Anarchy

Revolution!

Redemption!

You can’t have it with your vintage views.

No labels

Who am I? Who are you?

Comfort zone boundaries

self-safety at what cost?

Sirens make me nervous

Thanatos was silent…until he wasn’t.

Then I was introduced to him as an unwilling lover

What owns you?

Person?

Thing?

Why is order so important if Anarchy is freedom?

Brushed Out

Clumps of dirt, dust, and debris rotted my brains

whenever I tried to speak to passers by

I’d hold my beggar’s cup earnestly pushing

for loose change to fall chiming into the depths

speaking foul breathed words of backwards intent

Clumps of zombie flesh fell from my body

repulsing potential friends, disgusting possible employers

until

I blinked my eyes to dream and you coalesced

pristine

extraordinary

You made strange sense of my chaos, spoke to me

with careful brush strokes through my tangled words

Ever so gently you tugged at my self-loathing,

conditioned my confidence,

curled my toes with affection,

showered me with the truth through your actions

as you loved my pieces back together.

With frightened squalling wails of labor,

forsaking all others

I was born into redemption with your hand embracing mine

the day I agreed with you that I am worthy of love

When I’m Alone

The Clipper Ship Blue Jacket On Choppy SeasAm I Schrodinger’s cat locked in a coffin that I can’t see?

Am I my own imagination come to life or who others want to see?

Am I an earthquake that shakes the foundation of your beliefs?

Am I the whirlwind that’s met with cautious alacrity?

Am I so enigmatic I am hidden even from myself?

Am I a magician’s assistant that performs with infuriating stealth?

Who am I when there’s nobody around to witness me?

Am I just a wanderer piloting my ship on the popped blue collar sea?

The Queen of Heaven

The halls of the House of Heaven are adorned with blood of Her children
Refused the white alabaster once crested with silver, gold, and lapis lazuli
Now flowing with the blood of Her prostitutes, their pearls crimson with chaos
Surrender is refused, rejected, removed from the battle to prove submission
To offer power in glorious vestments rising from the throne of iniquity with grace
Descending into redemption with the drip of silk slithering with sequins suspended
The Queen of Heaven requires no sacrifices because She IS the sacrifice to death

Inanna Mine

She is the lioness with thorns in her feet, dripping orgasmic lust into her champions
Revealing and reveling in her descent to retrieve her consort, her soul, her spirit
Upon the landing in front of the gates of her Dark Sister’s kingdom, she is bared
With defiance only a sister can offer to the darkness within, she stands demanding
Intolerably thrusting her power of persuasive requests until intervention is required
She lays the last of her rosettes, her eight pointed star, at her sister’s feet
Bargain struck, The Lady of Uruk returns to her battled halls in the House of Heaven
The seven gates of the underworld reversed, laid bare of masks and protections
Enthroned within power, she alights with her scepter, a hook shaped twisted knot of reeds
She remains victorious over death, over the underworlds within, over the rape of her holiness