Listen To The Rain

28 September, 2007 at 22:34 (Uncategorized)

The rain pours down over flowers.
Your portrait gazes down at me in blue,
hanging there over the fireplace,
in a house I built for you,
Or for someone who just likes to watch?
And didn’t I build this house to live in?
It’s so hard to tell.
The rain pours over the flowers,
a statue of Our Lady in the garden,
peeks out around the bushes,
I had never noticed her there before.
She looks a little like you,
perfect in blue.
The rain in the garden makes the flowers grow,
is cooling, refreshing to dance in,
to stand in,
to simply let pour over me and watch this garden grow.
All tangled with weeds now,
I got a little confused,
thought I’d built this house for you,
it’s mine though isn’t it?
And where is mine and where is yours,
and where exactly did we meet?
Do you like to stand in the rain?
And watch the flowers,
overcome by the weight of the water,
bend and bend and bend until they break?
My pillow is wet with tears,
although I’m noticing I left the window open,
so it might just be the rain,
and more flowers on my pillow,
I like the yellow, reminds me of sunlight and goes,
very well with the blue of your dress.
And me?
Oh no, you meant you?
We are not so very alike afterall I suppose,
I prefer to watch the roses,
not catch them when they’re thrown,
I don’t know why they’re spread there on my bed,
let me lie back on this wet pillow,
did you have to close the window?
I like to get wet in the rain,
I like it to pour over me,
and bend and bend and bend me until I break,
a little like the flowers,
though I suppose, yellow is not my colour.
Blue is the colour of the statue in the garden,
and red for the rain again I suppose,
you take whichever you like.
Take your portrait from the wall in the kitchen if you like,
It’s my house,
I’ve never had any more control over it than you have,
just a semblance of rooms and walls,
a corridor or two,
and you.
A vision to peer after and consider,
think on, when seen,
slightly out of focus in the distance,
around the corner, in the garden,
behind a mask at the ball,
You looking forward to this year?
It started in the way it meant to carry on,
take a seat in my hall
and let the dancing begin.

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Heres To Love

25 September, 2007 at 21:41 (Uncategorized)

You’ve torn my heart out many a time,
You and my will have battled,
Oh gods how we’ve battled,
How I never wanted to give myself up to you,
How that urge lives so deep inside myself.
How I tear myself apart,
Put my hands within my various skins, and rip,
So, I’m putting down my weapons now,
My head is bloody, and I’m looking you right in the eyes,
Taking off every scrap of armour I ever had,
Because this is about me,
And my damned will,
So now, I’m giving up, on my terms sure,
But here it is, this is about me and my amour,
And now I stand before you naked,
And I’m saying do what you will,
Because my stubborn nature is inflicting itself again,
And this isn’t about weakness,
But some unexpected strength that’s come a little too late.
So you tore out my heart again,
And I’m saying what’s new?
Offering you a challenge,
So here I am, no armour on, not going to refuse,
Whatever it is you choose to bring,
Here I stand a Queen and you a God,
So lets go, take what you want, my armours on the floor,
I’ll trust you this time, You can see the wounds you’ve left,
Everything I’ve endured, everytime I’ve let you do your worst and stuck to my guns,
Desperate to be external. Well, here I am,
Take me, because it’s my will we’re talking about here.
The armours on the floor, my clothes are near the door,
The blood is mine, I won’t raise a hand against you this time.
Not taking me tonight?
I’ll leave then, find me whenever you like.

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25 September, 2007 at 19:13 (Uncategorized)

I think I did, I expected an easier birth,
I expected to leave my thinking far behind,
I thought it would leave no pain and death,
But of course, this is a cycle,
And I am leaving behind a part of who I am,
So they all gather round, and cheer,
gather round and jeer,
gather round for one last dance,
To wave her off and back and here again.
Birthing this, is hard, and I am not myself,
Trapped between the worlds,
A million girls,
And each of them must be.

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24 September, 2007 at 17:56 (Uncategorized)

Feel the flow,
Feel the flow,
Go with the ropes,
Go with the gold.

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24 September, 2007 at 13:32 (Uncategorized)

Raining today,
Wash away,
The stench of death from my clothes,
Raining today,
Left me,
Over-confident,
The poison of assassins,
Raining today,
Clear sky,
To clear away,
Equinoctal storms.

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Coming Is She?

24 September, 2007 at 11:20 (Uncategorized)

Can still feel her,
Still feel her waves,
And we are forming,
Falling? Is there any difference?
I do it for the punishment,
Not control,
Some part of the Christianity got through all right,
Is she sickened?
Disgusted?
It got through all right,
And the waves are lapping gently at my feet,
And we are falling,
Flying? Is there any difference?
I do it because,
I decided long ago,
To trust my feet,
And I know, now,
What I felt was coming,
I got through,
So will you, and you and you and she,
What it is to be free,
What it is to feel the path fall away,
She is still coming,
Bow before her,
At the approach of her waves,
Everything wakes,
It got through all right,
Everythings unbalanced now,
The nights are longer,
Does this mean she comes on stronger?
And then, I saw,
I do this for the punishment,
It’s never about control,
I’m flying, falling, forming,
It’s all the same,
The only thing I need to work on,
Are the landings.

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23 September, 2007 at 03:01 (Uncategorized)

30 silver pieces sitting in my hand,
How did they get here?
Oh yeah, I’m supposed to understand.
I’m just trying to be me,
Theres a man downstairs who thinks I’m easy,
I’m just, looking at the silver in my hand,
A quick kiss for betrayal,
A quick kiss for good luck,
Trip on down the stairs, don’t forget to duck.
30 silver pieces sitting in my head,
I’m still holding them,
Theres nothing else I could have said.

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22 September, 2007 at 18:47 (Uncategorized)

She lives below the waves and all that she is, is here,
She exists in the centre of the lights,
And she is here.
Below the waves, tidally flowing,
She is here.
Before you now, eternally knowing,
She is here.
The waves push and pull, she is the undertow,
She decides where you go, she is the underow,
If you want to flow, you cannot keep her to yourself,
For she grants you inspiration,
She is not to be kept.
She was reborn, ever to be reformed,
She is coming, she is coming , she is here.
Can you see her?
Be careful now,
Do not wish too hard,
Grasp her close and sh will slide, she is like a salmon,
She is coming close now.
Beyond the waves, in the ceiling, with her round, blue eye,
She knows, she cannot help but knowing,
Do her down at your peril,
Underestimate her if you will,
For she will smile that little smile and your thread will be through.
Walk in her woods but gently,
You will mistake her.
Did you not know that, ultimately, she is your creator,
She causes you to be, she causes you to see,
If Paris hadn’t made his judgement then how the hell could we?
For everything will come back,
It’s coming back now.
She is the mother and she is the lover, eternal sow,
Can you not see her plunge away down the hillside,
Plunge yourself if you dare,
She rides over the cliffs, and it looks like she doesn’t care,
Can you not see? She is coming, oh she is coming now.
Do not seek to keep her penned, for that she cannot allow,
There is not other save her, and she is coming soon,
From her the lights flow, oh but that will all end soon.
When she knows herself,
Takes posession of the throne,
When she truly understands then all you have known will be flung from her,
Far as the farthest wave,
When she has come to shore do not expect her to save you.
She’s simply not that kind of bitch, not that kind of goddess, not that kind of love,
But she is coming, you cannot doubt it,
She is coming – now MOVE.

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Equinox

22 September, 2007 at 14:34 (Uncategorized)

Oh son, son of mother,
Can you hear me?
For I am not myself anymore and so I’m running through these woods and looking hard for you,
Son, son of mother,
It is not male, this birth that I am big with,
She inside me is myself,
And I was taken by the waves,
Soon she will spill forth and I will be big no more,
Son, son of mother,
Where did you go?
Can you hear the words I say,
Or do they simply scare you,
Scarring you worse than the deer you have caught today,
Take my hand, lead me deeper into these woods,
But always, you catch my hands,
Take me to the moors,
Son of mother the boars and sows are running,
What do you expect me to find in that cave?
Her clitoris drips,
It is an opening that cave,
And the stalactites are vaginal folds,
Did you expect me to miss something so obvious?
Son, son of mother,
Where would you take me?
Son, son of mother,
You are trapped eternally even as I am,
Where will we go together?
Are you awaiting a rescue of your own,
Hunt for the virgin priestess and I’m sure you’ll find her heart,
Wrapped in cloth three thousand fathoms down,
And soon I will birth her.

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Born

22 September, 2007 at 09:36 (Uncategorized)

Did you expect a birthing to be easy?
Did you expect that initial conception in the garden to be it?
And did you think as you gazed at the skies,
Thinking of the land and all that was in it,
Whilst he dove between your thighs,
That this was it?
Did you expect a birthing to be pain and nothing more?

She comes, with the foam and the sea,
She comes, as we sink and the waves form over us,
She comes, with the pull of the undertow,
And we are taken, beyond ourselves,
We are taken above ourselves,
And this is a magical act,
And this is the magical act.

Did you expect a birthing to be easy?
Over in a moment’s conversation,
A hug and a kiss and everythings better now,
Smooth the savlon over the wound.
Nothing worth anything at all is that easy.
And this is of the land and of the sea,
And nothing is supposed to be that easy.

She comes, with the foam and the night,
She comes, with the roar of the waves,
She comes and choices are made,
Choices are made and paths are taken,
And it doesn’t matter which paths you make,
Because all that matters is who goes with who.
All that matters is who walks the path.

Did you expect a birthing to be easy?
She’s coming very very soon.

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