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Linger June 7, 2013

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The bass is in my chest
and it makes me feel hollow
Recent events, whatever they mean,
make a hard pill to swallow and
There’s no time to feed
the self loathing that’s roaming
in my head and my heart
or blame the rules of the game
So I shrug off the shame
lying bare on my shoulders
and move forward
But the road has grown longer
and meaner, and I don’t
want to linger here in this
faux purgatory more than I have to,
more than I need to
“I’ll pull through, in the end,”
I tell myself, like I’d
tell a friend.
For now I’m a ghost
making the most of
the time that I’m given
to prove I am driven
enough.

Core April 1, 2013

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It goes beyond
the foundational crust
It’s biological, it’s
part of us
It’s the chemistry of
carefully mixed parts
and checking your
math. Twice.

It is shaped by us
and, in turn, shapes us
the world moves to
many rhythms,
tripled and mixed,
but all in sync
and writing the
history books

Saying more than
poetry or painting
evoking lost emotions
and guiding the heart
to new ones
Music is my center,
my core, my purpose

Find your center
You may have to dig,
your knees planted on
the earth, your hands
covered in dirt,
and sweat on your brow
Find your center
but don’t claim to know mine

No one can
take that away
from me
And I won’t
let them take it
from you

St. James Infirmary February 21, 2013

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Blue skies, blue eyes
a sad, sad story
it’s a simple progression
to make misery
a wailing song
been too damn long
since blue’s been
a good color

Any color would be
a welcome sight
to these weary eyes
a yellow bright
or a red like wine
would be more than fine
but everything’s gone grey

It’s just as well
I didn’t appreciate it
anyway

Hush February 19, 2013

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I.

She squeezed her lover’s hand. It seemed an innocent enough gesture to those around. But they knew the secret to keeping it all hush, hush.
Three squeezes meant “I love you”
Four squeezes meant “I love you, too”
One long squeeze meant “Please don’t leave me”
This message was lost to the second lover as they picked up their bag and waved goodbye, feigning happiness to the lover left behind. To the unconvinced Brena.

It was then that she remembered the first time she said those 3 beautiful words.
“I love you”
“Hush!” her lover laughed, “someone may hear you.
“Let them hear!” Brena retorted, firmly but lovingly
“I wish I were as brave as you”

II.

Brena sat on the cliff overlooking the quiet sea, waiting. It had been months since her lover left. She took a pebble in her hand and squeezed it thrice.

She feared for her beloved, out to sea. She shook as the wind blew but not from the cold. Rather, she shook from the quick air penetrating the growing hole in her chest. The waves swelled and hit the rocks below as her heart, too, swelled, sure that her lover was already on her way back.

She had to be.

III.

Brena wasn’t sleeping well. Nightmares of hungry men having their way with her love, holding her down and muffling her screams kept her awake.

The images had her tossing and turning in the bed she used to share.
She told herself that no matter what she would put her back together again. She would brush the sea air out of her hair and rebuild her from the ground up.

IV.

The ship came back but her lover did not. The men ignored her worried, persistent questions. She went to the cliff again and told herself she would jump.

But the sea told her “No.”

V.

Brena was visited by officials a couple of days after the ship came back, without her lover. With no other family, her beloved’s belongings were returned to her.  A scarf, a leather bag, and a pair of work boots.

“What of her emerald? She never took it off.” Brena inquired.

“Hush, do not speak out of turn woman,” the man of God raised a hand, “We are truly sorry for your loss. Your sister was a magnificent sailor.”

Brena did not correct him and he said nothing of the emerald.

VI.

In the dirty hands of the sailors, drinking in the local tavern, was the emerald in question. A raven landed on the window sill, and eyed the jewel with curiosity.
“Didn’t take much to obtain it, stupid girl didn’t put up much of a fight,” said a drunken sailor.
“Hush! Drink makes you loud and foolish,” his friends warned.
The raven flew toward the sea.

They stumbled back to their wives, no worry of the morning’s repercussions in their mind, only the present merriment.
They were spared the harsh, judging light of day for none would wake with the sun.
Their blood drained from their throats,
Their tongues cut from their mouths,
Their bodies covered in black feathers.
The last sound they heard before death took them hung in the air, more than a promise. More than a threat.

“Hush”

Apple Tree January 24, 2013

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On my best days
I still think about it
that place that exists only in my mind,
as far as I know.
I close my eyes and
I can feel the gentle breeze
and the grass tickle my ankles
There we have a house,
small but more than enough
We’re rarely inside anyways

We have a bed
and a tea kettle
and one apple tree that
sits outside our window
and taps the glass on stormy nights

We often look toward the horizon
where grass meets sky
and feel nothing but peace

The only reminder of the
world beyond our little house
is the occasional piece of mail
that finds its way to our mailbox
shaped like a bird house

I feel your hand reach for mine
and I smile because
nothing could make this any better

When I open my eyes
real life is blinding and out of focus
but if I squint just right
I can see our one
apple tree

 

 

Prophecy: Black Sea April 23, 2012

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In the darkest of waters,
in the lands of the Old,
fates are decided
and fortunes are told

There, maidens three
will emerge from the sea
to tell you what was,
what is, and will be

One will bring peace
to body and mind,
rid you of guilt
and transgressions that bind

Another will welcome
good fortune in life,
warn you of danger
and incoming strife

The last will stay silent
but, holding your gaze,
will expel all your fears
in more than one way

For beginning anew
needs a mind that is open
a heart that is sure
and a spirit unbroken

Tears Grow Nothing March 21, 2012

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Don’t let me define you.
I am not a mirror
and even those are flawed.

Let me start over.

I am a gesture.
At best, a natural occurrence.
A pretty face and nothing more.

Don’t let me decide for you.
That’s not fair
I am not equipped for that
And you deserve better

At the end of the day,
no matter how many petals you pull,
he’s never coming back
And I’m only a flower.

God of the Sea January 19, 2012

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There he stood, his
body of bronze
and there I stood
in jaw dropping awe

Such presence in silence
this god of the sea
I knew who he was
but he didn’t know me

He relaxed his pose
and slowly he said
“What interest have you
in gods that are dead?”

I’ve interest in stories
of love and of rage
such tellings of old
are meant for the stage

And I love how the gods
are willing to trade and
bring you smooth sailing
for the alms you have paid

Your memory lives on
and your legend is great
don’t let the people
decide a god’s fate

And Poseidon, he smiled
“Thank you my friend
I’m not quite ready
for my legend to end”

<3Christine

Forgotten Father January 3, 2012

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All seeing eye of a realm in the sky
How lonely you must be
Your followers long dead
Your triumphs turned legend
And existence believed myth

A King may have all of the riches
and power to rule without waver
but a god with no
prayers
is a fish out of water

The hunger of your ego
doesn’t even possess the luxury
of ceasing to exist
A mortal’s death would surely suffice
but an immortal body would never allow it

And so you linger, like the scent of sunshine
after a long summer day,
watching and waiting for a true believer
to resurrect what has long laid dormant
an honest to god undying magic
the Forgotten Father of Winter’s past

Prophecy: Emerald City October 23, 2011

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When winds are agreeable
and the sky is clear
they will reunite in
the Emerald City
where, months before, nothing
could touch them;
our fiery star turned
their city into a gem
among rocks
and everyday was a dream
they never wanted to
wake up from
Alas, two lovers must part
but not for long

One sails north to find
better things
for his scholarly mind
to attend to
(while his heart lingers on her)
And if his search is fruitless
he will wait for things
to find him
If nothing else
he is patient
And when he grows thirsty
(as he often does)
he will think of nothing
but her voice,
like water,
whispering his favorite words

The other flies south
for the colors
and song birds
Flies south for her
own intellectual prospects,
expensive but promising;
when the days seem long
she will take it as a challenge
and fill the hours with music,
(sad but beautiful)
And when the sun no
longer warms her
feathers, she will long
for her northern star
more than ever