I do not have the luxury you see,
A foreign soul in this ancient continent
to dance my wiles away.
See my worries accompany me as i sip this drink….
The hopes of my parents sidle next to me,
intertwining their aching fingers with mine, drowning all else as i try to loose myself in this dance.
My only escape,
Your mouth on mine…breath on skin…sweet respite.
i do not have the luxury to linger in this sweet place…
For i am burdened by my parents prayers
dragged even to the concrete jungle.
for you see, my respite has no place here,
in this foreign continent i tread on.
I will make of these weary bones,
creaking and fragile to the touch,
sweet melodies from beyond Valhalla.
Music of life shall i make from the embers of Death;
conjuring sweet poetry from these ashes
to sate you.
From these cinders,
will your soul will get its fill.
within these embers,
ambrosia shall burst forth.
At the deafening sounds of doubts,
I beat my chest,
rousing this feeble heart…
speaking Life into it
in hopes that i do not drown in my fallibility
I tell it lovingly,
You have been validated,
with a thousand galaxies,
exploding, imploding within
Birthing new life with each breath
bringing you to this space of beatified worth.
You ripped through space and time
breaking nothingness to bring your very essence to life
why shrivel from the forces that spew fire at you?
Do you not know you are light personified?
I come from a tribe of sex-less women
women who drown in the pools of birth and piety to keep a man
Women who balk at the call of their innate need…
need to feed the goddess that reside within them
I come from this place
where self-indulgence spells harlot
where fucking mocks piety
The piety of bearing a seed in this sin
I come from this place
where pleasure demands immediate cleansing,
to wash this scent of life itself, clean
I exist in this place where my desires reflection stands like a stranger
An affront to my eyes
I have grown accustomed it.
the sumptuousness of this silk
Each intricately strewn thread vibrating on the plains of consciousness
each weave, heavy with pain.
I have made my peace with it. Somehow.
The euphoria stealing its way to my life,
closing its hands upon my heart..
Numbing all else
electrifying the dead thing i insist on having.
I feel the cleansing each tear bring;
underneath the cover of this sumptuousness
this transformative call,
this reciprocity of life residing in death.
So now i wait,
as my wings spout forth from this cleansing
making me whole
Once upon a time,
I carried spring within me;
revival and renewal grew harmoniously in my core,
birthing hope on the daily.
For i housed Gaya.
Now My curse makes its home on my shores,
Making camp, as it tears gleefully into my soul.
For How long will you stay?
For how long will i entertain this guest,
serving tea and sweets to this thing
will i be held captive in this place like the prayer beads hold captive ones blessings?
Is this home?
or will my soul find freedom
taking flight like the birds of the air do?
Am i forever to be courted by this thing,
making a home,
sharing its bed like forlorn lovers?
My mystic will you stay silent?
Will you rob me of respite.
Relieve me of this curse
Here i lay in the bosom of Calamity
suckling at her teat
waiting for her nourishing Ambrosia
to fill this body;
Ready it for the warpath that lays ahead