NON-PAGAN POETRY PAGE
INDEX:
Cold Whispers, The Dance of Life, The
Mummy, River, Watermile, Martyred
Night, The Pattern of Leaves
Flakes of ice
Ride on the wind,
A metal vise
Is holding me in.
The sky is black,
My body is blue,
Demons bite into my back,
One of them is you.
I breathe the secret,
Whispers turn into screams,
Immediately I regret
My shameful dreams.
Cold whispers fall from my lips,
My soul becomes air,
My white hand grips
The compassion to care.
Between ice and fire
My soul is steam,
I hide the desire
To release my dreams.
(Summer 1991)
The music plays, a fairy whisper
Under an unfeeling moon, Her light
A steady beacon to call all home to Her
When the dance ends, all will come to rest
The bright maiden, smiling gaily as she enters
With a bounce and twirl, innocent and naïve
And the old woman, her dark sister
Hands folded, with a frown turns one last time
To look upon the dancing couple
And remember with bittersweet melancholy
The emotions of the woman in her prime
The dance is over, it is time to go home
Then, in the center, oblivious to anything
But each other, they dance as one entity
One being, not two, and they are at the focus of the
dance
They are at the peak of life and love, that precious
Moment of rare and fleeting beauty
That will fade and die at the song's end
Couples in love, couples in lust,
Couples having a good time regardless of their partner
Remember, fair children the dance we all live
The seasons we share as the leaves fall
Each one of us will have our dance
One day entering, the next leaving
But perhaps the lesson is not anticipating
What might or will be, nor is it
Regret for what has been and will never be again
But what is now, to live in the moment
Not as mindless hedonists, bent on thrills
But as souls who seize the moment
As life is a series of moments
And feelings that glow in your lover's eyes
Perhaps the dance of life is just the action
Perhaps the real dance is the dance of love
And connecting for even a moment with another soul
And living in that single moment for a lifetime
(July 21, 2001) (inspired by The Dance of
Life by Edvard Munch shown below)
I wrap myself up like a baby
Or a thoughtless gift
And peer madly at the world
With these black eyes
Others look at my exterior
And wonder what is inside
A facade, a stoic relic
Expressive and expressionless
Alive yet quite dead
Trapped in my own skin, yet also free
A silent watcher
Hiding behind my rags
A prisoner, yet I've built this prison
Wrote my own history
All the horrors are from my own
Creative masochism
A disease being quarantined
One tender touch from you
Can you feel my breath of corruption
Hot, moist, and sick with stench
Keep me wrapped within
Never open doors left best closed
A large hidden area
To open would make you shriek
I have all the time in the world to rot
I've already been here a thousand years
(Sept. 1997-Jan. 1998)
I never could get enough of you
The sight of your shimmering body moving in the sun
The long, golden grass at the water's edge
Blows in the wind like the hair of a man
Green-brown depths like eyes
Looking through me like a mirror
And I dip myself into you, neck deep
I can feel the fingers of the river caress me
And little fish nibble at my legs
Ripples on your surface like arms which enclose me
Your current flowing through my hair like breath
I never could get enough of you
I dreamt of you even before I knew of you
Of immersing myself in the river
And feeling cleansed and renewed
I can't stop these emotions like the flow
Of a river which never stops, never ceases
Only carries on as it has for years
A child of fire am I, placated by water
And tamed under its soothing power
I dip my foot in at the water's edge
Unsure of myself, unsure of the plunge
But your hands pull me in
And I drown in your power, purified
Never can I draw a breath the same way
Once I have died in the water of hope
For I come out now, renewed as one
Who never could get enough of you
This fire-breather is now your slave
The water passes in, entering deep
Into my cavities, into my mind
And into my heart, forever changed by joy
(February 11, 2002)
If you look at the demon smile
Mile by mile the water like bile
I crouch and peer at my dead expression
These wolf eyes full of hunger
Of wanting of desire for love
The metallic surface of a heart gone bad
Gone away to her own solitude
Never to return at least not in human form
Wrap up the baby corpse -- me --
And put her in the basket bed
And send her on the watermile
To Avalon or God or Cerberus or Oblivion
It's impossible to tell if this is a stream or the Nile
I crouch and masturbate and hang my head
Over the rippling sleep spawned of nightmares
Of shredded dreams and little ruined girls.
(Sept. 1994-Jan. 1995)
The leaves on the trees look like hanging
men
Smiling like skeletons and rattle like bags
Clouds like intestines hang over a ripe moon
A bald, white face, pure as oatmeal
Once again, I look in the mirror
Once again, the eyes glare back
The night punishes itself, masochistic and somber
Without a thought for the future
Why must I feel this way, not in control
Of who I am or what I can do?
Didn't they tell me I had my own free will?
I sit naked on this rock, petrified
Only an ornament as the night plods on
It screeches like a dying rabbit
The Mother has no plan, only looks on
Never offering a word, only physical comfort
And I can't find my way out of this martyred night
Only further and further in
Dawn will come soon, I tell myself
They tell me as well
The river flows on in the moonlight
It seems to smile at me, like a promise
The grass whispers of joy and limitless potential
(June 24, 2002)
We dreamt together, you and I
The storms outside, yet warm fires within
Like a spring leaf, we had our season
Now gone, only left to memory
I am in love with you, don't you understand?
I can't tell you that, the words choke
In my throat, like silt
To fertilize the delta of silence and solitude
The open creek, a river of clarity
And a rich pattern of leaves
I can see through to the bottom
I can see you through to the other side
You are so beautiful on the surface
But only a veil to the beauty within
I can't say what I feel, stone silent
I can feel the breeze flow through my hair
Gone now is the feel of hands on skin
I look at you, at the pattern of leaves
And know that what begins must also end
Today I dry up and blow away
For the last time with you is gone
Gone without a final swim
And all I'm left with is a sweet memory
Of midnight caresses and morning kisses
And looking up at a sky full of stars
Now I turn to walk away, watching the sunlight
Sparkle on the surface of you
And I watch as the leaves dance and turn on you
As autumn comes, I close my season
And all I can do now, maybe for the rest of my life
Is watch the pattern of leaves
(October 19, 2002)