Soul Tuning Jealousies

singer silhoette 3

🎶 While all my angst gently weeps… 🎶

I must surely have been a singer

in a former life

Feeling so deeply, too deeply, too deeply

the depths of all notes

as they resonate

through my now abject humanity

The voices that surround and draw the listening to their knees

send me reeling into the realm of exquisite pain,

as they transform me with the intensity of their perfection

Imprisoned by aural beauty; bathed in utter envy

by artistry that can only come from the centre of grace

All denied me by the angels

who repeatedly escort

new melodic bliss and torment

through me

My hesitant mewling fills space between infinite wishes & sighs

to join them, if only with the least of their mellifluous gifts…

I will the next life to free me to sing elegance

or leave me to turn into mere star dust

RL

(Only a little hyperbolic. A very little… )

I Looked For You

 

 

I wondered and waited for you…

I wondered who would show up, I wondered who would stand.

I wondered if my words or calls for help would bring you to us. I worried my anguished voice would just fall flat.

I looked for you; I searched through the faces to see if there was someone, that one unexpected person to stand with me because they see and despise the injustices too.

I looked for someone to say, I heard you.

I looked for you to hold my hand while I cried about our babies being shot or strangled, then tossed away like litter.

I willed you to come to my side while we spoke about the broken promises and horrors that are inflicted on all my relations because we refuse to die off for the convenience of Canadian business moguls.

I silently begged you to show up for every possible reason I could think of, but mostly… mostly because you wanted to stand for and do, what’s right.

I waited for you to come to me to say you are part of our community and we are part of yours.

I watched for you to speak up and say, this isn’t my Canada. We will change a country that would treat anyone this way because we cannot, we will not, call a country that treats people like this, good enough.

I watched and waited and wondered about you.

…I looked for you…

RL

The Phoenix Seeks

One was too saintly, the other mystifyingly, overly wanton
but, the muse that had once stood in front of him,
caused him the great distress of having to choose between them.
He couldn’t have loathed her more for that.
She was the appointed trajectory change, The Annointed,
ready to absorb all pain,
swallowing every shot of poison he threw on her.
His game changer.
She’d fulfilled her divine role, took it all, and then she cried & cursed, screamed & writhed until her strength of purpose coiled it all up and she hurled it to the Universe-
trusting its claim to render the collection into harmless stardust.
And then she burned him….
She left him
She left…
The deepest of profane-worthy infractions: the disease of desertion, the unholy crime of abandonment. That’s why he set his world on fire…
She left.
Him.
If he’d really wanted the Saint, he’d have got ordained and lived on his knees. He’d have played at prayerful loving until he could run for privacy to vomit out the inevitable gut-full of banal-blended depression.
If he’d really wanted Devil Baby, he’d have dug into the part of ratbag with a heart of gold for much longer than 190 days of tortuous – love to love & hate you, Baby Girl.
He hungers for the one who wasn’t a saint, but had an army of them for back-up…. that one just near enough to demons to be inspired without getting sucked into their seediness.
He’d forgot the bargain to hold muses indefinitely; ignored it entirely.
Unsuitable for the narrative of his design, and yet…
He poured gasoline all over his world to regain that searing desire and relief that only she’d ever drawn from him.
He imagined himself a Phoenix, but he’ll never leave the flames. He will never know the cooling of the ashes as they heal and repair. He will never rise anew.
He burns… forever,
but not nearly so much as for
more of her.

RL

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/saintly/

String O’ Tears

puppeteerFor a friend….

A message, a song, prose of awareness to carry to your fair-weather friend

That really great one who utterly love-bombs you, repeatedly – if not ceaselessly
Bombards you hard enough to make you forget your own fugging mind
The mind that used to have instincts that automatically waved red flags
Those inner stirrings of wariness that led you right from wrong
When you weren’t the puppet you became in order to earn more ear candy
Those sweets that plump your heart and keenly sink into your under-nourished psyche

Enough sugar to make you think you are the brightest, funniest, loveliest star ever found
And he will always assert with that add-on: …“and I have known many a crispy star”
And so he enlists you to spy, cajole, and/or keep an eye out for reporting purposes
Ah, soon we learn a puppeteer’s affinity with clowns runs far more extensively than skin deep…
He uses you to mark his territory, share his dirty deeds; you’re his unique ‘love in crime’
& if reports are interesting enough, he will even step out from behind his shield of breasts
To poke his nose out gingerly, which counts as brave for this completely scar-less ‘warrior’

You do it because, sigh, someone has finally or fully seen how really special you are
And, no real harm, just a bit of fun, just messing a little with idiots & low-lifes after all
‘Cause beneath it all, he’s a nice guy, so alone & a little scared, mostly misunderstood
Your maternal instinct will fill in all the excuses he hints at to make you both feel better
In gratitude, he’ll toss you more necklaces hand-beaded with extra-honeyed accolades

He’ll gift you amusing anecdotes and witticisms du jour and you’ll both laugh and laugh
Or he’ll wax on spiritual depth, prophet-like and it’ll be like you’ve bathed in enlightenment
So many days in a year, so many appropriated lines to unveil, so many toys available for play
Oh, to be free of those strings, to dance around and around a stage, firm and stable
Where the feelings and thoughts and words fed to your soul are unfeigned

Oh, to live, only where love is real and the only strings attached are honestly heart to heart

RL


For the interested, here’s a quick review of the process these personalities engage in, in real life:  But, He’s a ‘SoulMate’  Why Narcissists Disappear  (Hint: It’s not just the silent treatment)

Gabriel Called, Michael Slayed; When Dreams Haunt

When dreams haunt…

gabriel-and-michael-2

The wolf howled as Gabriel neared with message of purpose

Michael circles fiercely, commands, demands adherence

Know thyself

wolf-bear-spirits

Bear shields warily

Wolf brings message of purpose

Reclaim your power; believe your instinct

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yin-yang

The visions turn and turn

Messages cross like swords

Renewal is imminent;  Michael defends Gabriel, Clan Mother and Wolf  lead to win …

RL

Artwork credit:
Bear: :Clan Mother, 2012″ and
Wolves: “From the Shadows”, by Jordan Thompson, mohawk-art-design.com
ArchAngel Michael by Unknown
ArchAngel Gabriel by Howard David Johnson

That! Is My Answer

Someone once reached an uncharted part of me…
Only one time …
Ever…
Finally!

lovebirds

Someone dived deeply into my needs and said I will fight for them. I will be the salve that fills them.

I can do that.  I will do that – because you are so fucking worth it.

That!

It was that –  that ignited a visceral, cellular level response revealing a deeply buried gratitude effervescing in complete joy to the surface of my being.  For him.

It would take that to have me soaring after eagles again.
It’s what separates punks from the men,
The heroes from the ... weak.
It takes that for me to feel loved,
And safe,
And secure.

It’s that…
that I want
and need…
Still.
It was always,

That.

Why would I settle for anything else, ever again?
Settle for what?

Nothing, less than – that.

RL

The end of tributes… I lay down tobacco today to finish the healing.

Better Than Goodbye

I know you needed me for something bigger… way bigger than tats, boobs and roots and –
I let you down…
but your angels and mine told me that was meant to be…
Because I have a job, I was always going to be gone,
And they know me…
They know how hard I hold onto your love…
and that hasn’t changed at all, not in all of our lifetimes…
not one.

Our laughter is still insurmountable,
and I never needed French champagne, I never needed fancy deals.
I was so content to only lay beside you and just feel you there,
Because I loved feeling our souls connecting.  Again.
I was relishing our love, forever years old.
I only needed to look in your eyes… to see…
us.

So, they’ve made my people show me why I saw you
for only these five minutes of light…before the blackness swallowed its heart.
And they tell me I have to do some things, and they lived up to their promise
And now I have to live up to mine.
Your angels are telling you the same…
Please don’t fight them so hard,
Play the way you need, go howl at the moon, but don’t forget,
if you ignore them too long, they play harder…

I’m not abandoning you, I love you…
I keep my promises and you know that’s true.
And when it’s time, I know we will have us again,
We will be free of darkness, the lessons and duty.
We will be free to be wrapped in each other
unfettered to fly through forever,
again.

RL

Goodbye Poem tryptic

We can burn that bridge when the morning comes…

Thug Angels

Thug Angels 22A

His vision, his world, a shambles
Soul matter blasted into splinters
His prayers for freedoms and joys splayed
Across the Universe
The result of his grasping in silt for light

He blamed her, she who berated him
For his throwing her under the bus
He forgot she was the one who hears when he refuses to listen
He set about to break her, then eradicate her
He didn’t notice she’d already been shocked into a heap of sobbing incertitude

He accused her friends, the ones who stepped in
The ones who told him he was over the line
But they only needed to have their say
And then they moved on
Anything else was of minimal intrigue

Incredible how he missed the obvious; how he didn’t recognize their handiwork
Smoke swirling around their heads, cigars on their lips
As they sat at the liquor laden table surveilling
His own nearest & dearest slogging to tell him, show him, lead him
And he’d left them laughing, cursing and then sighing

Thug Angels 2B

It was time, he was overdue
The escapes of old were disingenuous now and the diversions too unworthy
The old schtick overworked, overused, overdone
His purpose was grown now, and he needed to catch up
Seemed to be taking him forever to catch on

It grates on them, the way he pisses and moans
When his prayers are answered
As if his puny ideas and plans matched the Universal facilities
They roll their eyes at his indignant umbrage and dismissal of Universal intent
At his constant returns, to deferral, to keep playing in skin deep

He’s meant to clean up the broken pieces… hold them in his hands
To plead for honest to God help and forgiveness and real humanity
To finally step up to accountability
To put it all back together
And again be whole

Time to stop blowing smoke, they tell him
It is so bloody well up to you now, this part, bud
Bemoan it, ignore it, delay it, but it don’t matter
It’s only fear in the way and fear’s no match for the inevitable
Your prayers, pal – so, get your own arse outta the way

Thug Angels 2C

Hey, Tony… your turn to deal…

RL

They said to her,
“Hard work being convinced the latest & the latest latest is the real thing this time, hey”?
“Haaaa…as their laughed soared & faded, “Sure… sure it is, ha ha haaa”…
…and she only smiled back at them. After all, they know everything…

Cupid’s Fraudballs – Deep Love Times 1,001

So, not every love story resembles the Harlequin Romance model or the Dr. Phil / Oprah recommendations of ‘healthy’, nor are they as far off the chain as the trailer park trashy gymnastics  of the Jerry Springer couplings either.

Sometimes they’re the stuff of mythical proportions. Heady. Messy. Legendary – Taylor and Burton, Bacall and Bogart, Hepburn and Tracy – all grown from impossible drama seeds planted within the largest of human persona.

They’re the masters of the double black diamond slopes of emotional mountain ranges – INTENSE and tender, RAGING and nurturing, DANGEROUS and comforting …. Mythical Gods come to life, breathtaking to behold, and dizzily staggering to live with.

Not all are destined for fame or the full theatre; some of these lesser-sized immortals are merely just around the cul-de-sac circles, seemingly average neighbours, but just as fiery, and we knew two of them…


K&P Style
He will say she was unforgiving,
She will say he was unbearably untrustworthy.
He will say she is relentless wariness,
And she will say he mercilessly pushes her over limits.
He will say she is insanely focused on rules,
She will say his demands are cruel humiliations.
He will say she refuses to understand him,
She will say, seeking true empathy from him is like talking to the dead.
He will say she is every appalling name in the book,
And she will say, she loathes that he is only either angel or demon.
He seeks her adoring maternal nurturing,
She begs him to stand tall as a real & loyal hero.
She will say he burned down their home,
He will say she lit the match.
He will admit how awful he is,
She will concede that she aches for his good days.
He will say, he despises needing her this much,
She will say, she hates that she will never love another as deeply.
He will trim his beard for her,
She will grow her hair long for him.
He will kiss her neck,
She will take his hand in hers.
He will hold her face,
She will lean her head on his back.
He can be calmed only by living with the ordinary, the banal,
She can be safe only within strength without edges.
Their light has been, will be, entwined for eternity,
They will say goodbye,  1,001 times… or more.

…………………………………………………………………

Marianne Williamson said: “Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who they are. Until we have forgiven someone’s darkness, we don’t really know what love is.”

I’d add forgiveness does not mean having to keep anyone in your life. It means getting to your own genuine peace after exiting the dark.

Happy Love Day, to all.  Here’s to the  ups and downs and twists in life, regardless of the degrees, that steer us to our strengths, and hopefully, to our best love.

RL  

No Surrender

I am very honored to have this post featured on The Poetry Daily, February 15, 2016

Monday Blues and Champagne

Monday Blues 1-1
…And so I got a little bit drunk on a Monday afternoon….
It was just a little bit too much to deal with, all the bad news of the fall…
It was just a little bit too much.
No, I don’t do this often… I don’t do it often at all actually,
But today, I did
Because the sound of silence was not a comfort today.
Today the silence threatened to silence, even me.
A little champagne with the omelette,
To dampen despondency … to throw a block at that insidious intrusion sneaking in …
The judge that reminds me of my failures, blames me for my losses, wants to decline my sense of safe esteem.
I did get a little bit drunk
To evade the judgement that sentences me to self-recriminating hell for losing to the merely inane.
I got a little bit drunk this afternoon,
When all the meditation in the world wasn’t enough.
So I could instead turn to only the encouragement of lovely, thinking people.
So I could feel the comfort of gorgeous words that were written to assuage my fears.
So, I could remember that these people matter, and to know that the insidious, more than anything,  especially on Mondays, could use … a little champagne.

RL

Silence

There are no words worthy of the gratitude I feel toward the people who champion me in the hard times as much as during the laughs. I raise my glass to the ones who prod me to carry on, and carry on with my words even within my fears that I will give away too much.

To the ones whose own words speak so directly to my heart that they give me a strength they can’t possibly imagine – thank you… thank you… thank you…

To the women who worked so efficiently to enlighten me about what is, thank you.

Photo Credit: Darren Quarin, Quarin Photography, “A Glimmer of Hope”