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.
She only envys the rich not for their designer clothes, private schools, luxiourious trips to secluded beach botanic island hideaways, or doorman apartments
It’s All About The Benjamins Baby
It’s All About The Benjamins Baby!!
But for the power and control they have over their lives, their destinies. Not so much Their ability to make snap decisions to walk away as their option to walk towards new opportunities and fresh uncharted waters with no financial or monetary worries.
Connections and money opening doors where once walls exsisted. No 9-5 for them. No bully bosses. No evil supervisors. Whereas the working class batter bloody fists hopelessly against cement concrete thick brick walls. The working class attempting to climb greased glassed walls. Attempting to ascend through ceilings made of six foot thick plexiglass that cannot be shattered.
She marvels at the ability to choose from a myriad of excellent options. All good. None bad. Always reaping rewards. Never consequences. The Cornecopia is always and forever free flowing for the rich and wealthy.
The Rest of us have been assimilated into the Hive merely for the conveniece and pleasure of the rich and wealthy. Serfs forced into place. Any who try to escape will face adjustment and return to the Status Quo.
I am suspious. Where have I landed? Is there really no escape. Each time I assay the trap holds firmer the noose becomes tighter. Twas my premonition from birth that freedom was only illusion to one who was low caste born. The Village populated by freely elected idiots with a meglomaniac holding the highest office in the Land.
Yet that glimmer of hope within cannot be completely stifled. It trills out sweet melodies calling Her forth to a new land. A new reality. A new dimension.
Once mid-Blink I spotted the Promised Land. Once Forlorn I funnel through swampy muddy bog chambers Seeking Searching for Sunny Sand Surf Elysium.
Black Moses be my Everlasting Redemption. Black Moses ~~ SHE Who Restores Order to Chaos.
My Fellow Baby Boomers will get or at least understand why I chose these two specific popular 1960s British TV Shows. Anyone born between 1946 and 1964 will see the references. Many of the References in the Prisoner allude to the Cold War and Communism but in the 21st Century until the evil wicked mantle of Capitalism its the modern workplce. The Job where you’re nothing but an ID # Number, A badge, a Unit, merely a cog in the wheels of fast moving machinery. Also speaks to the horrors of mental/psychiatric wards where patients are treated like Prisoners. Given pills/drugs and other treatments that do more harm than good.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 