Sacral, Oblation, and Hallow

I hold the sacrificial dirk, a dirge dripping in blood,
it’s clear I keep making choices.

You ever make a mistake while actively knowing it,
and say, “ah fuck it.” ?

Life you showed me,
doing nothing because of sense
But because it struck the senses;
Because it felt good.

You did things this way because you lived out a different chord with different rules and expectations; things that applied to you and only you. To say I understood could only be a man trying with every sinew to convince the other in an argument, with passion that he struggled, and knew what it meant to live from your center.

How presumptuous. How pompous.

I wanted it though, o I wanted to comprehend, I deserved to for all I’d worked towards — to be at one with that mind and give it my nod of approval. But fuck approval. Every entity that seeks it dips into the darkness afraid of its own shadow. And that thing which I wanted, would no longer be desired if it sought to illuminate the dark out of fear for what might be beneath its cover. Go into the dark curious; feel on your hands and knees – claw for discovery, and be beset by hunger no more.

Everything is a sacrifice — What will you wither, what will you grow?

The Creator’s Dilemma

I opened my eyes this morning, and determined there were many ways which I could get out of bed, and even more ways with which I could feed my heart, and spill the colorful soul I’ve got within.

All day, all day, I wanted to be me & write and laugh with the people I dig. Smiling, breathing, and looking up at the sky catching some rays and not catching anything remotely sad. So I grew my hair out and moved in ways that I thought was becoming of joy.

I did my best by waking up at 5 a.m. I’m driving over 150 miles to the city of LA which I dread with excitement – while I work on a large government contract which gives thoroughly unspecific directions ambiguous enough to discuss the teaching practices of vageuries and meditative floor sweeping in a post Pythagorean world. A younger me would have considered this as far off from my true self as possible; most likely using a semicolon much sooner in this caption.

Thus I learned that making the work light, with spirit and jokes, will help to ease life’s rough edges; that someone who comes into your office saying they are all about the money probably isn’t lacking passion – also the importance of sarcasm.

What will I make for you today? 

——————————————————-

So what is this dilemma? You just make and make!

In this moment I lack the capacity to mold each spark into what it deserves to become, and lack the ability to give it the autonomous initiative to complete itself. Months ago today I began to create, and did not have all the moments required to complete each sparking from me. They still exist, but as I am no longer me of that day, they no longer suit my direction. They sit without review, they survive unsatisfied, and lack the train to drive them where they ought to go.

But even fragments of gems are beautiful

Our Body Is Full of Organs

It’s a peculiar thing. So much surrounds us, we take so much in; Still it does not see fruit

I could sit here for hours dissecting and pulling different parts of my viscerals out onto the table. We’d need a bit more counter space for everything. I don’t even remember consuming half this shit. Most of it sprouted up out of necessity. Okay, that’s entirely not true. Less than a quarter is out of necessity, the rest is out of longing. If I’m honest I could probably think back to when that seed started growing.
I haven’t always been the ideal gardener. Flowers shouldn’t be the only thing to result from working in the soil. A balance of stem and space! There are geometries to it! I ignored the weeds, and now I’m going to pay with a lifetime of tired bones. If someone grinds them up after, they would make great nourishment for the roots to start again.

Isn’t that exactly the hopefulness we come into the world seeking? Not many things can accomplish that hunt. An arrow takes a lot of intimacy before you can land it through the pride’s heart. Is it a struggle? Of course, but that kind of death is easier than most.

Our body is full of organs but we always feel so fucking empty

 

Squaring The Circle

Some colors simply go well together.

But some things, people, can’t be blanketed under one or even a few; gradients, we need gradients! So many layers exist, and no amount of coats will cover what persists. To use the word monochromatic to describe either of us would be cowardly, fearful of what it might actually encompass to square the circle in this case.

If you aren’t painting with a full palette, I must ask that you consider what might be lost.

She hasn’t said anything of late but I know how quiet she can be. I see it, but I don’t call it’s name. If I didn’t know her so well, if I didn’t know so intricately the knots in her back; It might all turn me over, and leave me prone.

You want me to be safe, I want burning, dangerously close to the end of my wick; Smoke begins to pick up, fire names my last breath an ember, a ruby in a glass – It sings to me

She wants me to listen when I begin to erupt; Is it because I’m selfish, and a tad poor of hearing? Might I sometimes descend down the chain with a few mighty roars; Or climb up to see with omniscient eyes? Hopefully it’s a ratio of only 3:1. I think she knows it’s the things in my past she still hasn’t brushed the grime from yet.

I want her to be around for as long as men have told lies, so that I can perhaps speak the truth; that never would I have believed something so wonderful before I lived to see enough to prove there is more to life than tragic beauty. I want her to tell me the things there are no answers to, when she finds them of course. Maybe we can agree on some

I already had said goodbye, step by step. I had to. She was going places, and even if I wanted to go with her, I couldn’t; There was no way I could keep up – I’d only be holding her from where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to see.
I told myself I’d never let it get me, I wouldn’t break down and let that shit fuck me up anymore. And I guess I won’t know until years down the road if I was able to keep my integrity.

I woke up wanting to kiss you, but wants are never needs.

Flowers & Ecstasy

I want flowers.
I want them so vivid they look painted
Dark and light, heavy on the colors,
Put em through a gentle wash and dry; Out they come like fresh potpourri
The stuff a shaman might pull out of his bag of mystery.
The kind of beautiful that works as medicine,
a couple doses and we’re young again – Is that youthfulness attainable?
Let’s lay out under the stars and then describe it to each other with strokes on canvas
Can we lay down and I paint you a masterpiece?

Flowers and Ecstasy; You scream!
That magic will be the death of me,
And I can’t quite get into necromancy
Although I am into reinvigoration – Restore your body with some heavy breathing

lay down, lay down, breathe

Quotes for Quenching – 21

Art is long, life is short.—Goethe

Spend a lot of time on the floor of the ocean,
looking for pearls so that I can throw them back in – Did you read that one?

If it can’t be read, then it can’t be wrong.
But how well does that get the message along?
I’m sad, and life believes me.
I’m hungry, and art feeds me.
I’ve taken my time and one glimpse should be convincing.
You start listening to yourself, and you feel invincible.
If the vibes grow distant, maybe you should change position.

Hard to hear on the bottom of the ocean,
At least it’s calm unlike most of the surface.
How much did you swallow before you realized the objective;
To open your eyes and not your mouth
Isn’t that a funny twist on life?
To survive, always be looking out;
To live, look in the place where the eyes don’t step

And to them both, I intend to draw them out to the perfect moment,

I Know I’ve Been A Little Distant – I Put A Field Between Us

If you look up just for a minute you’ll melt the reach away.

I should warn you that it is quite a step more than that. You know how I get when I want things to challenge the conventions a bit. I thought about planting a few rose bushes next to the pumpkins and squash, but they drink so much. You don’t drink enough. Your roots are deep, I know you’ve been looking for this water. Come on I’ve filled up these buckets; This fresh water for your blooming – It’s all for you. Just cross this field. You just have to uproot yourself – Don’t be stuck; The Honey bees are waiting on your blossoms.

I wanted to get you flowers, but they take time to grow.
What I want shouldn’t be a weight around your neck,
I will wait for you to sprout again after the long winter,
I know the roots you’ve built will grow strong and robust.
Continue to bathe in this rain and you will open wide up
Soak in this sunshine and you will again shine bright
I’ll keep the noise down, I won’t rustle around too much

I know the field is dry, but we don’t need to be completely satiated from the start – It’s always much more enticing to be seeking something, to be fine, but able to hold a drink; This world is worth sharing a drink, right? It’s exact, how much I’ve mulled this over, I’ve muddled the berries just enough to get that sweet taste your tongue craves. This is not something they teach you. It is individual to your colors. You’re doing something here that no one else will be able to paint; Heavens, they’ll be jealous of everything if they try to come close to this. You know how that fairy kept you up all night – You just wanted a drink, a clean cut of cool to slide down your throat, and perhaps a drop you didn’t need – To splash from the crevice of your lips upon your décolletage

Shake your limbs;
Loosen the dirt around your roots,
come now you have it in you.
You will birth this forest grove
You will create this planet’s breath.
You will be the one who holds it all together,
You will be your own canopy shelter,
You are the life creator and shaper!
I’ve fallen to my knees on this:
Faith is not my haven,
Yet I can do no more than believe in you.

I should meet you because I’ve got this desire, but I can’t;
You know I can’t; I know I don’t get to make this call.

Not Something We Could Continue To Drink From

So you failed to do the one thing that would allow you two to communicate again in the future?

I want to admit something here. There is no guilt attached to this – I suppose this requires changing the initial stance. To admit something one usually attaches a bit of reluctance. I’m making my statement; I’ve made a lot of choices, and they all keep rushing by as the breeze does. They pass as the breath through your lips, and they are past. A season for nurturing, for growing, for learning, all one in the cycle of becoming – The wonder at this stage is where have I not gone? I’ve long been up in these clouds laying around trying to be down to some type of reality that fits my sense of originality, but the case is strong that you; Yes, you are not reality. The way you use words though are as hard hitting as an upset fist against my walls; Unrelenting… Without pull, I follow through. Place your open palm hungry upon this cage and listen for that faint faith, that sign of the eternal sun… that eased hand will bring you to balance.

I wanna kiss you,
Worthy of my words,
To feel soothed,
Drowned in rhyme,
This river of lines
Flowing, caressing,
Harnessing the power,
Of what beats in these chests
And you are the chalice,
You are the peak,
Of the highest mountain,
The truest of my soul,
The mirror you do hold,
Far more value
Than all the world’s gold
And it is intrinsic, within you,
I want to kiss you,
Beauty in the temple
To go further is natural,
Climbing up, you are such,
That gives me courage,
To press off the demons,
To look them in their eyes
And tell them they’re defeated
I want to kiss you,
Staring into your light
Like eternal sunshine,
Of the spotless mind
You help me live,
Without the fear of sin
Like I’m staring down the sun
Till my eyes, No longer match the sky
I want to kiss you,
Even if it meant I’d lose sight,
For to see your beauty
I do not need my eyes,
No my mind can draw you,
Awe inspiring, in perfect hue,
Yes I do, know that you
Want me to kiss you,
Not at the temple walls,
Nor on its steps or at it’s door,
But within on the altar,
Where we can come to love
So open up, I want to kiss you,
Again like dew says to the morning sun,
Warm me with your rays,
Gently with your touch,
This is magic, this is essence,
This is the spiritual quintessence
Highest of the high,
Melded with the sky,
With time and space,
Waves that make our bodies shake,
I want to kiss you,
Under all the stars,
Before we find the calm,
Looking up and we are gone,
To the farthest reaches,
still in touch, our lips,
They want to proclaim
The greatest bliss,
Yours and mine one ship

You’ve got to step down baby. Do you know what is over that line? Do you know what’s it is like to forget the passing of time? I am not in a position to say anything about what you can handle. I’m just giving fair notice. I’m sure of myself. I can’t be sure of you. I keep myself balanced, I know me; How far I go one way is what I must travel, and if I’ve ever delivered you anything less than that then you need to check your compass – I know what I have weathered. I’d say it’s the altered mind states speaking again, but I haven’t had the good stuff in quite a while. I haven’t enticed venom from the viper’s fangs for what seems to be a mess of days blurred together long enough to place outside short term memory. I’ve been feeling again – We almost never intend the worst case, but I meant it. Now hold your curiosity; You don’t want to imbibe this yet.

I could hold you,
but that would be untrue,
I won’t show you,
What things keep me up
What’s your tune,
I want you to stay fooled
As long as noon,
by then we’re out of bed.
A long line dreaded,
I hear you’ve felt heaven,
In which direction,
Do you see me headed
I took a breath,
And awoke intoxicated,
I’m certain now,
I’ll keep drinking forever

When the well becomes poisoned,
do you keep drinking from the fountain?

To Grow A Home

She’s started to exhale,
and there’s a tiny whisper
of a story that holds hope;
I might be exhumed
from her nightmares.

I meant only to go as far as needed,
and find a grander garden for us to live in.
I didn’t know how to speak this to you
other than,
“Just hold on,
I don’t know a band of horses ready for a funeral.”

My thumbs weren’t quite green,
so I didn’t yet know the nuances of caring for Lilium,
for succulents, for tulips, for lotus flower bombs,
your irises, with all your morning glories, all my cosmos.

Too late a new dawn was drawn
before I learned the secret garden wasn’t something found.
Our roots already knew what I know now.

Dream catchers, this is no requiem,
there is life, let me through.
I’m planting sweet dreams
in hopes they catch her tooth.
This time perennials because I’d like
to spend more seasons knowing you.
-IV