Late night illusions

It was child-like, petulant and angry -- the tiny voice that screamed 'No- it's mine! You can't have it!'

Defiance lined and broken upon a verbal whip that had no room for slack and mercy

Tongue tied, gagged, sweating, forced and cohered into knots
It was insincerity mixed with devotion and guilt; a simple fucking release
Addiction and self reliance upon the battered and abused
Release and knowledge to kneel and worship; ignored
'So it's time' he said, and so I came, dog to heel,
Grasping at nothing until nails were raw and bloody- gasps harried and rushed
Promise a burning ember and a silent slice in the shadow
A misunderstanding of the very breath it gave
The bleeding that ejected the raw and unwanted
The coiling serpent on milk and spared less on flesh
Thrashing veils lifted to stare beholden at the grasping golden goddess
With obsidian gazes and kohl lined souls

This this is... art. 

Poetry in motion;
Laid upon vivid tongues and prying fingers
A new form of Pulchritudinous
New metal wrapped inspiration

Creation- Preview.

Eternity stretches beyond forever in the illusion of dust carried on a warm breeze into a wasteland. They say the beginning is nothingness but it's an inadequate version of the complete access of anything; but, what if, someone were to reach out and say that in fact that was not quite true. That there was everything, but instead of spread it was contained in the tiniest of spaces, moving like angry insects buzzing for freedom without ever understanding the desire to reach out and touch something? It could be said the same of human nature sometimes; that grandeur desire that comes from wanting something more without ever genuinely understanding the why.

Though, like the comparative nature of the human it decided to become something more entirely. Only it didn't gently reach the finger through the void to see what may lay on the other side; it ruptured with the force that had held it down so long ago in a violent cacophony that held no sound or grand explosions of elements. It was it's eerie silence that corrupted it's core- that lead its fingers spiraling out far beyond the reaches it should have gone. The subtlety of presences divided that had been so soon before completely united; an awareness not quite previously mentioned because it was a single voice amongst literal millions and had not before even understood singular thinking? Now that silence was deafening; but more so, it was lonely. The first understanding of desire and craving what it had tried so eagerly to escape from.

A moments decision undoing of an uncountable measure of time before.

Bitterly Yours, Jaded.

Take a second

to glance

over your shoulder;

at the passer by

with a smile;

withering slightly around the edges-

and the dust that stirs in your wake

notice for a moment

captured in seconds

stretched along forever

the way the light hits her eyes

and turns them a subtle shade

before you go back to looking

at nothing in particular.

So just breathe;

When you're flying high

and remember how it feels

to have that breeze on your face

and the ground beneath your feet

because it's okay

sometimes,

you know

to come down for a little while

And remember angel;

the taste of earth

before it devours you

~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~

 I haven't written poetry in a long, long, long, long time. I've tried, of course, many times to pick up where I left of and try to just "Let it Flow" as they say. Well truth be told it's not always so easily. I once read a quote where it said that writer's block simply mean's you're not supposed to write. I took it literally at the time but I wonder now if it's something that just had to take it's time in coming to me. Many of my previous works came from dark places of angst and teenage melodrama hormones. Now, I've got adult melodrama hormones! Though, alas, these may be of some consequential use.

Anyways, Welcome to my Blog. Another out there in this massive web of millions. Here though is something a little more personal- a little more *me* and I'm hoping to share it well with you all. It's a bit of a short post, but as you may read it's 2:31am my time and I am going to be exhausted tomorrow.

Much love,
Niveah Stipes