Inside These Fortress Walls

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If I could get enough of a running start
I would leap above these walls (you’ve erected)
catapult myself straight into your heart.
I would join you inside your fortress
and never look back

I would dodge every cannon ball
each and every archer’s arrow
I would fight an entire army
I would slay every pharaoh

I would spread my wings and fly
clear this serpent-filled moat (you’ve constructed)
glide through your lantern-lit window
and land softly upon your chamber floor,
I would gather you gently
behind this closed fortress door.

I would humbly kneel before you
hold out my  scimitar sword..
~
you can run it right through me
without a single word.

But as stillness embraces this darkest of night
I beg you to witness this weary phoenix’s flight
With tattered wings
I risked all for your heart,
I saw the end of this journey
before I saw the start.

If you would allow me to stay
and give me a chance
this is the last play
my very last dance
What it comes down to in the end
is what’s right and what’s true –
In the end its just me
and its you.

Between a Sigh and a Scream

kiss4She was holding on to a man broken
every gesture made, every word spoken
was a desperate cry from a place so deep
that he can only reach it far in his sleep

she holds him together so the pieces don’t fly away
keeping her balance as he kneels to pray
sometimes he sees her, sometimes he doesn’t
sometimes he lives in his past, sometimes his present

she implored, she beseeched
she tried action, she tried speech
if you cannot love me, let me know
if you will not love me, let me go’

But he holds on, as if holding on for dear life
as if he is drowning and every stroke is in strife
as if she is the only thing keeping him afloat
as if she was every single word he ever wrote

and his eye remains to the shore –
someplace clear but far
it seems within reach yet
more distant than a star

katanamore and more it appears an exercise in futility
finally admitting it is beyond her ability
she drops to her knees, eyes up to the Master
trying to prevent her heart’s impending disaster

the weight is so heavy, so hard to bear
hope only comes in the form of a prayer
with hardship comes ease, promises the Beloved
but try as she might, she cannot rise above it

despairingly close to losing all hope, she implored
her tender hands bleeding from the double-edged sword
would letting go bring relief or a tortuous void?
would her heart remember the previously enjoyed?

~ epilogue:

Then one quiet night upon an angel’s wing
she heard a voice that only an angel can bring
somewhere between a sigh and a scream
somewhere within  a half-awakened dream

She watched him float above the ocean waves
his  feathered wings skimming the waters surface
catching rays of sunlight into pristine prisms
a radiant reflection of blue-green and turquoise

From the edge of clouds,  he finally spoke
and his words became a poem
singing sweetly behind smiling eyes
gracefully gliding over the ocean foam

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I Used To Dream In You

used to dream

I used to dream in you,
swim in the sweetness dripping from your lips,
drown in its foaming effervescence.
Your heart was an open ocean in which I could drift,
cradled and fearless.
seeking adventure;
a voyager hungry for new discoveries.
Your open soul was as expansive as universes
holding all the stars and suns and milky ways and moons.. and constellations.

Your words fell as gentle as falling snow
and melted deep into the crevices
and recesses of my mind,
a light that found every corner of darkness
and illuminated it,
stretching it beyond any capacity it had ever known.

used to dreamI used to dream of you
of your giving spirit,
before it became as barren as the desert floor..
offering only mirages..
teasing like merciless vultures
feeding on the carrion of my desperate heart.

You stole my dreams of you,
a highwayman riding his horse of delusion;
wearing the garb of Lancelot
and the image of Dorian Gray.
You rode in from the sunset
haloed by a crimson dust,
bearing your concealed sword..

.. a sword that pierced the dreams of you,
pierced the golden sun to its core;
its light dimming and fading until it was no more.
and the air was filled with a gray, hot wind;
an inferno bearing through,
and carrying the putrid scent of confusion.

I used to dream.

 

 

Verbal Death

death

Does he not realize
That he dies in front of my eyes
Every time he lies..?

He may as well wield a knife
And take his own life

For it is not the sword
But the deceitful word

That cuts the jugular and the femoral
in preparation for his funeral..

It is a permanent stain
His apology is in vain

For there is no return from verbal death
After he’s uttered his last lying breath.