It is with this intention
That I grow into unique
But not a unique so unique
It looses it’s physique
For lost and alone
Was never a soul
To be borne or simply left
Just lost in the lagoon
Trampling skunk cabbage
And swinging aimlessly
About low hanging branches
Of a bountiful weeping willow
To find the end to gather up
A handful of bull-rushes
That I so delicately paste
Upon the small of my back
To become my wings as I carry on
Forward and truth,
Happy New Year to all
The game is upon us now.
Month: December 2015
Lifeless (day 1675)
I have alarmed
The blackest darks,
A place I dare not seek.
Yet even so
With all my quotes
I’m still as lifeless
As thee.
Mine Own Dagger (day 1674)
Dagger’s claws
At my shadow –
Cast upon the wall,
This silent story
Unfolded from
The backseat of a
Four horse pulled carriage.
Creaking springs and
Horses hooves
Left the night full of content.
But I, macabre,
Silently went;
No companion at my side.
Yet lightly had I begun my way
When I recognized my fate:
My future was –
Decidedly –
Not within my luggage close,
But upon my back,
Mine own enemy,
Cloaked in
One thousand names
I shall speak of nevermore.
Tonight’s Sky (day 1673)
To be the lonesome desperado
Spread out on the plain,
Looking for mescalato
In a dusty town again.
What was the last thing that she said
As I kissed her our last goodbye:
“I will expect you back again,
For you’re mine and mine till end.”
As the sun chasing through
Clouds about the sky
A sister hopes out loud tonight
As I say what’s left is true.
The Purr of Gaia (day 1672)
Dear George,
The letters from Salem finally arrived today. I had been preparing for them all week – harvesting a few varieties of toadstools in the forest around the area.
Bonhomie fills my heart this time of season. I wear my warm clothes and delight in an extra cup of coffee most days. Are you still exploring your art of the bean? I have started to use a scale to measure proportions for my perfect cup of coffee.
As I read through the hand written letters, the snow started falling here. Big large flakes that have started to stay on the ground, lazily floating there chaotically.
I love this time of year. The browns are so dominant, lacking most any signs of the lush green foliage of summer’s heat. It soothes the black heart inside of me, calling out to me slowly as I imagine the sweet embracing, icy fingers of Gaia as she slowly settles into fetal position – eyes flickering slowly – for a calm rest. Much like the feline.
I saved a feline from certain death two weeks ago. It had come pawing at my door after I fed it one lonely night. I had seen it fishing in garbage cans for luck earlier that week. We tracked down the owner who said it was left behind during a move half way across the country.
Can you imagine the absurdity of that? Moving half way across the country and leaving without your cat?
It’s a beautiful cat with the fullest of coats and a purr that shakes the icicles from sweet Gaia grip as she slowly settles into my black heart.
I look forward to hearing from you soon. The lovely sketch that accompanied your last letter was so enchanting. I’ve had it sitting on my windowsill since you sent it.
Much love,
Lizarious
Tobacco Blood (day 1671)
I am an ancient sailor who
Has sent in for the weather,
Cigarette and pea coat fending
Off my worst of every thoughts.
But aye, the closest thing to land
Is but a mirage in my eye,
So I will keep on biting in
To my twist of tobacco blood.
At Nothing Rest (day 1670)
I’ve left my full moon walking the shoreline, skirting the tides that flush out madness awake and away.
Can your heart feel the holy trinity at rest?
Rocks I picked up and felt cursing through my palm left light stains upon my fingerprints I had washed thoroughly before opening my eyes. I laid down and felt the uncomfortable massage upon my twisted back and hoped the pain would soon ease its way back toward the crashing ocean cooling my pride.
Here, from my breasts, a light slowly eroded my choice.
Lightly brushing my consciousness were scattering rocks and squawking seagulls rummaging the midday sun like a busy squirrel exercising it’s memory.
I was gone, and this is what was left.
Full (day 1669)
I waited up to see my full moon
Shining through my full glass
Satiating my full desire
Hidden deep within my full belly
And kept warm in my full house
Decked full of surprises
For a full celebration
About this full Christmas tree
We’ve emptied of life.
Faith (day 1668)
My faith lies in unopened bottles of wisdom
Set aside for perfect occasions,
Fermenting away like the apple cider vinegar
That cures every single one of my problems.
I make tinctures and rattle them bottles
Until sediment and health
Expels my deathly energy
That filters down through ice cubes
Rattling away.
Mended Arrows (day 1667)
I’ve left out all my wiles
For a holiday in heaven,
A turn upon the road
To reach where my heart is still as still can be.
You, you were always forgiveness,
You were the mended arrow
A light beyond my vision
But illuminating my walk.
And how come I’ve been dreaming
Of a memory I’m believing
When I’ve got all of my stories
In a rucksack on my back.
There were twenty one good reasons
To hold onto the heathens
As they quickly walked on past
All in excitement and pure jubilee.
But you, you are plenty appealing
You hold me in good standing
And have brought me all my planning
That’s been brought out in the end.
So darling, reach out your good hand,
A wand of my believing,
To make my heart forever bleeding
As an arrow for your sweet light.
