epic – one more entry left unfinished.

aelita 1 Tied and Tickled Trio

he came to an ocean, his soul in his hand

alone and turned in, to make his last stand

he stood on a rock and yelled to the wind

i don’t know how to live, i only do what i can

the wind screeched in kind, its protest of will

he threw back his head and heaved dry and shrill

the paean carried off on the crests of the waves

and he dove for the rocks and braced for the chill

falling through mist and the damp of the sea

he opened his arms to sound his decree

to a diving gull plunging down for a kill

this is my will and as i will, it will be

passage was offered, but he chose to swim

sodden with guilt, the sage rushes in

again as before, ventured off filled with fear

glistening wet with the thickness of sin

soaked through with blame self-imposed and contained

a great hole in his hand, his innocence stained

murky clay eyes; fragile, torn paper skin

weary with all his past joys abstained

the surface drew near, both clear and dark

a peace filled his chest and he aimed for his mark

there below waits his truth and his reason

guised as a game, an adventure, a lark

the waters of timeless appeal splashed all around

fruition, delight, and rapture profound

he consumed, voracious infant at breast

chaos ensued but he heard just one sound

calliope’s aria, streaming through hadal and brine

his Nemesis, his antithesis, exoneration divine

inverse, though perverse, extends her pale hand

this fruit, suspended from the tip of an ill-fated line

surrogates

blood thins, cords spin, warp

snap by distance. devotion.

by proximity

little brown cat

little brown fuzzy cat

went to her chair and sat

there she hissed and she spat

because she’s pissed at a brat

someone’s scruffed her fur

makes her want to yell ‘GRR’

it ruins the end of her day

and she has plenty to say

she’ll rant and she’ll chide

and she’ll scratch out your eye

if you leave her hanging with no ride home and she’s hungry.

yeah.

for now

you dont say the words

and i just never ask

that make me think of time and life

and how now will be the past

 

i think of porch swings and lemonade

and grandfather clocks, the hours

and children’s clay sculptures on mantles

stargazers, daisies, garden, and flowers

 

for now, old age, just an idea

when hands and faces soften and crease

more hiding places for the treasures of a lifetime

a scattered puzzle, collected piece by piece

 

for now, temperance and patience

where we and our forbidden

for now, wise voice and words

where i and you are given

 

for now, i can only muse

follow the story in my head

i’ll always leave the light on

and i’ll follow where i’m led

respite

wheel keeps spinning, spindle humming

web grows to tangle itself

you hear the hum of a million miles of soul

traversed in an instant, too slow to see

the lode stumbling violently across the streambed

no respite

awaiting mercy from movement

an instant to alight on a moment

and be still

transcendent

perched on hidden peaks

soliloquy

in my mind, square rooms.

in my heart,shallow nicks

corporeal vessel, punctured chambers, bleeding heart dove

cooing on a branch, gentle lamentations

only function is to keep moving, like me

the present is not the future

once and future me

regressing to the core

batting helplessly at an elusive peace

gripping desperately a fragile truth

digging furtively, stingy greedy seeker of self

more depth to stumble into, pool of tears to shrink me down

lost within the hedges of reverie

it slips from my fingers, carrot on a stick

turtle patient, hare reckless