KliM1qe31lco4_r1_250

544300_614073535275015_436626479_n_large

Tumblr_mg4bsozruz1qmbg8bo1_500_large

Tumblr_m4l6h08ldj1qh9vzro1_500_large

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.

Tumblr_mk4sw3afmp1s90lp7o1_500_large