Roads to Here

Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

A Lovers Prayer

Art: Ancient Dream Girl


Allow, give up our hearts

come lover, take us home

Guide we two our mind

bind we two our soul...


Tranquil glowing mist

surround thee dream of flame

Release beneath my kiss

spill forth eternal pain...


Alive inside a hand

curled fist in lustful throw

Denounce the last goodbye

come lover, say hello.


-pia
Unkind and disingenuous


a liar of emotion


someone who could never be open


a mother


who cannot trust.


And who does she think she is?


pitting him against me,


drowing in self pity


straight faced and heavy jawed.


She makes me sick sometimes


with her needless whining,


that only shows up in certain company.


She is such a fraud...


and i hate everything about her


that resembles anything about me.


I expected more


and I shouldn't have


she is only a human being after all


clueless to her own participation


to her own hatred and selfish greed.


She has no idea the levels to which she feels envious


and scorned -


a bitter woman






Soul Art

Painting byLord Fredrick Leighton


How he understands my soul

he could write of me a song

he could sing of me, a ballad

pen verse to linger on...


In the quiet of his kiss

with a fiercely knowing gaze

he could write of me a book

and could read of me for days.


How he captivates my mind

I could paint of him some art

I could hang it on a wall,

where I'd sleep beneath his heart.


A tremendous flowing tide

rush forth the rivers flow

in a sweet unspoken rhyme

he is the artist of my soul.


-kyuuri

Steps


And the day came without fury -


And the day came without flame -


pierce soul of flying arrows


follow the lovers way.


Follow the lonely moan,


and the silent shivered hush


of a heart as sweet as roses
spill forth her melting snow -

sprinkle me your salt


solace me your baby


touch me words renew


wrestle me your courage.


-kyuuri






Sensual Spring Haiku...Inspired by the Erotic



Rope ties unbound flesh
no sympathetic appeasing
May I have more please?




Quintessential kiss.
A visceral reaction
invited by lips



-kyuuri

violet daze



If there is anything to be done in Southern California,

complaining is not it.

Even as I find myself thrust suddenly in to a forced-vacation, of sorts,

I have decided to re-enter the mindset of the lavish,

if only for a short time.

After all, it is only here that one can bask in the glow of a perfect wave,

or unfold in the arms of friends that can only be found in this very moment.

Here, I am dancing through rays of sweetened honey,

the smell of spring spilling over my skin.

Here is where the sun graciously sets before me,

driving me softly,

in to a violet daze.

-kyuuri

Stages

William Mulready, The Seven Ages of Man (1838)


All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts...

William Shakespeare, "As You Like It", Act 2 scene 7

One Night

Art:Tina Blondell


I felt like someone on the outside

looking at myself through a lens,

I looked white

and curly...

sad,

and needy.

People gravitated toward it,

toward me,

my scent of longing.

I wanted to give something,

something to take me away for awhile,

to let me feel human.

Just for one night...

He was a nice guy,

a friend of a friend, thrown at me

in obvious ways.

He would have been good enough,

to forget.

But I couldn't use him,

not even just once.

Instead,

I took a bath,

and dreamt of fish.

-kyuuri

Reckless


I don't want to think,

or act,

or respond

or serve.

I don't want to grieve,

or cry,

or vent...

I don't want to talk,

or listen,

or help

or fight...

I just want to be touched,

and taken away,

for a little while.

I want to forget.

I want to be weightless -

if just for a moment,

I want to succumb

to everything.

To everything -

but these reckless feelings.

-kyuuri

Late Night Haiku

The Reckless Sleeper by René Magritte


Infinite sky glows
by the light of just one moon -
Decision awaits

Butterfly Breathing.
Anxious stretch of imagination
stealing the silence

untouched dreams at bay
hold a body for ransom
Fucking yourself

-kyuuri

Caged



Like a metal shroud to envelope my body

cold, black walls to warm my bones;

Here is where surrender frees,

imprisoned by the gift of allowance.

In this space, which you have granted

there is all I’ve ever needed,

a respite from daily comforts

as a reminder of my true nature.

I have never felt at home,

nor escaped the worried restlessness,

‘til You gave me these four walls,

which lay my mind to rest.



Thank You my Sensei...

-kyuuri

Noiseless Walls


“Noiseless”... “is that a word?” Cara wonders.

It doesn't really matter in the scheme of things, for it is 2am on a Monday and once again she sits crouched, knees to chest, in the hallway of her one bedroom apartment. Her arms stiffly hug both sides of her legs and her head hangs in a slump of defeat.

“I am not a coward!” Cara screams in her mind. “I…am not afraid.” But the soothing words fail to calm her regardless of how intently she wants to believe in them. Instead, she sits paralyzed, waiting for the sun to rise again.

On the left of Cara’s stifling body is a door to the bedroom that she shares with her one year old daughter, Mylie. On the right, there is a wall with a large oval window and a walkway to the other parts of their little home. The two have lived in this “City of Angels” apartment for almost six months now, yet every creak in the wood floor, every wind brushed shutter and every tick of a lonesome clock seem intensely ominous.

It is during these moments, in the early hours of the morning, that Cara feels most alone. She crouches every single night in this hallway, crying softly into herself, and fearing all things that are outside of her control.

Cara never “planned” on being a single mom, but planned or not, the facts remained the same, and at the ripe old age of 21 she found herself completely alone, except for the endless supply of bitter rocks and begrudging stones with which she incoherently used to build herself an elaborate, emotional fortress.

As the years went by, Cara and Mylie remained in their dark little house, silently dredging from one paycheck to the next, just to stay afloat. “Why not stay here?” she said to no one, “there’s nowhere else for us to go anyway.” Looking around at the yellowing walls, she consistently finished her first morning regrets with these powerful words, “this is all there is for us.”

And so it was…

For exactly 17 years and in the exact way Cara had created, the dingy apartment, the shrinking hallway, and the solid walls of a lonely woman’s fortress, were all that these two had ever experienced.

Never, in all of her almost 18 years, had Mylie seen any beauty in the world, and tonight, as she stared at the abrupt goodbye note that her mother had left for her, Mylie had also had given up hope.

With the unexpected departure of her mother, suddenly, everything that Mylie had ever known, every fear laden plan she had ever made, had disappeared, as if it were built on nothing but sand.

Later that morning, by the light of a dawning sun, Mylie's crouched form lay in the hallway, her arms tightly gripping the sides of her legs, her body motionless and paralyzed, and exactly as her mother, the girl was unable to move due to fear of everything that was outside of her control.

Loneliness… Whether one is truly alone or whether they are lonely by simple habit, or choice, loneliness builds the fortress high.

Mylie had just settled in to the crouching position, ready to take on the hallway for the rest of her life, when a light flashed bright in to the corner of her eye. She hesitantly lifted her head up, trying to cover the glare with one of her hands, “Who’s there?” she called out to the night. But when she was finally able to focus the mysterious light was gone.

Mylie stared for a moment in the direction of where it had shone, wondering, “was it mom?” “Was it God?”

She instinctively thought of checking it out, seeing what was out there, but sadly, the emotional fortress that her mother had built was now protectively guarding her in it's lie. Mylie sat in the hallway a few minutes longer and then, by some stroke of luck and strength, she decided to try something that could very well have changed her life forever.

“I am not a coward!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I am NOT afraid!”

As Mylie evoked the magical words, that her mother could not speak out loud, she felt her body begin to shake. At first, there was just a grumble, a slight crack in the foundation, but soon, as she stayed focused on her new mantra, the grumble became a roar, which was the breaking of the walls in an imprisoned mind. With each rumble and roar, and as each stone would fall; Mylie became a little more independent, and just a little more sure of HERSELF.

That night and in to the morning, Mylie broke through the window,and walked straight ahead, in search of the warming light. At first she didn’t see anything magical, no parting waters or turning blood to wine, but once she was able to see clearer, a tiny, glowing ember of light appeared, far off in the distance.

Safe thoughts like, "is this the way to go?" and "will this be a painful road?" ran through her fractured mind. She thought about the risks and the possibility of failure. She thought of fear and of loss and then, as if finally being led by something bigger than herself, Mylie began to think of nothing at all.

Mindless and free, resolved and undefined, she took the steps needed to reach the light.

It has been said that after she boarded the train that day, a tattered goodbye note, tiny shards of oval-shaped glass and a winding trail of stones were all that she left behind.

-kyuuri

Changed

The clock dropped,

the flood gates opened

and everything changed...

My dreams

unknowingly anchored

to false diety

and Un-won battle grounds.


The Dive Revisited

Photo: Ilkarus1974


What great gifts lie in wait for me
in the arms of a bottomless sea
enrapt, I brush the salt from my lips
tasting of possibility

Body still, on the highest landing
where a soul feels the wings of the wind
Mystical, sinuous waves
Provoke my desire to swim

What profound wonders to know
in her belly of earth and of shell
a seductive destination
Hold me captive above her shores

Surmounting resignation
with gaze upon the prize
acquiesce to the enslavement
Surrender to the Dive

-kyuuri

Chariot of One

Artist: Chris Cummings


Quiet

suddenly feels unwelcome.

Traffic and crickets outside my front door (which I keep open tonight)

not loud enough to do the trick,

to have an effect.

I need more noise!

To drown incessant chatter

that drones amid the clamor

of a restless mind...

My restless mind,

as if not controlled by me,

leading the way

to a spike

that never should arrive,

to conversations,

that have no meaning...

I could drown it in a bottle

or some sexy repartee -

maybe throw it to a cause,

an affair that bears no weight.

I could dig up some attention,

or watch a little porn,

or spend a bunch of money,

or find a stranger's arms.

Or...

I could stay the flailing reins,

repair the wheels of damage,

freshen up the carriage,

and water down the horses.

I could ride it to the edge,

each part

could not exist -

without the other's life in whole,

unhindered - mindfulness.

I could set the monkey free

and ride in to the sunset...

so the chariot (and I)

could restore itself,

To Balance.

-kyuuri

Evening Words

Art: Hisashi Otsuka

DEVOTION

Poise

Engage

Annul

Disquiet

Probe

Soar

Reverse

Order

Tussle

Slight

Suppress

Chant

Subsist

Draw

Perennial

Pause


-kyuuri

Descend

Japanese Ghost by Hokusai Katsushika
As if a dream...

You leave me nearing,

that dwelled upon moment,

so exquisite

in it's deliverance,

so perfectly arrived at,

I come there quivering,

shaken,

unable to evade,

or to contend,

with the wonder of experience -

the obscure descending -

Just under the vein,

when I feel the pulsing,

I am overcome.

-kyuuri

Dear Soldier


My Sensei wrote a compelling commentary,If I Could, about the barbaric sacrifices of American Soldiers. It moved me in so many ways. You can read it here.


Wordless Walls


He heard the muffled noises,
a scream from wordless walls
The silent sound of breaking
a man behind a cause.

Refused to close his eyes,
refused to stop the burn,
so he traded in his life
for the walls which spoke no words.

Your truth was carved in tree trunks,
a soul inside of stone,
the memory of a Warrior,
who never made it home.

Beyond the fiery hillsides,
a Soldier's fate was laid,
now he lives inside the walls,
where the words remain engraved.

-kyuuri

Dear Soldier,

I exhaled,

looked inside of your glass
and said,

I want to comfort you...

I inhaled,

and heard your name slip from my lips.

A kiss given to the one who needs,

but needs are subjective.

I should have held my tongue Soldier

and never professed to be something that might heal you.

Velvet fingers tracing the scars of your service,

your battle wounds.

Slicing something open,

deep

humble

vast

something missing -

something you need -

I want to hold you ,

as your body burns in healing,

but sometimes

it’s the good in the girl

who knows when to do the leaving.


-kyuuri

Drops of Rain

William Adolphe Bouguereau


If I’d felt the sand between my toes


If I’d dashed the waves and their rumbled swells


If I’d learned to swim in your sea of pain


Would I then be lithe in your drops of rain?


If you’d hidden words under blades of grass


If you’d given yourself more than half a chance


If you’d tried to beseech your decadent gains


Would you then be lithe in my drops of rain?


Then we’d arc and we’d spiral in bending dance -


We’d know how to laugh in a deafening trance -


We’d bury regret in the purple haze -


And we’d learn to be lithe in our drops of rain.


-kyuuri

somewhere i have never travelled

Art: Ilana Mendolson

EE Cummings wrote:

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands