This destiny is dead.

— Chuck Akot

Deconstructing the Watchtower

“There must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief.“

I know all the angles

every possibility for pain

every path to self destruction

I’ve been building

a map for years

updated

with every trauma

annotated

with every failure

and still he

laughs at me

mocking me

for my obsessions

"There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.”

pummeled by

circumstances

struggling

to maintain

balance

each blow

thudding

across my

thoughts

forcing me

to put

my hands

in front of

my face

to shield

the little

normalcy

I have left

“Business men, they drink my wine. Plowmen dig my earth.”

they arrive at 1am

nine pickers

from Modesto

for the next ten hours

they’ll pick

20 tons of grapes

using clippers

they quickly

snip the grapes

and put them

in small plastic

bins on their heads

that evening

an ad executive

sips a glass

of chardonnay

while enjoying

a five star meal

at his favorite

restaurant

“None will level on the line. Nobody offered his word.”

they were cowards

hiding behind

silence and self interest

watching it all burn

never raising a voice

to say it was wrong

piously telling everyone

it was time to move forward

while accountability

lay buried in the ashes

“No reason to get excited, the thief he kindly spoke.”

he operates below

the sight line

and when

encountered

artful

misdirection

is his cloak

with subtle

persuasion

coating every

word he speaks

there is a

calm tonic

in his conversations

that hide the

poisonous nature

of his intent

“There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.”

all the fragments

of myself

gather for

comfort

and

guidance

in that

hidden space

within my soul

too many voices

full of despair

angrily blaming

each other

for wanting

to give up on

this life which

has no meaning

but I do not

listen to them

I light a fire

in my heart

and follow

a different path

“but you and I, we’ve been through that and this is not our fate.”

it isn’t fate

which brings us

together

it is the

fire of change

which burns away

all the lies

we tell ourselves

we are not

broken

we are not

unlovable

it is the forge

which sets us free

“So let us stop talking falsely now, the hour’s getting late.”

we live now in the lies

of our personal illusions

waiting

wanting

thinking

the other will change

time is not our friend

we move forward

with the realization

there is a storm gathering

at the edge of our house of cards

“All along the watchtower, princes kept the view”

they wear no crowns

but my guardians

keep me safe

making sure nothing

gets inside without

intense scrutiny

they see it all

from their elevation

every fear

every failure

every doubt

it is the army

of my enemies

that gathers

out to the horizon

and no matter

how strong

this fortress is

I know a few of them

will find their way inside

“While all the women came and went, barefoot servants too”

it’s safe to say

I loved every

one of them

thinking

it would

never end

but it did

and they

are gone

not even

the unshod

considerations

of their fate

remain

“Well outside in the cold distance, a wildcat did growl”

I hear her cry out

and I answer

with my own pain

reflecting hers

captured by our

wrongdoings

unable to break free

of our failures

we have injured

our souls and

they will not heal

the pain fuels

an anger that is

unstoppable

unavoidable

and even across

great distances

I can her growl

turn to a roar

“Two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl.”

they are

two figures

of serenity

and strength

steady

in their

approach

ignoring

the storm

on the horizon

but I can hear

the wind begin

to howl and

pray they

reach me

before

the storm hits

Day 22: Under The Lights

Jan(us’ Est)uary

One day, one rhyme- Day 2567

There was a Vanilla Villain

Who roamed the Broome coastline.

His nastiness was well known fact,

Although he smelled divine.

His sidekick was named Choc Cocoa,

Nemesis: Healthy Paul,

They would have great bake-off battles

The should both try all.

On Paul’s turn, he tastes the whole lot

Gives praise of high import,

But Vanilla eats only cake,

For he’s not a good sport!

want. The terrible need of it.

Heaviness in the eyes,

Lurch of cavernous stomach.

As a child cries for something

Denied. lack of understanding

There, ah yes, there it is.

-

Circle around again after a

Few moments, in breadth of

A clarity granted by the passage

Of time

-

Let it go as a season goes

Without thinking.

Absentminded as leaves fall

Only for them to grow again

With the return of birds.

It is not for me.

-rb.xyz

i worry that the trauma

i have endured has made me

numb to the point where

i don’t seek for anything

but noise, i continue to

sacrifice myself like it’s the only choice

my pain has brought me great wisdom

but pathetic ways of coping

so i don’t know if i’m honest or

too self-loathing

but i want to feel

way more than what i allow myself to

kira malibu

I haven’t thought of you
in a while now.
I have forgotten the
softness of your name.
The blue-grey of your eyes
in which so many memories swim,
torrential
relentless.
I haven’t been caught adrift in your current,
for it is quiet now.
Without rain, the dry has abraded,
worn down everything to a dull ache.
The sun has baked
salt flats for miles and miles, as far
as the eyes can see and further…
The season of love is gone and soon
everything else too
will go,
leaving the cracks
in my heart
wide and gaping.

© SoulReserve 2020

Time and Tide

I struggle.

I struggle to know that the sea of Now

on which we surf

will surely reach the beach

and melt into foam.

The silt and shells that wash up there

will reassure me

that it happened:

but the water retreats,

beating an inexorable escape into the ocean

and the vast tide

of the infinitely possible.

Sweat Bees

My humect; desiccating

Under the thrum of gentle sweat bees

Wildflowers nodding, apoplexy

Take me away, sweet things, carry me…

Far-flung on the tears my body cries continuously

Sweat it. Forget it.

It’s all synonymous here

Take a line right off my body

White powder hiccups into jolts of electricity

And I wish I knew

What was hip to erase you

_______________________________________

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

Souls were laid bare tonight. Hearts we’re made Fair tonight. Time was torn asunder. We ate the remnants. What more could you ask for from Mortals? Does God expect us to become a god? Live and Let Live. Die and Let Die.

When you shine like the sun

Everyone wants to bask in your light

The darkness inside draws them to you

But be careful

Some people live to steal your sunshine

To keep it all for themselves

When they can’t take it from you

They extinguish it

This heart dances a wild blaze

on moments of

sacred air,

its calming breath of euphoria

washes over me 

as a gentle rain falls softly over the earth

soaking my skin through and through,

and as it fills cracks and crevices

of my soul with wonder,

I ponder the ways

we look for joy

in the emptiest things,

how can we drink from a cup that is 

not full of love that keeps us alive and wonder

why we’re barely breathing?

—M.Rubino January 22, 2021

there is no beautiful way
of telling a story of a duckling who dwells in a garden that doves call home
… or so it seems to me
For I can only helplessly pace through buildings, if not have wings

In this inconceivable garden
I covet every petal I encounter
Whose blessings bestowed outshine my dearest golden hours
If petals can be eaten, say, may I devour?

Hindering my path, there is a dove who paints, and another one who sings
I pray in the dark, oh wing-giver, won’t you give me wings?
… can I not see my own wings?

give me wings +..｡*ﾟfleurellette

57. keep

.

but is it okay if i die in your arms
as the sun sets in the east and the ice turns warm
is it okay if the look on my face
is only a gateway to what fills up my chest
to the winding maze of intricate thoughts and wishes
that you unfold with patience as you walk the bridges
i’ve designed and assembled in all the wrong places
but you’re gentle and kind, all you do is remind
me that truth looks different after a good night of sleep
so i close my eyes knowing it’s you i want to keep.

.

• through-the-motions (poem + photo) • 

Sometimes

Sometimes I feel that I just have to write, and write, and write
Things that are inane
Things that are insane
Things that wash away the pain

Some days I just have to go away, far away, far far away
To find some rest
To find my nest
To find that I am blessed

Sometimes I have to sing, and sing, and sing
To hear my voice
To hear my choice
To hear the angels rejoice

Some days I need to just reach, and reach, and reach
To grasp a hand
To lend a hand
To walk with God and man hand in hand

K. C. Barry

Prophecy (The Raven)

you stared as the dark raven

pierced through the thick,

violet, twilight sky…

yet, my eyes obsessed over what…

possessed them to see

this biblical bird as a prophecy;

the last omen of the curch

of the broken god,

a once mighty, higher power

now fallen, crumbling

tumbled down like castle walls

former majesty,

glorious, no longer

spurned by a material world,

where the heavenly kingdom

of the spiritual world,

long ago disintegrated into pebbles

…sands honed by time

washed ashore on crimson tides

beneath blood-red skies,

abandoned prayers and irreversible lies;

all the signs before our eyes

…so goes the skybound silhouette

of the black-feathered messenger

in disguise, who visits us, then…

once again, fleets and flies

©️ @followcb ☆ January 22, 2021

Sun On Moon

I am, love, you are

sun on moon, shining through

Illuminates truth

amid darkness, stars are proof

frozen in stolen moments

tidal forces of celestial oceans

spiritual, extraterrestrial, immortal

our souls are intertwined

in the foreverness of infinite time

limitless, fathomless, cosmic

your love, unbounded, by mine

©️ @followcb ☆ January 22, 2021

One day, one rhyme- Day 2566

I have a rose thorn in my foot,

It is quite sore, you see.

Evidently I wasn’t meant

To have a thorn in me.

I’d been pegging clothes on the line,

I’d been told to wear shoes-

But grass so soft and sun so mild

Did cause me to refuse.

Alas, someone had been pruning,

And dropped things on the lawn,

Then I came merrily along

And was met by the thorn!

The moral here, as you might guess

Is so clear I can’t doubt:

When someone tells you to wear shoes,

Don’t peg the washing out!

Choral Tapestries

unorthodox realizations

(sighs under breath)

mystical murmurs

embrace my chakras

(stimulate, numb)

claiming surreal vistas

acoustic arrival, melodic survival

words splayed across

a frenetic universe

pull an invisible, silver chord

(imagined tangent point)

recreate, deviate norms

releasing a tangerine aurora

ivory-dawn, fog-blanketed skies

cascading along coastlines

beneath snow globe mountains

imperial icelandic lilies of the valley

northern lights, optic flights

a thousand million nights

of relapse, reoccurrence

recovery of sonic sorcery

infinite arcs form halos

choral tapestries

(majestic angels gleam)

orchestrate lyrical testimonials

restore enchantment

presence of a very calming place

©️ @followcb & @rhapsodyinblue80

January 22, 2021

You should never have to hear the words

“ I love you ”

to know that you are loved…

- Devine Theory