Your Eternal Dance

Your Eternal Dance

Some say you should be my queen,
but I am more Fool than king.

A Fool will not rule
or be ruled,
but is always open
to worship,
drawn to it,
like the flame
to the moth
fluttering
close enough
to be illuminated,
to have its magic
made clear.

I will not crown you
my Queen;
instead I will adore you,
pray under your divine light,
whisper your name
to the sky
to invoke you,
venerate you for the goddess
I know you to be.

Some say you should be my queen,
but regents are too prone
to tyranny, to staking claims,
to bending nature
to their own whims;
these things are beneath you.
Your proclivities lie
in creation, inhaling
death to exhale stars,
consuming stars
to excrete Life.

Some say you should be a queen,
but you rise
above titles,
beyond law,
past present or future.
I bow before you,
not out of obeisance,
but in reverence, hoping
that, given your place
in the pantheon of my heart,
you will allow me
to partake in your eternal
dance.

Bloom

Bloom
My Love,
my Moon,
my Muse,
my wide Night Sky,
my sweet lotus flower—
O, sit ol' lotus,
perched upon your pad,
sit & stay with me
a while.

I want to watch
you bloom, under
the rays of the moon, watch
each precious petal
spreading itself
to embrace the Universe.

I cannot bear
to watch you 
hide inside yourself, 
within walls
you would build
to block out
the very light 
that makes you shine.

So be wise
my sweet lotus,
as you wander to ponds
old & new—
your head wants left alone
while your heart wants to roam,
but your spirit will carry you
home.

Night Falls

Night falls
& I rise
to meet her,
bury my mountains
deep, so deep
her stars burn me,
turn me, I churn
& erupt
in torrid ash clouds
& magnificent magma.

My Night erupts
simultaneously, 
pouring
forth liquid life,
cooling my fervent fire,
whetting my thirst
in rivers that flow
to form oceans
where only desert—
empty wasteland—
once stood. I would 
be nothing
without Her,
my Night
bearing the water
of Life
to this once
barren Earth—
her air fueling
my fire inducing
her water infusing
my soil seeding
her air until
Creation
has been acheived—
& I am relieved,
knowing She leaves
Me with the arrival
of the Sun,
leaves me
with reminders
of our love,
crawling, swimming,
running, flying—
filling me
until my Night
falls again,
& I rise.

The Longest Day

Another Poem inspired by Nüt & Geb

 The Longest Day

How long must I burn
under this cruel Sun,
expose myself
to the light
when all I want
is darkness? 

I miss my Night,
cloaked in her blueblack
robe full of the infinity
of stars, spread
only for me, 
to show the Moon
glowing in her womb.

There existed only me,
& Her, & our lust. 

But Shu, in wisdom,
knew The Earth
needed Life,
needed to grow,
needed to prosper,
& He blew
us apart
with a promise:
Soon enough
my Love & I
will be reunited,
if only for a few, 
brief hours,
until that Sun,
that cruel, cruel sun,
returns to chase
Her away.

I already hate
the Sun,
& it's only 
the first day.

The longest day.

So I wait
for this day
to give way,
for this Sun
to drown
in the horizon,
for Night to descend,
to envelop me
as she once did,
to fill me
with her darkness,
to dazzle me
with her stars. 

Will this day never end? 

Won't the Sun
at least suspend
His cruelty long
enough for me
to simply taste
the bliss that is
my Night,
my Night,
my precious
Night?

Purgatory

Purgatory

I put You through Hell,
so I suppose I deserve
no less than purgatory.
 
I must climb
that mountain alone,
without You. 
There is no other path
to redemption,
to forgiveness,
no other way
to wash
these wounds.

So I will begin
by scaling Pride,
bearing the stone
of my own creation
upon my bare back.
I will stare down
on my way up,
learning to see
everything beneath me
with more clarity.

Envy seems easy,
as I have a generous spirit;
but here too,
there is work to do,
to roam with my eyes
sewn shut
until I learn to listen
to my heart,
to stop hating
those ready to take
what I’ve lost.
Ownership is
only arbitrary.

I will rise
above Wrath,
allow my meek 
nature to shine
through, not let
myself be blinded,
choked,
by wrath’s acrid 
smoke & seek
harm for those
who’ve caused
me pain.

I shall not be beaten
by Sloth, by my desire
to fold,
to hide,
to die
in the face
of each failure, 
to get lost
in perpetual mourning.
Rather, I must work,
keep busy,
keep moving,
keep living,
for death before dying
is a Hell in Life,  
a perilous prison
in whose residence
my soul would only rot.

I will glide
through Greed,
as my desire
for things, for riches,
for great gain,
has never been
debilitating.
My desires have always
lain elsewhere.

Nor am I saddled
with Gluttony,
being One of
moderation,
for the most part.
That is not to say
that there are not times
when temperance
is needed,
when I allow
myself to get lost
in the smoke
forgetting how Holy
the fumes are. 

Lust.
Ah, Lust!
How to even begin
battling those flames,
fighting the fire
that consumes me
for You? Here,
like Dante, I
will lie in wait,
afraid to face
my flaws.
Here, You must be
my Virgil, reminding
me that only in
risking getting burned
can I ever hope
to reunite
with my own,
beloved Beatrice.

& here I will summit,
each sin purged,
brushed away
by the wings
of angels.
I will summit,
reach Paradise,
find my innocence, 
redemption,
forgiveness. 

Yet I am full
of fear,
fear that for all
my climbing,
for all my penance, 
I will learn much,
but earn nothing:
No Beatrice to guide
me through Heaven,
No Love to fly me
over the hard,
cold rock I have
traveled. But I cannot 
allow fear to stop me. 

I walk this path to heal,
not to be rewarded. 
Your Love is a gift
which I must be prepared
to never receive, again.
But I tell you,
My Love,
MY LOVE, 
It is what drives me.

If You do ever offer
Your blessing again,
to feel Heaven again,
I swear to keep it
Holy, for Heaven 
is no place 
for the lowly.

Jealousy

Penelope unweaving her father's burial shroud

Jealousy

I’m not blind
to the subtle
changes: new
passwords,
emailboxes,
making certain
that your facebook
is always logged off,
your face
perpetually booked
into your phone,
the way your eyes
& lips smile slyly
when you’re flirting—
the way they once smiled
for me—
stories
that add up,
but don’t.

Subtle, except
in sum, & I expect
not as subtle to some
less dumb than I
have been of late.

& I find
myself
jealous,
not because other men can touch
you, I know they can’t,
but because they reach you
like I once could,
like I once did:
with a word
or a glance
or a smile,
because they can reach
you more easily than I can
with little more than a text.

So, forgive me
my baseless suspicions,
excuse my infinity
of questions,
ignore
the self-inflicted
anxieties laying waste
to me from the inside
out. I was the One
to make a mess
of things, the One
who allowed the suitors
to swarm
during my selfish
odyssey.

I will return
to hold the high
place in your heart
I once did,
& you will not
have to undo
the burial shroud
you shrewdly weave.

I will return
& I will see
your eyes
& lips smile
slyly
for me
again,
& jealousy
will die
painfully,
like each & every
one of Penelope’s
suitors. 

Sky

Sky
Open the Sky for me.

Let me see the beauty that lies

underneath, the air of Life,

the bearer of stars.

I am not worthy of such glory,

a greater Fool than me

does not exist, but if the Sky

will let me peek

under Her glorious clouds,

my gratitude will be shown

in eternal

worship.

I Do Not Need & The Fall

I Do Not Need 

I do not need to kiss you,
hold you, fuck you.
I don't even need to touch you.
I only need you close
enough to smell that sweet
scent that reignites
the fire that has consumed
me during your absence.

The Fall

I am a leaf—goldredbrown
Drifting down,
Fluttering around
Until I hit
The ground
where I will lie
Until I dessicate,
Whither & dry.

I will become hard,
Brittle, resisting the Earth
That is calling me
Until the sky cries,
Her grace crowning me
King, & I swell
Full of just enough
Life to accept
My fate.

Water: A Love Story

Birth

When the Earth was newly born, it was barren, dry. Yemaya, a goddess, baptized the Earth with the oceans of her womb, giving birth to the seas, the rivers, the lakes. This fertilized the Earth, & the Earth gave forth life.

 
Rebirth

“¿Did you know,” I tell more than ask her, “that water is the
most important ingredient for life?” I love talking science. She loves listening to me talk science.

“Of course,” she replies, almost defensively, “¿We’re like, what, 80% water?”

“Sixty, actually, but it’s more than that. Water is the only chemical compound that gets less dense when it gets solid. That allows it to float when frozen. Otherwise, ice would crush out life in winter. If water sank when it froze, we wouldn’t be here.”

She thinks for a bit. My heart stalls as I watch her smile fade. “¿What are we doing here?” she asks.

I hesitate, looking for the right words. “I’ve stopped evaluating it. I figure, at this point, it is what it is. Everybody’s gonna see it differently anyway—your husband, my wife, our kids. ¿Why even bother trying to explain it? I would say that we’re honoring Original creation, a lot, but who would get that, really?”

She thinks for a second before pouting out that smile she pouts out, that one I love, the one that reminds me that we are all nothing more than needy children. “Yeah. You’re right. ¿Why bother?” Her eyes widen as I watch the light reflect sparkles on the irises of her chartreuse eyes. She shies. Turns away. Rises. “I’m going downstairs,” she announces, “¿need anything?”

“Nothing. Just you, Yem. But a little water would be nice,” I reply as I slowly drift back into the afterglow.

∞

REALLY Old Poetry

The following poems are two of my oldest, written when I was in my very early 20s, before I took my first college level writing course. Laugh at me if you want, but be kind. Besides, vampires are still vogue, right?

Eternal

I'd love to be a vampire
& entice you with my grace,
seduce you with my bedroom eyes,
take you in my dark embrace,

Then we could both be vampires
& watch eternities unfold,
witness history come & go,
never growing old.

We'd be creatures of the dark,
free of mortal complications,
free to love a million years,
melting in with each new generation.

The seven wonders of the world
would exist solely for us to admire;
we'd watch them crumble to the earth;
we'd create new wonders to our desire.

I'd show you the land;
you'd show me the sea,
yet our greatest pleasure
would lie 'tween each others knees.

We would live together,
                  run together,
                  love together,
                  hunt together.

Until at a time of our choosing,
once we knew we could no longer be,
You & I would walk hand in hand into the fire,
to join the ashes of eternity.

Under the Whatever Tree

¿Strolling? Yeah, strolling:
Strolling, with an adolescent giddiness
I haven't felt since my days of scholarly pursuit,
(Yeah, right! More like my pursuit of a good time.)
strolling, with her strolling next to me,
& I'm a clumsy little schoolboy again
wanting, trying to hold her hand;
but I don't, not sure if I should,
not sure she wants me to,
not sure she wants me.

So I settle for sly touches
disguised as clumsy little bumps,
& we stroll & bump & sip cheap tequila
trying not to make funny faces,
(¡God that shit tastes terrible!)
until we feel all good & tingly,
& we stroll under a sycamore
(or whatever, I don't know trees)
to relax on a bed of grass & headlines.

Frolic? ¡Yeah, Frolic!
We frolicked just a little bit,
under the Whatever Tree,
pinching, prying, tickle-poking,
a bit of laughter, a bit of joking,
having fun enjoying the bit of numbness
between our ears.
We got each other sticky sweet,
(Or she got me, I can't speak for her)
Until our eyes catch,
(kinda like what always happens in soaps & chick flicks, you know?),
& of course, we kissed,
we kissed,
& we kissed
under the Whatever Tree;
& of course I wanted more,
but it wasn't my place to ask,
& I didn't.

I just start strolling, again
all the way to the subway;
she watches me leave,
leaves me wanting more.

Tarot for Beginners

Tarot for Beginners

“Draw
a card before you go,”
She interrupts.
Not stopping 

my story
I reach out
& blindly pull one
at random; lay
it face down
between us.

“You’re not
going to look?”
She asks, smiling,
staring at the paper
destiny I simply
ignore.

“I’m still talking
here,” I reply,
“and if you can
just keep
your mind on
that, when I’m ready,
I’ll flip it over.
Otherwise, feel free
to flip it for me.”

“Oh no,”
She replies as
Her smile spreads
to her eyes,
as She glares at
her neglected Tarot.
The card itself
expands
like a sponge soaking
in moisture, but I hold
true to my word
& wait until I’m ready.

¡Flip! It’s Death
& we both start
laughing. “Death
doesn’t mean death,”
She begins.

“It means change,”
I finish, “I know.
My mother pulled
Tarot for friends
when I was young.
You learn that
Lesson One.”

“That’s right,”
She replies, finally
looking me in the eyes
—that sea of golden
brown flecked green
exploring what’s inside
me. ¿What does she
see? ¿The Fool
or The Hanged Man? 

¿The Zero

or The Hero?

¿& why couldn’t I
have drawn Lovers?
I suddenly remember
why, which makes me rise,
say my goodbyes, & fly
before She has me
draw another,
like The Tower,
which would make
the world crumble
right before my eyes.

Jasmine

The one poem of mine that I've memorized, always ready to recite on queue. Written circa 1992.

Jasmine

I put my fingers to my nose
& smell the sweet scent of jasmine.
It seems amazing that once I touched her
the scent never went away.

I close my eyes, fists pressed tight
against them, & through the stars
I see her face.
It seems amazing that once I touched her
the scent never went away.

I lick at my tears as they roll
down my face, & through the salt
I taste the essence of our sin.
It seems amazing that once I touched her
the scent never went away.

& through the static of my speakers
I can hear her sweet,
sweet jasmine voice, speaking
to my soul, singing,
"I love you."
Is it so amazing that I needed only touch
her once, & now I know
the scent will never go away.

Chosen

Howdy folx. I'm feeling a bit broody today, which sometimes makes for decent poetry. Here's what came out. Let me know what you think.

Chosen

I love you,

said the Universe

as she pummeled me

into the Earth,

ripped my corpse

out of the dirt

only to throw me

against weathered mountains.

I have chosen you,

She says as I slide

into cool rivers,

chosen you to show

humanity its foolish folly

its varicose vanity

its egregious ego.

I rest upon a riverbank

feeling no pain

because I am pain,

& I remember

being a child

being beaten

by my mother

beyond submission

beyond comprehension.

Afterwards

she would always hold me

in her arms, cradle me,

rock me softly,

& tell me tenderly,

I’m sorry. I do this

because I love you.

You can’t fail.

You are hope.

You are chosen.

My Night ( A Poem)

This poem was inspired by the myth of Nüt & Geb, a personal favorite.

My Night

¿How can I

stay away

when You wrap

so tightly

about Me,

sealing,

enveloping,

protecting Me

from Everything,

leaving room

for Nothing

else but the feel

of You wrapped

tight about me

like wet rice

paper?

¿What else

can I do

Sister Sky—

Heaven full

of stars,—

but grind

inside You

until My mountains

are raw

& My rivers

boil beneath

Your pressure,

Your pleasure,

Your gravity?

¿So what

if there is room

for naught—

nothing but

us, no space

for other Gods

to roam between

Us, to breathe?

The feel

of Your breath

is all I need.

Let Them separate

Us if they must—

make room

for Creation,

for Life,

for Other

than Our bond.

¿Could we expect

Them to continue

Existence smothered

between Us?

It matters

not, my Nüt—

They can keep

Us apart—

divided for only

so long

before Night

once again wraps

itself around Me—

when

the Sun hides

You fall

& I rise

to meet

You.

Perhaps

the time will come

when the Sun

abandons its

task & We can

again join

in perpetuity,

when You & I,

and nothing else

will reign

supreme—

Our Love,

Eternal Lust,

Chaos.