Another
Pretty Sunrise
(1997)
Daisy Chain
Imagine a flower
in a vase
a rose.
No, not a rose
that is too intense,
too complex.
A daisy.
Yes, a daisy.
Perfect pure simplicity.
Day after day
fascinated by the bloom
but unable to stop plucking the petals
he loves me
he loves me not
she loves me
she loves me not.
Soon
just the yellow center remains
fascinating
yet frustrating.
Infuriating.
It is ripped from the vase
crushed underfoot
and tossed aside.
Imagine a flower
in a vase
a rose.
(tac 1/16/97)
Further
Damned
Placid moist greenness, dripping with anticipation
Suffer the children, she thinks
pungent tendrils of moss brushing the face of the
innocent as he approaches.
yes, it is time for him to come
unto me
The darkness so thick as to make breathing difficult
virgin power tainting generations
to come leading them
heightened by the mounting tension of impending emotions.
toward the forest of innocence so
much time gone by
Three souls tortured by the world
and yet the artist remains as she
left him
converging independently upon the whirling vortex
of destruction.
two in one in two seen no differently,
yet very different.
Wandering artist, suffering artist
Enchanted artist, tempted artist
One reaches through the flames
Unscarred, he steps through the
flames surrounding them.
illusionary flesh melting, reforming, never ceasing..
Enjoying him, yes.
A beckoning hand drawing out the soul of the immortal
Embracing him, yes.
squeezing firmly, the life juice running out in rivulets
Rejoicing with him, yes.
creating acrid steam, dripping endlessly onto the
fertile loam.
Despising him, yes.
Screams of ecstasy escaping the lips of one
Subtle dreams swirl in the multi-hued
mist
moans of grief, of passion, of despair
freely running tears of grief, of
passion, of despair
reveling in the decadent fantasies.
understood by all, admitted by none.
Another reaches for the writhing soul
One reaches out, brushes his cheek
with alabaster hand
nails slipping razor-like under the crimson flesh
lulling him with the chill
caressing gently with words, kisses, and darkness.
willing her to him with power unchallenged.
Deluded artist, anguished artist
Paralyzed artist, fevered artist.
Gazing with passion, intent upon the struggle.
Gingerly, he steps toward the one,
hypnotized by the lust for power
Lightening flashes as the two collide
forgetting the other, but knowing
she is there
drawing into the midst of forces unknown.
her strength increasing
Ethereal hands clasped in violent passion
her sighs echoing in the night as
a north wind
praying for victory for one, for both.
too entranced to see her cast her
glance earthward.
Deafening cries as they begin to merge
Her stark silence startled him
the flames mutating them into one.
terrified her as they became one
Shining naked flesh pressed together
became three seething in ecstasy
arms, legs dangling, countenances glistening.
became two writhing in mirth
Clouds gathering, forming into faces
became one singing alone
as ages past prepare to witness the onslaught.
dancing to an unheard song.
Terrified artist, mesmerized artist
Frenzied artist, frenzied artist.
Frantic gyrations of powerful wills
Hands around her throat as he tried
to silence her
elemental evil of good creations.
shrieks and gyrations meant to destroy
them
Frantic gyrations of powerful wills
how strong and bold he had grown
elemental goodness of evil creations.
how foolish, how carefree
The multi-hued circle of flames raging heavenward.
how intent upon his self destruction.
Rising above the vortex one body two bodies one body
No mere spectator in this sport
watching the she-beasts ascend
a key player in the game
Heading for the heavens in a flurry of flesh
a decider of right from wrong.
the ultimate victory to be achieved.
Unwilling to be lead, to be the
leader
A single tear falls and daylight explodes
willing daylight to break into the
darkness
the glistening prisms burning the eyes into blindness
to chase away their demons devouring
his soul.
Unscathed artist, creating artist
Wooing artist, growing artist.
Capturing colors on his palette
Casting down his palette in disgust
not meant to be seen by human eyes.
refusing to be victim of their manipulations.
The boiling clouds enshrouding the entities
The canvass falling to the ground
of sandy dust
warm mist falling upon the upturned face of the skeptic
mist gently blending images not
meant to be together
peering through bleary eyes for some salvation from
his dementia.
blurred colors serving only to heighten
the dementia in his soul.
Alone
She was there, he did not
see
He was
her standing veiled
before him
alone with his
reaching out
for him
ragged fears with his
sharing his grief
unfettered emotional cascading unceasing tears
in love
streaming unrestrained torrents from tormented eyes.
Alone
Solitary artist, lonely artist
Saddened artist, dying artist.
Carefully
Labored breaths escaping from parched lips
She sets
cracked with grief, time, distance
aside the canvass
Shaking hands unable to
Shaking hands unable to
hold steadily the
Stop the tears that flow
brushes.
ashamedly from her clear blue eyes.
Silence.
She knew, felt, longed for him
The silence
for the evil that was
to him was
him, was part
more grief than he
of her.
could bear, more anguish than
Silence.
he had known previously, would know.
Grieving artist, transcendental artist
Shattered artist, scattered artist.
Angrily
hands moving of their own volition
she screams
painting the eerie messages of
her pained thoughts
the goddesses sent only
into the thickening mire
to his mangled
that was his evolving soul
soul.
so callused as not to care
It began with a subtle trembling of the
leaves shaking gently their stems
rattling against one another as dry bones
rustled by a caressing wind not
stopping. Working its way into his
body, his mind, his being, stirring his
dementia, feeding the frenzy, fueling
the fire burning in his groin, the air
pungent with pine, turpentine, resin,
ozone. His eyes alight with ether, sparks flying
from his brushstrokes as the quaking progresses
to the tree trunks, the stones.
The churling clouds unnoticed by the puppet
artist, tossed about at will by
the goddesses playing their goddess games,
using him as their pawn, their poppet,
their hidden key to unlocking the wild
torrents of passion swirling within them.
Oblivious to the world around him he paints
as one possessed trying to
douse the flames, the love, the horrors,
the scars raising on his flesh
as his world shakes to pieces, bit by
bit, tumbling molten around him.
The two watch from above, surveying their
handiwork, their death, their only creation.
Silence.
Refusing to be transformed, he screams.
They observed
Mocking that which had ceased
concentrated in silence
to be, no longer
more intense than life
caring about a
darker than death could ever
single entity
be, more stifling than total extinction.
Silence.
Whirling artist, dancing artist.
Rebounding artist, resounding artist.
Stunned
A solitary tear slides down the
they stop
cheek of each pure goddess
watch him grow
mingling into one drop
changing into one who
falling upon their
needs them not, their chosen
chosen.
a deity in his own right.
Alone.
Rejoicing, yet saddened, they look
aside
A single
some moments even goddesses are
teardrop, a single
meant to hide to
drop of artist’s paint
not share with
renewing the world a petal
one another.
at a time, the colors blending.
Alone.
Vibrant artist, sated artist.
Careful artist, prayerful artist.
Deaf
Beseeching his goddesses, his lovers, his
to his
mates in the dance of
pleas of anguish
destruction of recreation of
their hearts breaking in
living life in
tandem as he grows away
isolation.
from living life within their isolation.
Visions of tomorrow danced in the combined mind,
images of
Carefully they retraced their steps
a world so free from restraint, so pure, so devoid
of the bonds which tied them
redealt the hand of fate
together in their struggle for understanding.
praying all the while, but to whom?
To be understood, the greatest dream of them together.
Each blaming the other for the mistake,
but which one?
The greatest scheme of love, of the dance, of their
very souls.
Had they loved too much for mortal
flesh to hold?
Souls aching to belong, to be a part of the whole,
to be one.
Was it the love of gods that made
this mortal bold?
Mystified artist, knowledgeable artist.
Bold-souled artist, old-souled artist.
To be loved by others unlike themselves.
The crafting of one so gentle and
demure
Souls not lost in the mass of genius
So full of life, of creativity so
pure.
untouchable by those not caring enough
Was beauty then the foiler of their
scheme?
not daring enough to reach for something
That unknown facet uncontrollable
even by goddesses
different, something beyond the mundane.
yet tamed by one so fresh?
The rain started gently at first
They had never noticed the rain
before
Sliding in glassy waterfalls along their naked bodies
it made them aware suddenly
Pooling at the feet of those who so insisted on uniqueness
that even as deities they faced
mortality.
So demanded completeness
This beautiful artist
So expected perfection as to consider each drop a
personal rejection
creation of their dreams, culmination
of their power, fulfillment of their fantasies,
Of all that had been learned, had been experienced.
was to be their undoing.
Forlorn artist, freeform artist.
Dashing artist, clashing artist.
Heavier the rains fell, pushing beyond comprehension
With each realization, more sodden
they became
the mutual experience of the vortex. The mixture
of love and hate replaced
the artist growing stronger, the
goddesses staring in disbelief
by a subtle simmering of rage, boiling, brewing.
How could a love so deep mutate
into an anger so vile
A hate too deep to be untrue.
as to be the undoing of nature at
its core
A love too deep to be real.
of right and wrong.
Seeing the destruction in their wake, he looked away
Seething in silent rage at each
other, at him, at the world
Beyond the trees, beyond the glade, beyond the years.
the goddesses, in vain attempt to
redeem
Time and place too devious to be comprehended
placed before him hurdles and darkness
Too gentle to be thus offended, too surreal to be
retained.
tests by which no mortal means could
pass
He willed them away, these goddesses of his torment
and yet, without relief, he conquered
every task
Prayed that they would not see tomorrow, would not
sacrifice him again to their sorrow.
defeating them without giving them
the satisfaction of his knowledge.
Strengthened artist, independent artist.
Cajoling artist, consoling artist
Carefully choosing the softest brush
Observing his every movement,
One whose bristles had never known his harsh frenzies
His sure practiced grip leaving
them no doubts,
One whose handle had not yet been warped by his fevered
grip
They watched as he approached their
state of grace
He painted upon the serene cold marble faces, in
a color so rich as to be only worn by the gods, smiles.
And cried, at last defeated
His own private joke on the heavens.
When felt the tickle of his brush
upon their face.
Oh artist of a thousand dreams
With silent angst the two goddesses
depart
Of demons unseen
no longer needed in this dance of
the heart.
Of mutated schemes
No more to mold this soul, no longer
young
The souls of your goddesses you carry with you
another journey has now this one
begun
In casks of images yet unpainted
another song to sing another day
In graves of pastels yet to be sated.
another artist gone another way.
Gifted artist, precious artist.
Beloved artist, most loved artist.
Treat them with the kindness they deserve
Their sadness will not soften with
the years.
Their cruelty never forgotten, their vileness never
soften.
His love the happiness they seek,
do not deserve.
In their own way, you know, each loves you and means
you no harm.
In their own way, each bids
him fond good-bye
Never looking back as he leaves the murky glade,
he throws back his head,
and sadly fades away
and laughs.
their souls at last
to die.
(tac 3/95)
(tac 5/97)
The Hummingbird
I hear the humming of the wings
imagine the tiny heart fluttering rapid with
fear
The fragile feet perched cautiously as she sings
while slender beak sips nectar clear.
He cling to love's gentle connection
precariously balanced life upon dream
He searches endlessly for resurrection
seeking flowers pure and crystal stream.
So trusting now of offers near
to fear, absurd ,
of hands outstretched from one so dear.
a mockery of nature
not unlike the humming bird.
You drink now in haste
what is so freely given
the purest love
a gift from god
a nectar from the heavens.
(tac 3.97)
Nightbird
Come gentle moon
this night belongs
to warmer winds
with gentler songs.
To other dreamers drenched in tears
while misfit demons coax with fears.
For lovers who know yet cannot see
too lost in illusions too real to be.
Come peaceful children sleep and dream
secure and safe, so calm, serene.
The nightbird knows
he tells in song
'tis not to me
this night belongs.
(tac 3/97)
Package
Deal
You will never understand how I feel when you
want only the best parts of me
I never claimed to be perfect, yet I claimed
to be free.
I will never understand how come you want just
those parts you can grasp and feel
Why you don’t try to find those parts of me that
are real.
You seem to forget it’s a package deal.
On my knees in a pen, fawn cradled dying in my
arms
On a stage, playing songs, safe from care, safe
from harm.
I have tried to explain all those things, still
you don’t hear
You brush it off on distance, say it is because
you are not near
I shake my head knowing all the time it’s the
package deal you fear.
(tac 4/97)
Requiem
I was in college when I got the call.
"Sit down", Dad said, "I have some news."
I remember the quickening of breath
the pounding of my heart.
That he should call was strange enough.
I remember scribbling aimlessly on the envelope
of a power bill
circles... lots of circles... in black pen.
I remember the acrid smell of the old poodle
sleeping restlessly at my feet
cold nose, warm breath on my toes.
I remember the squeaking of the chair
the feel of my hair on my face
the thoughts of distance.
As I listened, an old board game came to mind
a craving for ice cream
for my pink baby blanket
creature comforts
old friends.
Memories of trying to make myself invisible
of fruit-flavored drinks
whispers with cousins
drab green shirts
frantically working to open the fastenings of
scratchy metal screens.
I rubbed my forehead trying to shut out the memories.
Sadly squeezed shut my eyes and cringed as I
said, "No, I will not be coming home".
I felt his anger and disappointment as he chalked
it up to my stubbornness.
I know he probably didn't understand, or didn't
want to.
I'm not even sure that I did.
My last memory
was of a little girl on the lap of an old man.
I understood my father's sadness at his loss
but I could not shed a tear
when Grandpa died.
(tac 3/97)
Stormfront
There are times in the bitter pre-dawn hours
when I hear your song
running through my head
and I don't know what to say
or how to make it better for you
all I know is that
I want to make you stop hurting.
Sometimes, I wish I could just wave a wand
and make it all go away for you
but then
there are those times
when I think that you need, that you deserve,
to go through it alone
and make it better on your own
because maybe that will make it hurt less next
time
somehow.
If I could
I would take you by the shoulders and shake you
screaming, "STOP IT. Look what you are doing
to yourself!"
but then I remember all those days of silence
and know that the risk is too great.
I won't take that chance again
so I say nothing.
The irony of it is that we still end up in silence.
I watch as your frustration bounces you off the
walls
and you become the king of I don't care.
I feel the struggle and know there is nothing
I can do
but watch the clouds boil and the storm brew
as I wait for the sunrise.
(tac 6/97)
Daisy Chain Further
Damned Hummingbird Nightbird
Package Deal Requiem Stormfront
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