Where the Koi Jumped for Joy into the sky for the water comes from the sky then returns to the sea
Pistons, electrons, neutrons
By a Picnic Table caught up in sand
Beside a Piano wrapped around a tree
Where I had cracked an egg filled with red ants over his face
Where once I had tried two more times to plant myself on the portico of the place I had lived posthumously
Every day he would come to the drawing room dressed in a new wig and caftan ready to work on his latest illustrated sonata.
His goal ~~ The Chapel where the outline of an over grown cherub with upturned mustaches, a five o’clock shadow, cigar and swollen gonads graced the ceiling
In Her Long Flowing Caftan expectations were high. Higher than ever before
As she crafted her Caftan Swung to and fro in the Breezes
Swirling & Twirling like a dance in Homage to the Muses and Goddesses of Ancient Times
Swaying Sometimes Billowing Out
Billowing Waving Flapping in Upturned Winds
Powered by gusts of frenetic kinetic energy her billowing Caftan swept over the town and villages spitting out flags, Semi-phores, and coded messages to family cemeteries
Leaving behind satisfied scripts which she added to her burgeoning collection
Sending Signals across the Mesa
Then the Joyful Koi began to play Ragtime
They jumped up and struck the keys in sequence creating beautiful melodies
If I had Listened for my Name I would have heard the Sweet Silent Saint Speaking & Calling of Destiny beyond my Brittle Brain. I am a series of abandoned places and misplaced faces turning, churning learning.
If I had Listened for My Name I would have escaped the Family Plot and Indecent Mausoleum that keeps my bones on ice. Dust would not have gathered in splotches and griefs within crevasses of spirit and soul.
If I had Listened For My Name my world would burst forth, setting free oceans of galaxies. Seas of synchronicity.
If I had Listened For My Name I would not have signed away my hopes and dreams into obligations and duties.
I would not be a lost one looking for a home. Sequoias and sand bid me entrance. Forest and Green Hills bid me Welcome.
That voice though unintelligible yet distinct was getting louder and more insistent on being heard.
I a Scavenger of Blues spread stardust seeds from journey seeking the Traveler. An impenetrable Limbo foggy and heavy misty prior to a storm. So difficult that staying afloat feels like drowning. My views are behind a steel cage.
The Storm arrives to clear the air.
Muddled Dreams and Visions receive clarification when passing through hurricanes and tornadoes.
For I am Most Awake When Dreaming.
Life Beyond, Behind and Through Green Cauls
Copious amounts of letters, alphabets, symbols and gibes fell to the floor. Some fell into gestures others were barely held together by periods, adjectives, commas, semi-colons, verbs and apostrophes. Weak chain links that were often smashed into derpish grins.
My Muse sprinkled the fallens with Holy Water and Anointing Oil keeping rigor mortis from settling in. Here and There Muse Traveler plants and picks, prunes and shears. Preparing the landscape.
Mystic + Muse Join Forces with the Traveler Leading the Way Home.
My Name is planted deeply within foraging for nourishment. Perpetuating eternal root systems
Once again I must Pray my Unconscious into Being.
This prose poem inspired by My Ghana SiStar and Sister-Friend Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia
Where the Aliens communicate with you via your headphones, headset or ear buds. That’s not the heating system turning on that’s the spaceships from Mars and Venus landing on Earth.
Calm pebbles on a lonely beach. The precursor to walking out a 10th Floor Window.
Rollicking Rivers have been testaments to many a debauchery.
A Vortex of Sex and Drudgery created by a fracture. A fracture of faith, morals and betrayal.
Soon the curtain will drop on the Clown Prince of Gigolos.
In My past life I must have been a suppressed Pyromaniac for whenever I smell smoke or see sparks and flames I get horny. My only desire is to merge with the intense inferno of whatever nearby flesh.
Fragments of explosives were distributed like Holy Relics
Monocle smeared with rancid body fat
The smell of putrid body odor pushed Convulsions up and out of my Center quickly bringing me to the surface of blessed relief. Flotsam and Jetsam of Orbiting lives coming together then separating
During his ramblings around the canvass stopping as he spied me. His eyes dissecting and classifying me as a new species of insect or bird
No nod of the head but his eyes moved up and down my person as though my body was an ancient scroll or flag being unfurled. We riff and reverberate off each others bones. Licks and Riffs all night long. Conviviality shared. Towels and Cocktails all around.
Stair Steps to a Picturesque Village where horrors never cease. One can hear the groans and moans of the dead and dying. Once a battlefield soaked in blood, guts and gore now a grassy field with heather and lovely weeds. Dandelions blowing in the breeze. The Village. A Beautiful unspoiled happy Village.
As was Declan’s evening habit he went walking in the neighborhood historic cemetery which was located quite close to his home. Silence time. As he walked his thoughts mixed with the crunch of late Autumn leaves and early hoarfrost. So deep in musings was Declan that he was totally unaware of the clicks, ticks, buzzes, snaps and pops that emanated from the trees and foliage. An electrical storm of communications and warnings that went unheeded.
“Just for sport. Just for sport. He muttered under his breath.”
It was her startling blue eyes like orbital sapphires filled with charisma and grace that first got you then like suction drew you within. Spider eyelashes flicked and flutter as she raised a beckoning hand bedecked with moist blood red nail varnish. That wet Lacquered look ala Elvira and Vampira except Rheema had that cornsilk golden spun hair and girl next door looks that threw you off balance contrasting what a Dark Angel should appear.
That Golden hair spun loose a malevolent energy changing Declan’s former awe to complete disgust. Declan watched with mounting fear as the people formerly surrounding him were torn apart into mangled masses of flesh resembling sides of beef or badly butchered pork loins. Her banshee screams and wails caused bodies to explode and implode accompanied by cries of the unfortunate corporeals………………….
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 