Friday, December 25, 2009

cremation blues...


shame shrouds the silhouetted labyrinth of longing,
cloaking all avenues of relief,
revoking any residue of rescue...
the lies and betrayals line the pyre
soon to be memory’s charred embers
denying the essence...
the truth of any moment we shared
built upon fabrication and fantasy
in the urgency of constructing perfection...

as the fire of your anger consumes layer upon layer,
thin filaments of love float away
higher and higher caught in the upheaval
of heat and turmoil pushing the
accusations over the top, boiling out into
an atmosphere where infected
hate breeds its intolerance and spits out
the contempt left at its core...
a sinister stump of insurmountable detestation

the death of trust breeds loneliness;
the rust of exposure that erodes
adoration and love into serial suspicion;
no one returns whole from the
ceremony of disavowal where deafness rules
without arms of forgiveness...
where the only path allows for one alone to tread
back to the beginning...
standing alone in denegation and degradation...

the cavern deepens with each step;
until the firmament gives way under the weight...
i shift trying to see the lines you drew;
but the tears blur my vision and i am lost,
no longer able to discern the Truth you outlined...
my heart only harkens to the love
that connected me to you, now blackened,
tarnished and hardened in the furnace blast
of the hatred fueling this cremation...

cremation blues...
ja allen
prism gates....

Thursday, December 3, 2009

killing me softly...


in the background strumming softly, fingers grasping,
caressing the slender neck of his instrument...
he slides his hand up and down, bending the fret,
eyes closed tightly, anticipating that exact moment

when he hits the sweetest spot, allowing its quiet vibration
to sink in - underscoring mood;
hesitating to let the feeling go...
knowing he can never recapture it exactly
the same way again - tantalized by the plaintive note...

she watches his tender mouth - the way his lips part
as he reaches the chord’s climax,
mouthing words under his breath over and over
in rhythm to the internal cadence he feels...

beads of sweat appear on his forehead as he bends
toward the strings, plucking them separately
for a moment inside the soft drum beat and acoustical rhythm...
she waits for the moment when he lifts his almond eyes
to find her watching him make love to her with his music...

his gaze sweeps the cavernous room, observing
but not absorbing pulsating pressures
igniting the flames of passion and pleasure as the piercing
note floats like a roar over the forest floor...

the baritone begs for mercy and release as the
bass pleads for more in a cresting crescendo
with bodies writhing and spinning inside the rhythm
entwined in each others arms waiting...
the lone note slowly subsides as he stops the vibration...

the crowd erupts with applause when the soft melody moves
to the fore - over-arching the electric moment
stilled but not forgotten as connoisseurs stir in chairs
restless, anticipating another high...

he moves back into position, finding a rhythm fragment
he molds into his own carrying it forward
swaying gently, caressing her neck again softly,
his fingers finding corners and curves
making his way up and down the steps of the movement....

killing me softly with his song
ja allen