A Day in the Life of a Mouth

Part I:

Lips were stained violet with malbec,
tongue was bruised with honesty.
Teeth were chewing on grave words,
mouth was tired of standing up for itself.

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Part II:

Breath was screaming with silence,
voice was strategically muted.
Smile offered an unspoken lie of agreement,
chin squared by clenched jaw.

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Part III:

Emotional eruption of speech,
pouring out with the blunt force of truth.

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c.marie

The Lure of Lust

   Swaying at the suggestion of the sea, which teased my feet
shifting the granular ground; I stared...

   I stared across the silky blue blanket of the Pacific,
pretending to ignore her not-so-subtle winks...

   She winked with invitation,
danced with "come-hither" undulations;
playfully begging me to come in and explore...

   "Come in and explore my depths",
she enticed with whooshing breaths
tempting my curiosity...

   Curiosity tripped me into submission as
I warily waded into her alluring waters;
I must admit- her uncharted territory is
bliss...

   In the midst of bliss she claimed,
"I would be remiss if I did not insist you
let me wet your lips; let me fill you up,
let me quench your thirst for love."

   Thirsty for her love I realized I was,
therein parting my mouth letting her liquid
tickle my tongue.

   Tongue lashing, desire crashing in waves,
I soon accepted I had met my grave; for
I was drowning in her
intoxicating taste.



 
c.marie

Going Rogue

I'm sprinting away from the proverbial Third Eye, escaping its view by seeking the cover of darkness. I'm darting from shadow to shadow avoiding its gaze; for if the Third Eye aligns with my two, it will unlock my door of inner pandemonium upon undeserving souls. Thus the disconnect commences. The preparation for long-term "goodbye". I intend to embark on this journey independently & without council. For sentimental words spoken only tenderize an armor made of pride.

Being naught but discreet in affection, feigning all with comforting smiles. But to bare happy teeth to my own reflection will turn teeth hostile- tear my flesh away for being guile. So turn me inside-out, lend me not the chance to hide; rather skin me alive. Strip me to sinew so that I may shed disguise and before the Third Eye confess my goodbye's. For if I bid "Hello" anymore, it will empty me to the core.

c.marie

Roleplay

To emulate the Sun. To wish to be that bright, burning, ball of orange & yellow. To want to radiate like that light which perpetuates energy. To be credited for sustaining the lives of whom you are involved in. To be like the sun; to endure solar flares of temper tantrums, scatter escaped embers that scar the vulnerable hearts with a tiny singe. To rise in fire is sure to fall in ash.

To flow as the river. To be a vessel of passage & deliverance to weary, traveling, lost souls. To want to wash over like the cleansing agent which purges confusion from a heart. To be credited for re-birthing the lives of whom you have come into contact with. To act as a serene guide, secretly steering with the current of your undertow. To be like the river; to drown the disobedient with the rage of wild rapids. To swell with the fury; saturate the land to soften it & influence its shape to your liking. To sink in defeat or swim in victory.

To conquer dragons. To slay with sword, defend with shield; a heart guarded by chainmail. To charge a fee of protection: obedience. To wear a shiny armor enticing others to follow your lead. But the armor negates life- the ability to feel. Don't be surprised when a mutiny arises.

All these roles played out on a stage only a gullible audience would attend. Be the light of your own life. Choose your own paths. Hide not behind the armor of sword & shield, pen & paper- for broken hearts grow back bigger.

c.marie

Wood Nymph

She travels the forests of the world;
visiting peacefully, her vessel of passage is the breeze.
She dances in the shadows of midnight.
She is the whimsy in the wind; a
collection of cherry blossoms whisked across
ancient lands, lending the secrets of life to the
remnants of what was once
Abundant enchantment.

She invented make-believe,
whispered the first fairy tale to the trees.
She lends herself to the
Lady of the River at every full moon in an
aqueous transportation of wisdom.
She is each individual petal shed from the
Lotus flower.
She showers delicately, upon a flowing surface;
letting the Lady of the River deliver her in
pieces of knowledge to the banks of
Waters Far.

She is dew in the morning mist,
thick with leftover sleep.
She is the yawn that yields youth to
schemes of the sandman;
She is the wink that wakes the world from dreams
in the first gleams of morning sun.

She lives in the core of Redwood, the aroma of the Eucalyptus, the strength of the Sycamore.

She is the unshakable presence in the
seemingly empty glades & thickets;
She is the rustling of the leaves in the
low brush & high canopy of the forest.
She is the sorrow in the rain,
mourning the murder of uncorrupt lands.
What once was rich and bountiful in the woods of
wishes and happily-ever-after's is now naught but
silent & barren.

A raped Mother Earth stands stoic,
holding-fast in her faith rested in her daughter,
Wood Nymph.
Prevailer of nature's pureness.

She is the whispers in the breeze, She is the
network of roots among all trees, She is the
soil of love that will bring you to your knees.
Infallible, impenetrable, fortified in the continuation of
wildlife-

She is...

The Wood Nymph.




c.marie