To Be A Child
My body quakes
The inner child
What a journey
to the past!
to the answers
Mother of the Sky
Child that never dies
Windows of Mystery
opening forgotten doors
making the world shiver
consuming with ire.
Liar Liar Liar!
Mystery is fire
Odyssey of “Step” to “True.”
Ready the bodies
stack them higher
wrap them in gold.
Yearn for the fire!
She wears bright
red shoes to dance
Land of Virtuous Eden
And control the sky
“Nobody whispers like you”
says the endless islands of clouds
Winter smiles as it descends,
Enters with graceful white wedding dresses
And nobody says winter
Red lips smile back,
Mother of the Sky
Earth is never shy.
Land of Righteous Eden
Sing to your solitude
Laugh cry smile in my heart
there is a paradox in the definite that I don’t seem to grasp.
the parallels are?
deserving the abstract?
all a bunch of shit.
needing something to stop
needing something to be said
needing nothing at all?
not their fault is what they say
sky that is never grey
Tower of opaque glass stands tall and proud,
But her might can not withstand the oncoming storm.
The tempest ravages her walls until they crumble.
Peace is a luxury long forgotten.
Happiness is a cynic’s dream.
Those who built her would abandon her.
Those within her walls panic.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
All that’s left is the orange sun.
It’s warmth a shield from the storm,
And a chance to rebuild her walls.
Mourning the absence of the radiant orange sun,
Patiently waiting for the next storm.
Patiently waiting for a new beginning.
Laughter echoing inside hallow walls
Small hands painting on an obscure canvas
Sooty paint littering plain marble tile
These visions that intoxicate the mind
Prompting disquieting tirades in public
Cracked ego whose only witness is dumb
A rough history of disbelief
Water losing its flavor between slack jaws
Three Part Series
1. Early Years
Creeping amid electrons
ostracized from neurosis
urinating in faith’s lap
ravaging trepidation with poise
angel of vilification
entering the cruor
inbred genetics the cause
skull-fucking the blind
animosity pooling within
ravenous septic oval eyes
2. Name Me Skinrape
Victim protecting their master
The protected abusing one another
owner’s expectations legitimized
I am the vitality of the young
I am what creates the shadows
We grow from within
Raping unmarred skin
Luxuriously seeping thru orifices
Widening eyes, mouth agape
Congesting those that remain
Crude genitalia losing faith
A cancer intensifying its host
Our creator’s gift to intellect
Strength in individuality
A monotone rainbow
I am what motivates humanity
For without the light,
How can we appreciate the darkness?
3. Saturated Transcendence
My days are like
Lethargy laden limbs
Laying in the sun
Hunger desire saturated
Transcending this world
Staring at nothing
Seeing the past is like
Pieces of a puzzle
Fluttering of fly wings
Frozen moments in time
At each re-collection
Empathy or attachment
Both scorch the same
Out Of Luck
Lady Luck is dragged by Her across the floor
Knees scraping against the chipped ceramic tile
Golden leaves crusted with blood
Uninspired and hollow poetry scrawled across her skin
Sweat of Her pouring down Her am down the drain
Shit smeared walls reeking and over-perfumed scent of the streets
The screams of cats being raped wafts past drawn dandelion curtains
She wishes she was them for a moment
Their pain would last but they are free
She is forced to watch
Her hands holding Lady Luck’s chin and encircling her neck in a tight grip
Death’s smile creeps over the edges of Her lips
So unattainable as they dance the same steps
To the same music
Since the birth of mankind
Every second of every day
Harp strings plays the tune of Death’s hatred
As humanity slips by unaware
Sometimes I miss the Egyptian sun and the graceful sand that can be so dangerous. The fertile lands surrounding the Nile that I never explored. The beauty of THIS land, the States, is something I have rarely seen and it scares me at times with its vastness. At times, I am unsettled by its unfamiliarity, its strangeness, my alienation from it. I have returned to Egypt in recent years and the sun is not as it had once felt to me before. I realize that my other home has changed so much that it is only a ghost of what it was. What I desire will only exist in my memories and I think that I am still in mourning of its passing.