Love Letter

You lay dreaming in a beautiful slumber
The next room may as well be half a world away
Soft snores and twitches in your eye betray
The story behind your eyes
None will ever know
And it is in this mystery that I remember you
The soft blue of your eyes that look so full of love
The shape of your mouth as you speak
Leaving me hanging by the thread of your next word
A smile that is so much like a hug I want to wrap myself up in it
I remember your love
The way you can make every day seem not so bleak.
So, here we stand
In the middle of the future we used to dream about
Nothing like we planned
Yet everything we knew would happen
And I've run out of words
Because the feelings became so huge
And I will love you.
And I will want you.
And I will feel you.
And I will feel for you.
Until you wake up
Rested and ready to live our dream

The Minotaur and the Satyr

Did I ever tell you about the time I caught the Sun?

See, where I grew up; it was dark all the time. Cold, and really, really hard to make your way without constantly tripping yourself up and falling face first into some shit. But everyday, there was the Sun. So high up and somehow still so bright. And my Gods the warmth! It was like being wrapped inside joy; as if love was something tangible that you could touch and wrap around yourself like a blanket that would never get cold.

I looked at the Sun everyday. I admired it. "One day," I told myself, "One day, I'm going to catch it and I'll never be cold or in the darkness ever again!" It was such a higher power to me. Everything it represented was everything I felt inside about myself. I knew that I belonged with the Sun; that I had somehow been born wrong and the darkness that was supposed to feel like home felt alien next to even the idea of the Sun.

The day that I caught the sun was the happiest day of my life. For the first time I felt complete. I felt whole next to a love that matched my own. I felt every drop of its light as a kiss on my thirsty lips. My soul was sated in its arms and I felt safe away from the darkness that had been my home for so long.

And I clung to this love so tightly that, through the light, I didn't see the darkness that still surrounded me. I held the Sun to my breast as a greedy miser; desperate to escape the cold, loneliness of the past. I burned myself in its heat and I blinded myself with its light until I could no longer see anything but memories of days gone by.

What did the Sun do? That day I learned that the Sun's light is for everyone. That the darkness follows us all. The Sun is so bright that it can see the beauty that I couldn't. The Sun is so warm that it turns the barren wasteland of the coldest heart into all of the love in the world when flowers bloom and trees blow in the breeze. The Sun is so much more than the love of a good man that was born into darkness.

So I let the Sun go.

And the Sun, it did set that night, it's parting gift to me the return of my sight and healing of my burns. With eyes that looked upon the World anew I watched it go. Our time together must have taken its toll on the Sun as well because as it sank to sleep it seemed bruised; purple and red and blue as if it too had been battered by my greed. I whispered an oath of my undying love and devotion to the wind in the hopes the message would be carried on the horizon to the Sun's ears. Then I turned and I returned to the darkness that had been my home; after all, you don't expect a sunset to admire you back.

But that isn't the end.

No sooner had I turned my head than I saw a something emerge from the dark. Beautifully tanned skin covered rippling muscles from torso to head where two massive horns curved backward in a spiral. Soft, brown fur covered the legs of a mighty beast that seemed ready to pounce at a moment's notice. A lopsided grin twisted his mouth and melted my heart as this beautiful Satyr let out a bellow of laughter.

"Beautiful man," he laughed, "Where do you think the Sun goes at night?" And he wrapped me in his arms and I felt complete. I felt whole next to a love that matched my own. I felt every drop of his light pass through me as our lips met in a kiss dominated by passion. My soul was sated. "You only need let go, because even the Sun needs a break from the darkness."

"Will you stay?" I asked.

"Not forever." said the Satyr, "But for a time. For a time. And then the Sun will have to rise again."

"What will I do then?" I asked fearfully.

"Always remember that the sunset does admire you back." he answered.

My Friend

Will you be my friend?
When daylight fades to darkness
And I call you beautiful in the moonlight
Will you hold my hand?

Will you be my friend?
After everything and
When Everyone has gone away
Will you be the one?

Will you be my friend?
Everlasting and steadfast
When I stand alone against my own rage
Will you sing to soothe me?

Will you be my friend?
As the sun rises over the horizon
And your eyes light up my world
Will you see my smile return?

Will you be my friend?
 A lone voice above all the others
Will you help me return to Atlas' shoulders
When the weight of the world has gone wrong again

Will you be my friend?
After everything
Will you take my heart away and leave
Me and you against the world

Me and you against the world.
My friend.

Less Than Three

I can give myself to you

Body, soul and spirit

I can stand between sky and Earth

Grounding the Heavens for you to claim

I can summon Anu, Bel and Ea

Professing devotion to your beauty

Because it’s less than three

I can bring you light and heat and life

Through every atom of existence

I can protect you from mother, maiden and crone

Guiding you on the path of the warrior

I can protect you from seductions of lust, wealth and profanation

To keep your aura pure

Because it’s less than three

I can build your houses in all the realms

For you to make a home of hell, Earth and sky

I can create beauty in your name

Capturing essence in matter; the spirit of Godlike visage

I can offer laughter in grace and games for play

All to share in the joy of your being

Because it’s less than three

I can write verses

Symbolic, allegorical and esoteric

I can stand in the currents of life, sound and light

A conduit for all you desire

I can share devotion

From Druid and Poet to Soothsayer

Because it’s less than three

I can dedicate a sacrament

Thought, word and deed

I can live outside of time

Unrestrained in past, present or future

I can supplicate
Before the Creator, Preserver and Destroyer

Because it’s less than three

I can manifest reality

Length, breadth and depth

I can join magic, intuition and fertility

To bear the fruit of your invention

I can bring order

Combining power, wisdom and love

Because it’s less than three

I can capture treasures untold

Mirror, sword and jewel

I can claim armies for your rule

In the name of truth, courage and compassion

I can give myself to you

Birth, life and death

Because it’s <3

Beautiful Boy

Beautiful boy

Sleeping so soundly

What dreams do you have

In your peaceful night's slumber?

Beautiful boy

So much awaits

In the many days to come

So much life yet to live

Beautiful boy

My heart aches for you

For wounds already dealt

For hardships yet to come

Beautiful boy

Sleeping so soundly

I promise my best

And I hope you'll understand

Beautiful Boy

I'm always here

Even when we're apart

I'll always be with you

Beautiful Boy

So innocent and free

I hope you know

You're loved beyond measure

Beautiful Boy

I hope you know

Beautiful boy

I hope you know

What's in a Look

What's in a look?
Because I'd really like to understand
Why your eyes stab me in the heart
With a longing that can only be described as poetic

And your half-smile . . .
Thinning your (oh so kissable) lips
Conveying desire that my lips might touch your own
With a silent acquiesence why this cannot be

Your beautiful eyes
Touch me with sorrow
Deep and timeless as a black hole
Reaching across space and time
Allowing you to touch me in spite of physical limitations

In that look I know love
But no ordinary love can be seen so completely
In only a look
This must be the love of kings

A love that cannot be kept
No  matter how deeply shared
Its needs must with and surely die
Should it not remain free to grow

What's in a look?
All this and more
As I watch you walk away.

Emotional Deja Vu

The waves crash over me
Like an emotional deja vu
The memories rise to the surface
Just to pull me under
Holding me down until I stop kicking

All I wanted out of life
Every failure
Every dream
Every triumph
Like a kick to my gut

While a new Empire rises
From the ashes that remain
After I burnt it all down
A God to none
And king to even fewer

The waters closing over my head
Like an emotional Deja Vu
I'm going under ...
The waves crashing over me
Beaten against the rocks

Falling

Have you ever heard a soul cry out in the night?
Falling through the dark into the unknown
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Always remember
The best laid plans of mice and men
Pave the path to hell
Where saints and sinners wear the same robes
And the rosebushes have thorns
While the thornbushes have roses
The urge to jump in
Where angels fear to tread
Shall surely be the death of man
Exploring the unknown with
Fight or flight's knowing guidance
We run into the night, embracing forever's possibility
With just a nudge
As light as a breeze
The course of entire lives change
For better or worse
Through thick and thin
It always comes there and back again
Time is the thief of memory
Did I fall?
Did I jump, or
Was I pushed?
Falling through the dark, into the unknown

Black Widow

Words.  They're only words.  Oh, but we all know they're so much more.  I'd wager that it wasn't a face that launched those thousand ships.  It isn't a thousand words that are worth a picture.  No, it's the words.  They're power, and they're blood and they're life and death all at once.  And in the end they're all I have.  They're what keep me going, the fuel of my fire, what makes me happiest in this world--I'm like a child in a sandbox as I weave entire beings, races, planets galaxies and universes--so who could have foreseen that they'd cause me so much pain?  Who would have known that it would be words--no, not words . . . word--who would have known that a word would make me want to visit the dark places of my psyche that I haven't been to in quite some time.

You see, dear reader, this is the madness of my muse and as I told you in the beginning this is where you'll see my soul.  It isn't all fluffy poetry; here beats the heart of an artist and one thing you must understand about artists is that we tend to use pain as fuel for the creativity that drives us to entertain you.  Even now, my eyes burn with it and a rock resides in my gut, near my solar plexus as I process the events of life.  The love and the hate and how the two coexist in such harmony creating this thing of horrific beauty.  You cannot help but be entranced but your every molecule burns with the ancient instinct of flight; begging, pleading with you to turn away but you can't seem to do it because it's so beautiful.  Ironic, isn't it?  That love and hate should be the same thing observed from different precepts?  I didn't actually know this myself until this day.  The two are bedfellows and with the interplay of words--the intellectual intercourse between the two a world can be created that is a thing of beauty and a marvel of horrors . . . .

The bed was cold.  Interesting because it was almost 90 degrees outside.  She felt the icy chill run up her legs into her heart and she knew he was touching her.  She didn't cringe, nor did she moan with pleasure.  She merely lay there, silently praying he would stop yet somehow hoping he wouldn't  It was the juxtaposition of these two things that gave her the greatest concern; this, and the fact that the icy chill she'd felt a moment ago now seemed to burn with a fire that began deep within her.  She cursed her own body as she felt the wetness begin and she knew that sex was inescapable now.  She welcomed it, in fact and this knowledge made her want to cry more than anything else.  Still, she didn't move, forcing herself to lay as still as if the rape she imagined in her brain were real because that was the only way she'd get through this, to lay still and just let him do to her what he wanted.  She couldn't . . . wouldn't let him know that she wanted it to.  She wouldn't say no or stop or anything else that might stop his hands touching her.  Her brain was a trainwreck and her emotions were the casualty.  She felt sexual and sensual beneath his touch.  She wanted to feel his hardness open her loins and push inside her but she knew that she was the victim in this and she knew she must put a stop to it.

She didn't move.

His mouth was on her now and she cursed herself for gasping.  For letting him know how much she loved it, for showing how aroused she really was through her hate.  She instinctively pushed herself onto his lapping tongue allowing herself to relish this moment, this the greatest of pleasure she'd ever received from her lover.  She inhaled sharply as she twitched within.  Somehow, sensing this he pushed two fingers inside and sensually made love to her using only mouth and digits.  Slowly and carefully as if loving her with his sex he drew her closer to the pinnacle of pleasure.  She cursed him again and felt her imminent climax intensify with the fire of her hatred and anger.  How dare he!?  How dare he make her feel this good when she loathed him so.  Worse, how dare she let him?  What kind of woman was she?  Harlot? Whore? No. These words described things she didn't believe in.  She gasped again as these thoughts fled from her brain under his expert tongue and she felt herself begin to cum.  She pushed him away from her but suddenly felt unbearable pain at his loss and so she pulled him back in.  He didn't let up through any of it.  He made love to her, still using only mouth and fingers and now she was going to cum and she knew it.  She felt her climax begin to explode behind her eyes and the pleasure burned as hot as the anger.  She knew then that she had to be rid of both to find peace.

She moved.

She motioned for him to lay down on his back and she looked at him.  He was soft, and somehow she knew that this meant he was giving to her.  He hadn't been looking for his own pleasure.  Rather, he'd been hoping to heal her using the power of his love.  He'd failed and he might never know.  She decided this was a mercy as she gripped him at his base, gave his soft but ample form a shake and was immediately rewarded.  The blood rushed into him as involuntarily as her wetness had rushed into her.  She felt the familiar rush of excitement as he became thicker and she knew she was going to miss the way she felt, full of him.  Still, cocks were a dime a dozen and there were any number of boys waiting for a chance to get inside her.  She knew she'd miss him but ultimately, he was replaceable.  She wondered if this meant she was in a full fugue state separated from reality . . . but decided not to think about it.  She looked down and noticed she was on top now, maneuvering him into position and she allowed herself a small moan as he impaled herself on his familiarly rigid, thick form.  She sank slowly down and enjoyed his hands on her hips; they always made her feel so sexy.  She pushed the feeling away and resolved to find her own sex appeal from now on.  He moved her hands onto his breast and her anger got the better of her and she grabbed the nipple and twisted with all her might.  She panicked when the blood came, but the panic wasn't due to what had happened, it was due to the utter elation she felt.  She twisted more and now the blood came in a gout, dark and thick.  He was unresponsive and she wasn't sure why; though this was secondary to her now.  She simply did not care.  She felt him throbbing inside her and she moaned louder reaching for a pillow.  He welcomed this and pulled her hands down positioning the pillow on his face.  He thrust urgently as she pushed the pillow down over him.  His movements were erratic and his moans loud.  Irritated she pressed harder.  The thrusting made her cum again and she felt her wetness run over him like a dam being broken.  She groaned louder moving her hips in time with his spasming body.

He didn't move.

She pressed the pillow tighter over his face, and worked her hips over his groin.  She gasped as she came again; finally able to relax now that he'd stopped moving, stopped moaning and stopped thrusting.  As her orgasm subsided she felt a warm, moist rush enter her and she relaxed softly.  His cum filled her and she smiled.  There were fewer feelings as good as this one.  She knew without knowing how that she'd never feel a man inside her again.  She didn't care.  She knew that she'd had the best men had to offer and she knew they'd damaged her irrevocably.  She'd done what she needed to do to be okay and she felt free.  She moved the pillow from his face and looked into his eyes.  They stared up, lifeless and empty; beautifully blue and breathtaking.  A drop of water fell into one of them and she was puzzled.  She felt her face cautiously and was sure now, it wasn't water, it was her tears.  Anger, pain and remorse flooded out of her and fell onto his face.  Laughter burst from her mouth.  It was over now.  Finally and completely over.

He didn't move.

You Wouldn't Like Me When I'm Angry

I can see you, my old friend
Built of fire and ice and rage
I can see you and I can feel you
You've served me well these many years
Provided survival through pain
Healing through scars
Warming me like the fire of the sun
Now, amidst the storm in the heart of such a sun
Comes the night. 
Steady, friend
The Dark must come before the dawn
So too, must come the knowledge of the end
You've served me well these many years
Though now such service comes to an end
All balances have been cleared and
All debts are repaid
And so my old friend
I must speed you on your way.

One Last Fight

"I came, just like I promised." the voice was soft and trembling, though not from fear.  She knelt down, placing her palms on the tops of her thighs in a gesture she thought might look regal and hoped it didn't look supplicating.  She smiled at this.  What a thing it would be to submit to the dead!  Her smile turned to a muffled sob as she realized he would have found it funny too. 

The tears fell as she looked up, away from where he lay, and remarked that this was a holdover from the past. She'd been unable to look at him when she was crying for years.  She always hated that and a surge of anger flooded through her at this realization that she was still unable to look at him.

"Damn you!" she said, loudly causing several birds to take flight and this made her laugh again.

"You're such a jerk." she said, looking back at his resting place.  All she saw was the cold unyielding stone that was all that was left to mark the presence of a man she felt so dynamic, so much larger than life.  She stroked the top of the stone and felt a fresh, raw surge of sadness at it's cold, unyielding surface scraping against her skin.  There was none of the warmth, softness or hidden strength that she'd felt in his arms as they'd wrapped around her, making her feel safer than she'd ever been.

"Not a jerk. You're an asshole!" her anger rose again.

"You left me. You left us! How could you do that you selfish prick?  Did you know they ask about you every day?  Did you know we all cry ourselves to sleep with-"

"They really ask about me?" came a voice making her jump up so fast that she bumped her head on a tree branch.  She whirled around ready to give this intruder, this stalker a piece of her mind---how dare he interrupt her grieving---but the sight she beheld caused her knees to buckle.  It was him. 
Defying all logic and all reason, he stood before her.  She felt her knees go weak and she clenched her fists vowing not to faint, if for no other reason than she hated women who fainted at shocking situations.  Though there was an honest fear that if she fainted he would be gone when she came to.

"Brian?" she asked in the same soft and trembling voice she'd used when she'd arrived.

"In the flesh." he said, flashing a lopsided grin that had always made her melt in life, but now his flippant tone did nothing for her.

"You can't be here." she said, her tone incredulous.

"But I am." he replied, his tone light.  He came closer, a literal spring in his step and he enfolded her in his arms.  He felt her melt into him for just a moment and then her coldness took over and she shoved him away.

"WHO ARE YOU!?" she screamed, giving into the shock.  His face fell, the happiness dripping away to fear.

"I'm Brian." he said,

"Babe it's okay."

"Don't you 'babe' me!" she spat.

"How dare you!  How dare you do this to me!" she sobbed, and did, at last fall to her knees, though to her credit she didn't faint.  He touched her shoulder gently trying to reassure her in that infuriating way he'd had in life.

"You're dead.  You died.  We buried you.  There isn't any resurrection.  You can't be here."  Her voice was now desperate.  Her need for this to be true was equal only to her need for it to be untrue.

"All the more reason you should be happy to see me." he said gently.  His voice shook, but it wasn't fear or sadness, it was . . . effort.  He was straining.

"Well I'm not." she said with finality.

"I understand." he said simply, but his eyes pleaded with her for understanding for acceptance.

"Why should I be?  If you're here then there are a handful of reasons why," she ticked the points off on her left hand.

"One, you're really dead and I've finally lost it, which would mean I was far more dependent on you then either of us wanted; if I've somehow resurrected you in my head to help me cope.  Two, you aren't dead and there's some kind of elaborate reason you faked your death, which would lead to some extraordinary thing like 'Witness Protection' or some other shit like that which would mean you came to say good bye; which means I'm about to lose you all over again and that's just the shittiest thing you could do to a person.  Three." she choked on the word.

"Three, you've been genuinely resurrected which would imply the existence of something that had the power to do that which would mean my entire belief system (or lack thereof) is wrong.  Now, which of these people do you want to be?" she looked squarely at him, challenging him to declare himself as the harbinger of her mental infirmity, and insensitive clod or the proof of divinity which she denied.

"I'm Brian," he said simply, stroking her hair.

"I'm the Brian you know and I came to say goodbye, that's true." and then he laughed, loudly and deeply, a belly laugh that reminded her of watching him play with their children.

"And I'm in awe of you. As usual." he said smiling.

"So, you're real?  And this is what?  It is a witness protection thing?" she said, her eyes icy, but within herself she couldn't deny how happy she was to see him standing before her.

"I'm real.  And I've come to say goodbye my love.  But the rest . . . " he trailed off.

"Oh no!  Don't you do that!" her voice was angry again, and he laughed again and this made her even angrier.

"Why are you laughing at me?" she cried, her anger giving way to tears once again.

"Look at you!" He said,

"So beautiful, so full of fire, so sure of yourself that even given the final goodbye that no one ever gets you're picking a fight with me.  You're a joy to behold." his voice then gave way to sobs and he grabbed her hands.

"And I don't know how I got here or how long I'll be here, but you have to believe me.  I came for you.  I came across time and space and death and reality just for you.  Just to say goodbye.  And you're fighting with me." he gave a little laugh at that last,

"I can't believe you're fighting with me."

"I'm not trying to fight." she said softly.

He stood, his energy crackling with intensity.

"Well of course not.  I mean why would you?  I mean, it's clear you're just trying to cope with something you can't understand because it's inexplicable.  Do you think I wanted to go?"  his voice returned some of her anger now,

"Do you think it was fair?  There's no fairness in the Universe.  This is all there is."  He reached out and touched her breast, over her heart.

"And it was enough to bring me back to you.  To say good bye.  So.  Say it."

"No." she said defiantly.

"No?" he asked, hardly able to comprehend.

"No," she nodded,

"I mean why should I?  I don't know what you are or why you're here or if any of it is real.  What if I don't want closure?  What if I don't want to let you go or say goodbye because I want you here always?" she touched her heart over his hand,

"Besides.  You're not real.  Jerkface.  You can't be."

"Oh I'm real." he said and his hands were on the back of her neck and he pulled her into a kiss.  Long and deep and slow.  She did melt into him this time and though her eyes were closed she was aware that he was glowing and she knew then, without knowing why that it was ending.  She wrapped her arms around him desperately.

"No!" she screamed,

"No don't leave again! I don't even know why you're here."

"Because I am," he said,

"Because the universe is big. It's vast and complicated and ridiculous and sometimes, very rarely, impossible things just happen and we call them miracles... and that's a theory.  But it's something you can believe in that doesn't require faith.  Theories can be proven by science." he winked at her.  The light surrounding him was blinding now.

"Or disproven." she said.

"I'm going to miss fighting with you." he said.

"I'm going to miss fighting with you." she responded, reaching for his hand.  He reached out though there was no longer any solidity to his form and her hand passed through his.

"No!" she cried.

"No, no, no." she repeated it over and over again, mournfully.  Sinking to her knees once more, placing her palms open on the tops of her thighs staring at the headstone that would once again be all that was left of her lover, her partner and her friend. 

"Goodbye my love." she heard him as if from a great distance and she closed her eyes against the tears.

She was still for a long time after that before opening her eyes and standing up.  She glanced at the stone that was all that remained and she whispered his name, giving it a lingering touch.  She knew she'd never know if what happened was real or imagined but she had to acknowledge that whether real or imagined the experience had left her feeling something she hadn't felt since he'd died.  It left her feeling loved.

Happy With You

21 things I want in a lover?
I'd be happy with you.
Imaginary Prince making me feel loved
Illusory lover showering upon me affections
As a feast to the starving
O' to be in your arms!
The very idea intoxicates me
21 things I want in a lover?
Such a paltry number to the man that would make me feel thus:
Made of star stuff
With eyes telling fairy tales and
A head full of dreams
Though tread softly for
This is what it means
To love a dream
And in the dream comes the lesson that
From a dream one must always awake.

21 things I want in a lover?
I'd be happy with you.

Musings of the Mad

Welcome to Musings of the Mad.

An ill maintained, rarely updated and deceptively literary stop in the world of wide webs. This project is the direct result of my best friend, partner, and lover asking me to write more poetry, coupled with the fact that it is National Poetry Writing Month (April 2012). The crux of the dilemma is that I am not a poet. Poetry is merely one of the forms that my art takes. I am a writer of all things. This corner of the world of wide webs is my home. It is where you, gentle reader, will see my soul. Light and dark, good and evil, love and hate . . . and every extreme in between are the fodder for my words.

I hope you enjoy it as much as it makes you uncomfortable. I hope you'll forgive false starts and incomplete stories and thoughts. After all . . . this isnt' supposed to be polished work. Remember these are the Musings of the Mad.