Upon a Star...

I wish
I could paint you
a perfect world.
One
in which you'll never be hurt
again; a perfect world.

No disdain,
only vibrant chains
of indigo trees
with violet leaves
& electric pops
of silver & rose
where trails of
your thoughts are
littered & lined with glitter;
up a sparkling,
winding spine.

Walk me along
the wonderland paths
of your miraculous mind;
stroll with me
always,
exploring all ways
to & fro'
Renaissance
and
modern times.

Let's fall
somewhere between the lines;
this yellow brick road
is surely paved
with dreams
& dusted with gold
amidst inviting fields
of crimson & clover.

Embark on
a safari
during which we'll walk like lambs
innocently hunting
wild Dandelions;
each upon which
I'll wish
I could paint you this
perfect world.

French Kiss

Je suis un étudiant de la langue, un étudiant de langues.
M'apprendre ce que vous voulez.

 Je suis un étudiant de mots, un étudiant de votre bouche.
M'apprendre ce que vous voulez.


c.marie 

The Age Old Tale of Youth

Root beer floats &

Tom Sawyer boats

to

beers on draft &

white-water rafts.

Man, life sure moves fast...

Winter coats &

castle moats

to

office buildings &

Geurrilla Warfare killings.

Man, life sure is billing...

Kings of the mountain &

films of Charlie Chaplin

to

assassination schemes &

broken dreams.

Man, life sure alternates themes...

Dr. Seuss &

duck, duck, goose!

to

National Geographic &

old photos in the attic.

Man, life sure goes by quick.

Shells on the beach &

sand beneath feet

to

collecting change from the ground &

feeling lost, then found.

Man, life sure does astound.

To Bed With

     I slept with my scarf
Lastnight,
     it felt good
     to go to bed with
that which kept
     a tender, yet secure arm
     wrapped around my shoulders
with a warm touch upon my arm
     guiding loose fingers
     idly interlacing with mine
sharing soft secrets into sleep.

--------------------- N I G H T M A R E S ----------------------

• Strangled. Stealing oxygen. Anxiety. Panic.
• Bled out. Transference of warmth was the scarf absorbing my  blood as a color-dye. Stealing warmth. Energy leech feeding on happiness.
• Tied up. Restricted & confined from stretching or moving to my best potential.
• Alone. The scarf had unraveled into oblivion during the night, leaving me by myself & vulnerable.

------------------- T H E  N E X T  D A Y ------------------

     I slept with my scarf lastnight.

     I woke up feeling

     nervous & unrested,

     stiff & alone.

But,

     the scarf was still there...

     Because it's a scarf.

Balcony Babblings

I look up at Saturn & think of you...
   how at times, I'm rendered speechless.
Tie my tongue, confuse my lips...
   like drinking wine from a dirty paper cup.
My lungs absorb the smoke from your aura...
   as if breathing you in would saturate my soul.

Improbable Possibilities

What if...
     one day we're fine?
     Fine again.

Pacific Northwestern

She packed up her car
Drove straight to the Pacific Northwest
Where she unpacked her car
Time to build herself a new nest
     So she hummed...
Not long to unpack her trunk
But she felt her bones needed rest
Not far to the bar to get drunk
Time to find herself some new friends
     So she danced...

     (The flames of her fire reached for the sky,
maybe higher, while the people they gathered 'round her.
The Earth moved without sound
where her feet met the ground, & the people,
they danced 'round with her.

You found her note in the plain envelope,
"Left for a life in the Pacific Northwest..." All she could wrote,
well it was less than you hoped
to read: "Don't call me and please
don't contest.")

She awoke the next morn'

Heart fully blossoming out of her chest

Feeling refreshed & reborn

Even her voice was sounding its best

     So she sang...

She grew gray & old

Lived free & unabashed with one last request

That when her story was told

It be spoke & addressed with the utmost respect
For the great open land of the Pacific Northwest

     So she breathed...

(The flames of her fire reached for the sky,
maybe higher, while the people they gathered 'round her.
The Earth moved without sound
where her feet met the ground, & the people,
they danced 'round with her.

So they breathed...

The flames of her fire reached for the sky,
maybe higher, while the people they gathered 'round her.
The Earth moved with great sound
when their feet met the ground, The People,
dancing ash into dirt.)

 c.marie

Alchemy

If souls had professions, then
we were once Alchemists.
The proof pours
straight from our hearts
out of our fingertips
in fluid streams of gold.

If hearts are magnets, then
we are each others
True North.
The proof is in our compasses;
for when one feels lost
the other guides the way
home.

If eyes are windows, then
I see life
when I look into you.
The proof is in the way you look
back at me;
with longing
& simultaneous patience.
The brightness of your eyes
is enough to blind.

If we come from kings, then
you are of Midas.
The proof is in each freckle
left upon my skin
as a map of where
your fingertips have been.
At your every touch
I am set aglow.


c.marie

Invisible Legend

Sometimes I am overcome

by so many thoughts

it's hard

to bleed them out

through my fingertips

by means of the ink

from the proverbial

mightier point.

Oh how to make

my words seep

into the day's

choice parchment,

without spilling my ponderings

into a blotchy mess of a pool?

An incomprehensible

blotchy

mess of a pool

soaked up by

thirsty fibers of empty pages.

Is it not enough,

that these blank pages

were once towering kings?

A beautiful army of trees

sacrificed

for mere availability

to senseless scribblings.

Sawed, sliced, compressed,

bleached

clean of their own

valiant history.

I have to believe that

the rings still reside

deeply encrusted

in the microscopic threads

accumulated to fortify

the history

in the fibers

that thread together

to make a piece of paper.

For the ink

we scratch across the smooth surface

bonds our own history

with the hidden messages

of forests past.

Maps

& legends

& secrets

& keys

to humanity

through the perspective

of wooden giants.

We are all

more intertwined

than we choose to acknowledge.

c.marie

Time Is Only a State of Mind

nothing is real
unless everything before was false,
prelude to the real reality;
preparation for now.
practice
digging with proverbial shovels,
words make for sharp-edged spades.
once we claw out of our ditches
we may climb
the mound of discarded dirt
so nonchalantly thrown
over weighted shoulders.

before,
given aid;
wings for weary gravediggers.
but
growth is a funny method of backwards
lessons taught by the oldest philosopher:
Time.


Media Medusa by ~Sacke-art on deviantART

"Last Night A Passenger"

"Last night I think I lived a thousand years
Caught wind of the soft song of passing winds
Swam past the seas and met a school of fish
'Enjoy class' they said, 'but keep a weather eye
Keep a weather eye out'

That sound that pulled me out got louder still,

Until salt and sea became a vacuum's mouth

I tumbled into a dark room

T'was all void and smelled of stale sea air

I said, my oh my

where on earth am I?

I've been swallowed whole

Now a passenger

In the belly of fate!

Fate!
Fate!

Last night I traveled without eyes or ears
I sat idle in the womb of elders, tense
From sailing to the Isle of Wight!
A hostage in the mouth of myth

I said, my oh my

where on earth am I?

I've been swallowed whole

Now a passenger

In the belly of fate!"

Incendiary

This thick, salty air adheres to the inside of my nose with hints of sticky seaweed; it welcomes me among brethren of starlit silhouettes hunched in heavy sweatshirts. I'll walk; admire the suspended ocean mist as it lingers, dousing tall street lamps radiating soggy weak light...


The both of us.


Glowing from the embers of leftover fire, my bones have become brittle kindling; burning quickly, dying slowly. Cozily bundled in blankets of ash, lay here in futile resistance. The coals of my heart refuse to concede. The only means to extinguish me is to be swallowed by the hunger of another lively flame.


Let us dance wildly, high above our pit of smolders. Let us lick this defiant chill away with an unruly arson. Let us hold each other passionately, for our bodies are combustible. Let us provoke diamonds from our coals.


Press against me; let us burn like napalm.


c.marie

"That's the Way"

two things came to mind when i heard this song this morning...


1- damn. this is SUUUUUCH a good song & i haven't heard it in forEVer. mmmm.
2- damn. this is playing at possibly the most heavy moment in 'Almost Famous'; which is one of my favorite movies & perhaps one of the most affecting films for my soul.


now, i know horoscopes are purely perceived in whichever translation is presently emotionally necessary for each individual... but mine have been eerily specific. citing such advice as:

"Summon up your moxie and face something that may make you feel a little uncomfortable. You know, of course, that if you try to ignore the situation, then worry will set in -- and when worry sets in, worry lines soon follow. So before things go down that unfortunate route, be bold and take care of business. This dog's bark is worse than its bite."

 "You're usually not very easy to con. You've seen it all, heard it all, and, when you were younger, probably tried it all. Right now, though, your antennae are twitching like crazy, and when they twitch, you listen -- another thing you learned way back when. You'll know exactly what they were alerting you toward when you cross paths with that certain person who's obviously trying to dupe you. Won't it be nice to grin, tell them you're not game for their game and excuse yourself?" 

enough of this. non-verbal, subconscious contemplation leaves me nowhere but in the circular ditch my mental pacing digs.

Franz Liszt

"La Campanella" - Paganini Étude No.3

 

Liebestraum - Love Dream

Train Tracks of Tangents

laying on my naked bed
fully clothed
remembering dreams;

past lives... or maybe visions of the future.

forgetting secrets
societies forged

within an overlapping circle of friends & foes.

deceptive smiles
ticking time-bomb crocodiles

tell me everything by saying nothing.

moon rains down
accented by each star shining
over an all-American river

feet dangle, feelings tangle, fear drowns in herbal water.

blink eyes hard
rub away rust from daydreams

familiar faces fade with flickering streetlights.

time travel, girl
maroon curtains unfurl

suspended in this animation of mental history

locomotive exhaust
smoke rings encompass
mind's eye waves blindly

ghost conductor lunatic smile, runaway train on a tangent mile.

c.marie