man...

i must fill my days with dreams and fantasies;
nothing has meaning except these moments
of pure escapism penetrating edges of my sanity,
skirting reason and defying rational thought…
finally only perception and memory matter…
as the world grows bestial and barren.
belying the truth of stated hypocrisies that
we were created equal…

there is a vile stench of cynicism wafting through
corridors of corruption as
i face your dour expression daily
and hear the denigration spew from you;
for i am not required to perform, only to endure…
that makes me insignificant in your eyes…

i am only a vessel to be filled by you…
pursued, shot and stuffed and
mounted on a broad altar where you sweat and toil
posed in bas relief within your phallic dreamscape…
you discount my humanity as scalable against my worth…
you view my tears as liabilities against power;
you insist upon beauty and youth and innocence…
without which I become indentured to indifference…
against the backdrop of your subjective memory
i cease to exist…

as i slip underneath the glass surface where the view
fragments and closes in myopic splendor…
i am lost inside an aging body whose youth fades with
each step down toward the bottom;
the inversion cannot lift my spirit to meet your omnipotent
disdain of me and my wretched grasp
upon your reality—your vision of the state of man
and his subject—woman…
so if you deign to tolerate my presence,
you will only dream of long-legged beauties
whose loveliness inspires you to write lyrics
or soft lines of sweet poetry…
while you ignore the richness of me who has
lived and loved
and who knows exactly what you need to make you whole…

man
prism gates
ja allen

interludes...

unyielding uncertainty summons a sense of depravity…
manifesting itself as intense unease measured
against the backdrop of a throbbing beat and an insistent voice
calling me out from the back stoop where I inevitably wait…

always torrid want shimmers in the distance, an oasis of desire…
i try to unwind stretching heavenward to achieve release,
final climax from my torture….
outside my range of vision,
you stand forever unreachable,
holding me at arm’s length as a form of retribution;
admonishing me to wait on the edge until it is my time…

i weep inside wanting you so much that my mind fragments and
bits soar away on the echoes of drums and strident chords…
when i cannot wait any longer for your unspoken promises…
you acquiesce, stripping me bare…

soon warm tears will mingle with those of humility as you sink
into me and let me feel what I have dreamed…
i will always want more because you never give me enough
of the essence that is you…
the words of your mantra…
daring me to deny you and walk away…
are pointless when you know I cannot….

you realize i can never be filled
yet you allow me to suffer with the belief that I can;
that there are limits to longing…
that eventually the flame will extinguish itself and
settle for sanity…
when you know it is not true…

there is no end of the road for me…
only one tortuous journey after another
as you toy with me and my adoration,
placing strictures on my love
as you wait for someone better—someone
who loves with purity and honor;
someone dancing in the arms of romance and idealism…
as you wait you throw me scraps of love
As each of you tread on me on your way to tomorrow…

interludes

prism gates
ja allen

the stone...

i discovered a small silver stone shaped like a heart beside a miniscule
pond near the edge of my secret garden
where I spend my days in solitude masquerading
with my muse…and my nights
dreaming of love, lost long ago and far away…
the stone throbbed in my hand as I held it,
glowing in the amber light, shimmering against my pale skin…

i caressed it softly, treasuring
its smooth, cool surface…
it promised to stay with me one year and in that year
to make me whole – to teach me to love again…
it whispered to me of strange lands and foreign customs;
while gently intoning its heavenly chant…
assuring me always that i am lovely, desirable, and adorable…
scolding my reluctance to believe...

i secured it at the end of a gold chain resting between my breasts
next to my heart where it listens for each
inevitable beat, each tremor of longing, each sigh of release…
as i make my way through from night until morning…
it knows me intimately and stands watch over my moods,
coaxing me to relax and learn to trust again…
to believe in tomorrow and have faith love will survive even
time and distance…
for true love never dies – it assures me—it sustains and grows,
breeding contentment and peace…

when i enter that state of belief, the stone stills and waits
for my joy to expand crowding out
any residual sorrow. i sleep always with the stone next to my heart
assuring me i am loved;
it synchronizes with my breathing and sits inside my dreams,
guiding me to safe places where we can stay together forever
inside my secret garden where reality waits
by the gate, wanting in—demanding entrance…

the stone is delicate and thin, made of the rarest and finest
of earth’s compounds…
so i must not caress it too often or hold it too long because
the surface may wear away and the glow would die…
I take each moment and press it into my memory storing it all
For the day when it leaves and i am alone…
i am filled with love again and the joy of loving without boundaries
or restrictions…so when the stone finally fades,
i will be able to walk to the gate and out into the world….

the stone…prism gates
ja allen

rage...

Reaching out, my hand brushes your thigh
Triggering explosions
that I cannot silence…
enigmatic energy that is at once intimate and small;
Yet vast and eternal…
Like my soul crying out beneath cold water…
I implode with desire when you touch me;
Shivering, awaiting your retribution…
The fallout of your anger and your uncertainty
For you do not trust me with your love
So I die with loneliness—as the distance between us
Bleeds red hot with your fury…

I grow helpless with defeat…
Weary of the constant struggle
Not to incur your wrath and your scorn…
Your severe criticism of my words,
My thoughts, my attitude toward you…
Then suddenly you turn and love me…
Gesturing me inside where I gleefully flee for the moment
That it lasts because in that instant I live
And my soul soars above the insanity…

The return to distrust and ambivalence
Occurs when I try to say any thing of substance
Or hold you too long or too close…
You back away, suddenly reminded of who I am
And what I represent in this tableau…
This purloined pageant of life
Represented in this holistic horror of existence
Where I am a shadow on the wall,
A whisper on the wind—a fragment of broken glass
Ground underfoot…

rage...prism gates

ja allen

approbation...

cold seeps into my pores, hardening my heart into nihilism;
deep ribbons of uncertainty skirt riveting soul hollows…
as the icy fingers of doubt massage my resistance and I sink into the
frozen abyss where duplicity has iced the murky surface…

i watch myself destroy you,
piece by piece,
reallocating the love you offer to the aged coffin…
while you burn like torqued
chains of resistance, impeded by your
desire for me…by your love and your innocence.

i take them from you because i need them;
i need you to feed me
reason and sanity as i sift the porous seeds of desire
that well inside you and carry you along…
always holding out the promise of fulfillment…
the lie that will never abate…

you can’t see beyond the promise – even though
retractions of innocence and denial
remain in full view beyond the oblique lines;
yet, you mistake them for love and devotion…
i know you do love me without reservations…
i count on that to fuel my needs and
flesh out my desire…

i watch you change who you are and who you should be
into this sham of surrender bowing to me,
to my intense desire to be loved and held in esteem…
you are so far above me, yet I deny you your essence
if it means losing mine…

as an act of attrition, I release you and beg you to move on,
to allow me this final dignity and consolation…
let me go, let me go to where I belong…
let me give you your life back to live as you deserve
in peace and harmony with your youth and the promise of all
the gifts you possess.

I need to be absolved of the guilt of you,
of all the dreams I embraced where we
belonged together – because it was never true
and only i knew the extent of the lie
that i perpetuated in this elusive world where I held
you in my arms and looked deep into your soulful eyes…

approbation...

prism gates

ja allen

the gift...

I weave words without whispering about the wishes that prompt them;
i close my eyes and feel the effective nuances that fold them within;
they transcend to light the world around me and give it meaning…
then I offer my gift to you…
i wait and watch for the subtle signs of approval to illuminate your features,
a smile, a gesture of acceptance, a word of appreciation…
and i take these tender gifts and shelter them deep inside my soul where they shine…
and make me whole…

Each day i weave and wait for your approval…each day you accept my gifts
offering me praise and promise…
i am only as relevant as my latest offering to you and only as
meaningful as your response…
the joy of you as you find meaning inside my words and love
inside my countenance are all that matter in this world…

then the day arrives when you no longer look into my eyes
with warmth and acceptance;
when you no longer acknowledge my gifts or find meaning
in my words – i die slowly and with great pain
as you rip my soul from its essence and fling it
into the darkness where nothing exists…
for i do not live if you reject my words
or deny their existence,
I am nullified, without meaning or purpose…

you tell me that your expectations have altered…
that i no longer move you…
you deny me what I need because you can—
it is within your power to execute me;
now each day I awake and build another tablet of longing
awaiting the final estimation of worth…
only now you pretend you received nothing—that
the words did not exist…
that you never saw them or read them or understood
the naked intent of their construction…

you offer me emptiness and negation…
i am relegated to nothing…
deep inside this void is assurity that the ceaseless
denial will continue well into the next
plea upon deaf ears…
my gift is left exposed on the counter where
a clerk will surely dispose of it…in due time…

the gift...

prism gates

ja allen

idolatry...

do i worship you?
wistfully wishing, always wishing for more…
that i might encompass you, surround you, devour you
but only as one sweet morsel at a time…
it forces you to offer me moments;
a sweet taste upon my tongue…
your fingers brushing my cheek
or touching me so deeply…until
i shiver inside and feel
the weakness descend
convulsing the calm surface of my passion…

i dissolve into nectar
golden and sweet
and slide down your throat
i become the rain drenching you,
quenching your eternal thirst…
i cling to you like skin and
hold you together…
nestle in your sighs,
whispering my love in your ear…

none of it enough to fill my need…
the deep ache of you continues
to rack my body and steal my strength
until i feel i shall expire with longing…
how can one soul need so much…
how can one man offer enough???

idolatry
prism gate
ja allen

circulation...

your measured phrase, precise, poignant
counters—juxtaposed against the
jarring cacophony of my endless complaint…
my words, like bursting vessels, short
circuiting, skirting reason,
kill kindness with a scalpel,
clutched knuckle white,
wielded like a machete…
on this page my whispers reverberate
with rage as i pen with blood,
my soul undone…
it’s not that i’m sick to death of living…
i am wary of death and the lack of suitable
oxygen to breathe.
the burden of creativity has furrowed hope
into arteries, to collect and
stagnate on the surface where my mind clogs
with collected waste…
there is too much to simulate, to orient into reality,
into patterns that appear and disappear
until i cannot control them…
the images come and go superimposed,
blurred, imperfect; and i cannot locate
the truth and its negative…
i struggle; i have no choice…
until my mind shrugs and i have lost
another precious hour…
for what?
for this—for living in reclusion,
back against the walls,
afraid to live, i create my own world,
wondering why i had to reject yours…


circulation...soliloquies
ja allen

escape into you...

your eyes lift slowly
to meet mine…aware
at last of the urgency of the hour…
as minutes tick in rhythm to my heart,
i can no longer swallow, sinking…
until you meet my gaze and
smile patiently gesturing me forward
with a crooked finger

i fly at you after
yearning all day…finally it
is time…you move like silk
around me, peeling away layer upon layer…
brushing your cool hand across my body;
caressing me until I feel ice water shock…

in the hot spray of the shower i
wait for your embrace, feeling
the chill of your fingertips along
my spine…and the soft heat of your body
pressing me against the cool porcelain.
i weep softly as you cover me,
stretching my arms high above my head,
teasing me deliciously with your tongue…

but again you make me wait
even as i plead, trembling—imploring
you…you kiss my eyelids and tip my head back,
kissing my mouth until I can no longer stand.
sweeping me into your arms
you deposit me onto the bed…

where i sink into silver memory
down into our sanguine melody…
as you enter me, i gasp and clutch the edge,
finding your mouth, tender, soft and probing…
i feel myself diminish
growing smaller against your power…

i reside inside your sensuality,
i recede into your subtle psyche
where you absorb my essence
and incorporate my resistance into you…
slowly i fade away until only you
exist, inexorable, supreme, undying
on the threshold of my dreams…

escape into you…
ja allen