Primal Scream Melange



Primal Scream Melange


Primal Scream Melange


Disruptive Dunes flying to and fro

Scattering dust and soot across both sky and land

Red Beryl was a weathered person.  Her face a road map of lines, detours and traffic jams tracing over 9 decades of journey. In her younger days she was a slow slinky rhythmic Fandango dancing men into dusky graves.  A Sepia Voluptuous Beauty with flowing cascading curls just touching the beginning of a well rounded backside.

She was a rollicking river sweeping away numerous suitors and lovers.  Wanton abandonment coupled with Hades ovens gradually over time turned to Holy Water Baptism.  As her flower faded she was at first angry with the code but who can be angry with code you did not program?  Many family, friends and neighbors had gone to the Whispering Shadows.  Others exuded aromas of angst with madness quickly gaining hold.  Losing altitude she quickly realized that the light at the end of the tunnel had been turned off due to non-payment.

Or was it the pursuing Restless Womb syndrome of she who was barren from birth?  Many seeds were deposited but none took root save for a few mud-bound mannequins laid waste to premature graves.  Lamentations by and for all my graces and muses relegated to being communal property for every feudal chieftain and Lord.  Yes the Light at the End of the Tunnel has been extinguished.  The Bright Colors are the Facades we create for ourselves much like the Prisoners Village.  The Prisoner being You.




Tapestries woven upon a drop stitch broken Looms. Writhing Thrusting old bones from towns and villages.  Old ear and nose whiskers, balding craniums energetic like lusty youths waving Turgid Stamens yet failing to pollinate eager expectant eggs.

Clouds, Gems, Jewels and Stones

Red Beryl clad in long free flowing Caftan that swirled breezing about her body’s ebb and flow.  She possessed boundless Galactic spaces inside her head.  She shook her meager cloak releasing rainbow dust, moon beam fibers,  and robust grains.

Having absorbed her twin in utero Red Beryl claimed two separate yet unequal strands of DNA.  She who lived dominates. He who died is subservient.

For she be a Chimera creature housing two different DNAs.  Yet the one thought annihilated and obliterated still contains energy mists seeking a human host.



One for the mind and body the other for the spirit and soul.  Traveling through fields of purple grass, clovers and dens.  Sidestepping towns and villages populated with radio bursts.  Anxious to avoid another century decades of wandering in Limbo she hurried to the place where the Trees Meet at the Sacred Grotto.  Greeting the fog, mist and smoldering embers Red Beryl quickly gained entry to Nomadic dreams and Discourses.

The past lurks around your dark silent corners waiting like a cat patiently ready to pounce on it’s prey.  Your mistakes haunt you for a lifetime.  You become an Effigy of your former self.

Step over the bodies and try not to trip as you leave the cave.



The Hurt Behind the Mask