The Moon Story

Last night stretched on. I enjoyed the company of friends and sang a song for a small crowd all the while sourly anticipating the inevitable and heartbreaking meeting at nights end. As it would be, it was an emotional event that left me utterly confused and slightly miserable yet once again content and no longer empty. It is in this contentment I find stagnation, it is within the happiness that I seem to find lack of purpose or growth. Some things, though they once grew, do not grow forever.

So it was when I finally staggered into the house and locked the door that I wandered into the kitchen and began the process again. I threw back shots between sobs and it was there that I sank to the disgusting floor of a community household and lost it.

As they will, the sobs eventually subsided into a numb line that hummed steady. It was just before midnight and I was ravished. I cooked a full meal , sloppily , that I didn't taste. I wandered to my room and tried to watch something mindless on the screen. I passed out then and woke a couple hours later, not wanting  to get up, yet realizing the lack of grace. An empty bowl on my bed, lights on, my dress riding up. An ugly scene to say the least and not one I care to repeat.

My mind was spilling over with thoughts all racing each other as I cleaned up a bit and made myself decent for bed. I lay there in the dark and needed water. Which conveniently was in my car. So I turned the light back on and fetched water. I wasn't falling to sleep. I kept thinking  , my mind working so hard, how would I make this decision? So I turned the light back on and grabbed homeopathic sleep aid tabs and took one. Again , to no avail, not even after a third. So I sifted on the computer and found some reasonable advice on my situation along with some fitting and needed quotes from Khalil Gibran. I wrote upon a sheet of paper and paired it with a gift in a small bag that I tucked into my purse.

At this point we were well into the 4 am hour and I could hear the morning hum beginning, I could smell it wafting through my window. My eyes were wide open, my mind still active. This had been the pattern for at least a week now. But I did have this sensation of something solid. It was the realization that I was seeking growth, not happiness. I found comfort in the thought  that what is meant to be will find its way. Still, there is never a true remedy for a broken heart. And in those rare circumstances, it is worse to do the breaking than to be broken.

So, back on with the light and on with the running clothes. I was hesitant at first, but I put the music in the ears and headed out the door solo. I was going to run up the mesa. My legs went and did not stop. Chris Isaak began the journey  , and then something strange happened.

As soon as my feet hit the trailhead, Dark Side Of The Moon started. I thought it perfect. This would be my soundtrack. But how right I was I soon realized. With every turn and every emotion, every thought and step, the music was narrating my existence in that time and place. Part of me might argue that that is simply the making of good music, that it might find a way to fit every situation. But as I passed the blue flowers and the single white one, as I ran through the mud and the dry cracked dirt, as I climbed the small rock wall and headed to the mesa all glowing with the sun, I felt this was more than coincidence. I considered I was , in this time , the product of something written. Every word was speaking my surroundings , and the music my inner most frequency. Now , not to be mistaken, I am always quite taken with music. This experience was something much more incredible.

So as my feet hit the landing of the stairway to the mesa, there began, in perfect synchronization , Great Gig in the Sky. And as I stood atop that giant rock and the rising sun shown in all its beautiful glory, I basked in the epic-ness of the moment complete with its soundtrack. And as two small jet planes passed overhead, waving my attention from the beauty of nature, there began Money.

Back down the hill I went, all the while listening to the words echoing. Talking to me, even telling me "down, and out" as I descended , speaking of what lies in the grass and of my own insanity which inevitably made me giggle.

So as I came to the road once again, I felt I could go forever in this state of physical and mental elation. I wished I could sustain this. As the house neared I checked the time left on the soundtrack and realized there that I was twenty seconds from the end. I sprinted the last block and as the journey ended I once again laughed to myself. I stretched, grabbed my computer, and here I sit writing this. Perhaps this is one of those pieces you re-read and in hindsight understand you were delirious from sleepless night upon sleepless night. But regardless, the energy was solid and while I have an extremely trying time in front of me accompanied by such big decisions, I feel lighter than I had. I feel progress has been made, an understanding.

 I should attempt sleep. At least for a few hours, so that when I enter the studio today I can remember a few words.

The morning is lovely, perfectly chilly, moist and alive. Wish me luck.

Summer & Space

Summer is the only time I truly feel alive. Here in the night I sit, under the vast sky,  remembering it all.

Dreams are difficult to separate from reality, though I wonder if either exist.

I've seen this garden before, this place means something good. This I know. But here in the darkness, I lose myself. I forget my skin, and I ask the most difficult questions. I tell you over and over again I am sorry. And I am, I wish I could cry for you. I wish I could bleed for you, I wish I could take it all away. I wish I could lie. 

There are those, still standing, who wander the darkness. So shallow are the bowls in which their hearts rest. They always have an intention hidden from their tongue. 

In these hours I just need the sky , and the stars. I won't admit I need you. I cannot. 

I remember the summer not too long ago, though it feels like lifetimes. I remember the warm nights, there in your arms yet a million miles away. I smell the sweet smell of it, as if the memories are on the breeze. The innocence of ignorance. Of a small square of Earth providing the waking moment. 

I have learned to find comfort from the torment, that of being alone. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to stand, to face anything at all. Sometimes I wonder if I will survive the echo of my own thoughts. Always I wonder why.

-

So I held out my hand to you, on the platform, against the vast backdrop of space in all its glory. All the signs were posted, flashing bright, lined with lights. They read "warning" "caution" "Proceed At Your Own Risk" . But as I held my hand there, as I smiled and the breeze of the heavens stroked my hair, as I looked into your eyes, all the signs disappeared. You were blinded. The great stars and galaxies there behind me so enticing. Floating there, suspended in your grace. 

And so forward you stepped. You reached for my hand, eyes locked. I smiled so widely then, let my fingers stretch. And then you took hold. 

Everything spiraled , the platform left and we were the swirl of the milkyway. We were running upon great runways of stardust, laughing and dancing, spinning round and round. All the glory , all the color, ours to tread upon. 

And there in the center, upon a bed of a million stars, we made love with our souls. The galaxies glowed, and sang us music. We tasted the center , we felt it, we understood it. We walked the streets of space, and I showed you worlds you had never before fathomed. I took you so far beyond the reach of any comprehension, until the darkness grew and the stars became less. Until the galaxies began to run out and the dust disappeared. 

And as your step slowed, and the silence crept upon you, you saw you were alone. There on the edge of blackness , so far from the platform, no sight of the center. You called my name and it rang through the matter, dimmed the light. You began to stumble, began to fear, choked by the blackness. No one there to help you. Where was the platform? Where was the way from which you had come? The darkness before you was for drowning. And when I appeared to you I told you I was sorry. But it was only the stardust, and when you reached for my hand the dust scattered, as did I. As you fell to your knees, there was a bell so far in the distance. You knew it was so far off, so very far off, but you rose to your feet. You crawled through the empty space, away from the galaxies. So very far away. 

Nowhere

It kills me though it makes me live.
Could you be true, after all of this ?
How, with a song, could you make me love you again?
And is it love? Or is it something else entirely?

You can be so beautiful, once you wipe away the blood.
Just lift the shades from your eyes,
A million miles away.
Never dull,
I'll give you that.

And something is moving beneath
Water under the boat
Keeping it afloat
And tossing it to death
Like a toy in the street.
But the echoes in your voice
Rang out so emerald green
Did I ever have a choice?
In the epic beauty of the creases
Made on your notes
Riding passenger
In the fairy tale boat
That found stardust in death
And love in pain.

That's where we grieve now
Where once again we find just how
The silence is always so loud
And the sting pushes me there
Into your arms and your touch
How can you stay so calm ?
When I hate you so much?

You know its the closest to love
You can come.

And it is so beautiful, Baby love,
My honey, dripping down and sticking
Holding on sweetly.
Your angel was the assassin
The sky held the devil
He watched us dancing
With the dying honey bee
And the sidewalk saw
Like your heart does.
But I lied to you
And you know it's true
Darling running through tar
Speaking like molasses
Running down my back
Driving in , and slithering within.

Move that skin across the strings
Train heaving it
Moving through and framing him
But you are all your own
And blossom late you did
Rotting on yellow foam
Blindly heading home
Instinct run through veins of steel
Gone black and slimy but electric as the eel
Do you remember how to feel?

The gaps and holes left broken open
These burning fireflies of lost hope
But the drama hung you with a twine rope
That sliced you down to the very bottom
Of the love you wished for
The very end of the heart you bore
And here in this darkening hour
I find once again the words
Come again the herds

Of prophecy and lies
Of hope and demise
Of triumph and cries
Of superficial prices
And empty, unmarked dices.

So swim round and round
This little dish
I'll love you then and make my wish
For you to walk on those two legs
For you to kneel there and beg

But in the kindness of humanity
The bliss of rancid sanity
I'll save you then where your eyes turn black
And the sun goes red

Free the breath in your lungs so that your veins
Might return to their natural state
To love and to hate
And you can walk among us
As the man you told them you were
And what did you leave on my door?

Honey, there is always more.
More and more and more and more
And and and and
More.
Rain
Flame
And
And
Walk me down your picture frame
Emerge from shame
Into fame
Baby say my name
Baby say my name
Yours to be said
Mine to be fed
Lie in my bed
Just say it then,
Say your name .

Night Torment

I came to you once again. It was sometime late evening. The breeze was soft and dry, I could feel my hair gently moving around my face. I felt naked, just legs to move me and a body grown slight. The desert was eerie at night, all the red gone dark. I walked until I knew, until I sensed you. I could not see you, but in the light of the moon there were shadows. They were all yours, as everything is.

Then you were right there, behind me, your fiery breath making my skin scream. I was not afraid. I felt you touch your fingertips to my back, trace them down my skin. I wanted to moan, to bite something, but I kept to a restrained shiver. I would know no man like I knew you. You would always be there, watching, laughing silently.

I had told myself something different. But you climbed your latter and I fell into your arms. We had met at the divide, Earth. We met there now, always. There was something too painful to speak about that lurked within this quiet agreement. Forever doesn't exist. And time is cruel.

"Why do you taunt them like you do?" I whispered.

You waited until I nearly believed you would not answer.

"For the infinite amount of minutes my flesh has burned in the flames, there is nothing that torments me more than watching them feast upon you."

It was the weakest statement you had ever made. It brought silver tears into my eyes. I turned to you then, in the moonlight I could just make out your dark features, eyes cast down. I cradled your face in my hands and kissed you with my soul. Your lips burned mine. Beyond the hurt was lust, lust that ran so much deeper than the figure.

Heavy

There is the touch of those familiar hands, resting heavy on my shoulders.
There is the aftertaste of bitterness in the sweet, glutinous, fork fulls.
There is the sickness beneath the makeup, the poison working its way out the pores.
Tell me, have you been sweating lies all your life? Or were you once honest? Was your heart once pure?
I ask myself these things in vain. I check my rear-view too often, I know.
But always, I expect to see him there, watching me from the middle seat.
His bright blue eyes dripping down like petals melting from the sky.

Did Hell break free from her prison? Did she gnaw at the steel
Until her heart was concealed? Until her gums disappeared, parading down her throat
Dissolving in her stomach, rotting next to the hearts of men.
And as she walked from her cell, into the sun, was she then restored?
Was she again young? Did her hair cascade, those wrinkles fade?
Did she know what she was?

Those hands are heavy on my shoulders, so familiar they are.
And would it not feel so if Heaven graced Hell with touch?
Tell me then, would hell not feel the pain of righteousness?
Would it not be so?
And tell me, could it not be so that Heaven ran his fingertips
Over Hell's lips.
That all was betrayed
And that when Hell gave birth,
To a child of Earth,
From the seven seas came
One.
That Yin and Yang was born in the unity of just One.

Who are they to frown upon the Mother?
Then who is she to teach with fire?
To bathe the One in incest and perversion
As it was bathed in love.
Though to what lengths would they carry that blazed basket,
Just so that it would know the secret.
Who were they to strip Hell of her rights?
Afterall, she was only reaction.
The tame did not know such pleasure,
They did not frazzle their wits as the kettle burned their bits
And tried the lungs of the weak.

And these thoughts, these claws, are digging into my shoulders,
Just above the heart. Thoughts that become choice.
Stroking my neck with its tongue,
A sickening pleasure, bringing me to depths, shattering all I believed was understood.
"Call me by my name" I whisper. "Call me by my True name."
"You have many," He replies, purring, thrusting.

In the end
At the beginning
Standing on the edge,
Bathing in misery like snakes bathing in the light of the sun.
And we give misery this cursed, wretched name.
We mark all that is forbidden Evil,
We mark the sickness wrong ,
We judge, label, hypocrites to the deepest depths.
But without, we would forever be caught between the minutes,
Never moving, never rising, never growing or advancing
Never learning or understanding or feeling.
We would be absent of compassion.

Does peace exist?
What is the value in peace? What is the value in war?
What is the value in life? In living, in suffering, in loving
In being hurt, in being broken, in falling down so far that you've forgotten the smell of existence?
Holding onto roots of trees the men will cut down.

His claws dig deeper, he licks my skin raw.
A collection of masterpiece laid out for spewing art
Of birth , blood, death .
"It is too heavy" I say. "I will be crushed."
"But your child will be strong" he replies.
He begins to eat my flesh, just small bits at first.
The child is waiting, there in my body.
"What have I done?" I whisper.

A Ride

 A ride of the scariest sort. I said to myself , "sometimes these strongest moments become your weakest". You know it's true.  I got so flipped up side right and inverted , outverted and spun. I hadn't a clue what it meant in the end. The sky was not even a floor , but the pillow. And what was a pillow afterall? I lost all reason and understanding. I became lost in the multiplicity, in the endless possibility. 

I shook hands with my inner voice and said "thank you very much" . Then I turned on my heel and jumped on a shabby subway train painted gold. She stood there, screaming. But no sound would come forth. I did finally come home. I spotted her dirty and torn up on a bench. Her eyes puffy from crying. I could barely recognize her. First I demanded, screamed, choked her. She didn't make a sound, didn't look me in the eye. I proceeded to pick her up, and carry her from the station.

The road outside was empty. We were in a desert and the sky told us it was night. She slumped against me , hardly present. I realized then she was dying. We needed to leave, she needed replenishment, she needed to heal. Abuse. And I was the abuser. The demon gone healing the angel for the demon , in its torment, needed the angel. And in her death would ultimately be the death of evil. For one is nothing without the other. Her breath was sweet even bleeding onto the road. A train came, it had no railroad, no destination. But when it stopped in front of us, she nodded ever so slightly. I nearly missed it.

We sat on a cold seat, black windows lining us. There was no driver. But the inside was honest, and that was enough. I sang to her, softly. It was empty but the frequency held life , and in that she could close her  eyes without fear.

The nighttime lasted four and a half lives. I was a middle-aged woman in the fifth life when the sun finally came. The windows of the train lightened their tint every so slightly, her breath drew steadier. Her head on my shoulder , her hair flat from my hand gently petting it. Her eyes flew open, and she sat upright. The train came to an abrupt stop and we stepped out into the blinding sun. We were in another desert. But this time there was the faint smell of water. We felt it. She knelt her head as the train sped off and took off her shirt. Her back began to bend, small trails of blood ran down it. Then came her wings , with a span of many men. She turned to me, kissed my forehead, then left. I so stiffly stood  , so silently thought, as just a small bit of water ran down my cheeks. And then the voice came from behind, as it always did. I turned to face him, in his absurd beauty that was so very seductive. He usually smiled like this.

I fidgeted. She would be back soon , I knew she had meant for me to stay put. But always, in her absence, he came. He smelled so sweet, his hair was so perfectly placed. He was tall, his eyes smoldered. I began to laugh. Somewhere a melody carried on the breeze. He held out his hand "one dance?"

I would shift here, uncomfortably , as I always did. Low down I would burn. Yet always I stood without response. I looked both ways, the road was made of desert, a few trees lined the sides. There was an old building. There were things I hadn't noticed. The shadows cast by the tangle of branches held predators, slaves. They watched. Sometimes they made small noises, when I listened very hard I noticed. He shushed them. His eyes were beyond kindness or hatred. They were fascination.

Then , from the right, came another. He was plain. He startled me, he came at me. He didn't smile, his eyes swam. I couldn't understand him as he began to circle. He maintained eye contact, circling and circling, making me so dizzy. I looked away, rubbing at my temples, sweat ran down my back. The sun was hot. Where had He gone ? Through this second, circling me, I could not find him. This second spoke things, claimed things. He was aggressive but in his pocket was a potion. Where had my She gone ? The train? What was I doing in this desert? What lifetime had we come to?

I soaked my clothes until I had no moisture to sweat. Still he circled me, though no longer did I care, no longer did I notice. I was dying. My skin caught fire, and I watched myself turn to ashes. I saw the ashes turn to dust. Saw the wind carry the dust, saw the dust spin and meet with other dust. I saw it without ego or judgement or pain. But as I went to fly on, there was a great divide. I felt the seat beneath me, cold and hard. The windows dark , the absence of the driver. I was on that train again, I was in the sixth lifetime. My skin was fresh , I was younger, but I carried the lives on a chain about my neck.

The desert that smelled of the ocean appeared outside. The angel was not visible, but she was not gone. She was back inside. Back above, beneath, in front, and then from behind came His voice. He smiled as he always did. He held out his hand "one dance? " I stood. I felt the burn in the lowest point. I smelled him. Then from my right came the other, the plain one. But I did not look away from Him. He smiled wider, drew his fangs to the plain one and colored the sand with his blood. They whispered in the shadows, he silenced them. A piece of his hair had gone stray, just a small piece. There it was. No one fooled. He held out his hand once again.

"Just one" he purred.

My fingers twitched. She had intended for me to wait there, I knew.

The Madness

 What have you done to me, in these final moments? You have both destroyed me and pushed your breath into my lungs. I never wanted it, the dust is dirty, it is dark. Yet now, as I run for my life through the blackness, I fear the darkness ahead is so much bigger. I fear the dull.

I had to make this choice. I had to decide, I had to decide for the good of all. The lesser of two evils. How does one know? What is it that we can trust really? To tell Heaven from Hell, is it possible to do ? And in the end, which is which? What marks heaven holy and hell evil?

I have gone mad. With you I have tasted liquid insanity. Sometimes I couldn't help but crave it, that sickeningly sweet, exotic taste. But as a tablespoon of butter spread upon the warmed bread is so delightful, to eat lard by the spoonful will drop you to the floor.

 I stayed upon my knees, looking straight ahead for sometime. I didn't dare look down, nor did I gaze up. I did not blink, I barely breathed. I did not speak, I did not feel or love or face anything but my reflection.

When I finally did speak, my voice was not my own. It was separate from this thing within. Its claws purring at my spine, worming under my skin. No holy mark to cast it out , or blue bird to sing the lullaby.

It hurts now. It is so heavy. What do I do? Where do I go? There is a certain sadness I have felt before, scars still stretch. I remember this , how did I climb so high, to fall with the landslide ? To fall back to the base?

The fire rises, as the wave comes crashing down. And I watch you all disappear, I myself am lost into oblivion. And there are no words I can comfort my children with. There is no loving touch I can offer, with these limbs so dismembered. I sunk, we all sunk. I had once seen brighter moments. I still hope. I still crave, though I have forgotten the feeling. But something still believes. That is my humanity. Shall it burn out, shall it run dry, I will be cold. I will have lost all trace of it. And that is when we know.