To The Woman Who Sang To Jolene

With her flaming locks of auburn hair,
Ivory skin, and eyes of emerald green
She’s a temptress.

You, however, have dull black tresses,
Tangled on most days.
Bronze skinned and onyx eyed,
The one you think of as ‘your’ man,
Was never yours.

You do not have magic or myth,
You are normal, sometimes weird.
What does a man do with pleasant
Or courteous, when there
Is no enigma?

Jolene is a fairytale,
Every chapter a poem.
She is enticing as a breeze, with
Promises to lead to distant lands;
She’s mysterious as a veiled palanquin,
And charming like
The skies at dusk.

You’re klutzy, you drop things.
You announce hunger, fear,
And pain.
You plead with her to salvage your love.
And your dresses are boring
You do not know how to seduce…

Jolene glides in-and-out on
Tiny, pitter-patter feet.
Clothes become fables on her skin.
She doesn’t have to beg, she chooses.
When she brings men down to their knees
With a look, nothing more,
They peel off fables to find
Exquisite passion.

Your man was hers
When she was made.
You were allowed to borrow him,
Think, woman,
Has he ever told you
That you’re pretty,
The way he talks about her in his sleep?

You cannot compete with her,
You shouldn’t even exist.

Humility, Focus, Courage, Strength

There is SO much to learn...

Oblivion

In Greek mythology, Lethe was one of the five rivers of Hades. Also known as the Ameles potamos (river of unmindfulness), the Lethe flowed around the cave of Hypnos and through the Underworld, where all those who drank from it experienced complete forgetfulness. The other four rivers were Styx (the river of hate), Akheron (the river of sorrow), Cocytos (the river of lamentation) and Phlegethon (the river of fire).

The shades of the dead were required to drink the waters of the Lethe in order to forget their earthly life. In the Aeneid, Virgil writes that it is only when the dead have had their memories erased by the Lethe that they may be reincarnated.

Come, you shroud called Death,

Let us dine tonight

In my quarters.

Why don’t you bring your bride?

Melancholy, I've heard

Of her many virtues.

I may bring along my wishes,

If I could pick them up.

Once I have had my share

Of the waters of Lethe

And blissful oblivion has set in,

Let us take a walk along

The paths that Acheron traced

Down far into the nether world.

If thou should insist, I shall dip

Into the stories of Phlegethon,

But wilt thou believe my innocence

Even afterward?

When my lamentations mix with

Those of the Cocytus,

Pay heed, for a woman

Of true soul laments but once,

And in her voice, thou too Death,

And thine minions shall find salvation,

As many mortals have.

Our travels will have ended by now,

The stories told,

The waters of Styx will be

Called upon to perform the ablutions.

And when the water has dropped off me,

Oh death, what would you know!

When the water has dropped off me,

The droplets shall become

Wishes again.

In life I hath held on to him,

In you death, I shall he.

Another Blog!

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Screams

I turned here,

There and all around

Built my towers

From molten wax of angels.

Acid rain spurted

From ripped gashes,

As beliefs kept drowning

Into pools of self doubt.

Were you listening then?

When I spun songs

For you, only you.

Or did you, like other strange men

Were letting the phase pass,

So acid could pour again?

Harness my thoughts,

Before ‘Dear Diary’ too

Closes its doors and

There’s only a candle to write…

Gemstone Dreams

When the pale candle flame flickers

Ever so slightly

And the shadows of water shift

To form sapphire landscapes,

Let’s meet in the dark caverns

Of perfumed grapevines.

Tell me then,

About the muse of the unfinished painting

That clings onto your collarbone.

On our way back,

We’ll follow the garnet trails

That you left to lead us back

Did you know, then,

That we’d be lost?

Leave the windows open

And I’ll show you

Through emerald leaves

The dance of the pixies.

If you stay the night

And the morning too,

Then we shall make poetry

Out of amber sunshine.

The skyline becomes a

Shifting mirage.

Black onyx eyes stare dazzled

Over the veil, through

Purple palanquin windows

With amethyst drapes.

As we wander down to the rippling

Foam on the lazy pearl coastline,

Take my hand and feel the surf on your feet

When clandestine pain shall

Leave you, I will love you again,

Even as she watches us.

When it all ends,

When you walk away.

Trails of my rubies, dripping one at a time

Shall faithful

Follow you

Into the agate night,

To the diamond stars…

In the lost town of strange maladies, dawn gardeners grow frosted roses.
Tulips bleed colour into leaf cups of desire.

Have you heard the winds howling back at wolves, naked, rugged?

Wisps of black smoke licked the orange tongues of flames.

Don’t you blame blue for your pain.

Is all this light bleeding for salvation?

Vice-peddler, did you see the green-tongued snake? It was charmed.
Were you too? Or were you faking it?