Flowing Cups

I drink deep
from your endless flowing cups,
blood rivers
from your hearts deep with no end,
from your milking breasts
streaming freely,
 and still I drink deeply
and will
 till I spill over

Streaming from my breasts
between my legs
my veins, my cup
flowing through the cracks and ravines

Still I shall drink from yours
and one day,
be drunk upon
just as ravishingly
as I swell and surge from your overflow
into the cups held out..

My Body
a tribute
for you who come before me
after me
..and so on..


To sing my Song

I left my strings
deadened and silenced
grown stiff with disuse.
They grated and screeched if forced
or squeaked a little pitch.

Sometimes, in moments
when I forget myself,
a forgotten tune, I hear.
Beautiful yet plaintive
I wished to claim it for myself
But, it is beyond my little self.

Oh, how desperately I wanted
to sing my song
to ripple across the universe
with the rest of the chorus!
To be heard, to be seen, to be loved.

And so, on I grated and screeched
till I built a crescendo of suffering.
From it burst forth not a twang
of broken strings,
but an epiphany,
a crescendo of euphoria.

The heartfelt song
that took over my strings
from nowhere and everywhere
was a throbbing melody
of sweetened tears..


Wrathful love

Bare hands,
she tore through her flesh.
Head hurled back
a blood curdling cry.

She wrenched open her ribs
snapping and separating from sinew,
a gaping black hole,
and the bird whipped out.

She couldn’t fathom the beauty in the gore.
The little blue bird
speckled in blood rubies, iridescent
light caught on its feather tips like diamonds
eyes dark whorlpools of infinity
 breast resonating a song
deep from the bowels of the Earth,
a blinding fire glow on its path of flight.

She danced amongst her entrails..
weeping a river of joy,
precious drops caught swiftly
by a drifting wind..
as she took flight
in wrathful love.



Headstones covered in mists,
smell of wet Earth blanketing the dead.
Do I hear their whispers left behind?
Rustle of leaves
Sighs of the wind
Oh, you who have gone before me,
What mysteries do you see?

Across the edge of the known world
I yearn to follow
a gnawing hunger for the unknowable,
for eternity, for dreams of Dream.

Oh, those who have departed,
brothers and sisters of Life and Death
lead me to the boat of glass.
A voyage beyond the edge of the world.

Apprehension and wild anticipation.
I dance away
in the graveyard
of Birth
haunting only
to the Living dead.



A marionette daughter,
perfectly coiffed hair as her mother likes,
dressed in red to be seen and adored.

 Eyes cast down,
bowing to father,
smile not too wide, not too small,
talk not too loud, not too low,
walk quietly, no running or mucking about.

Obedient and muted,
a doll for the dress up,
for the feeding and repeating
lovingly what father says.
Otherwise put away
in the cupboard
fully adorned
only to be showcased for a selling..

Once a bid has been made
she is drowning in attention,
love and affection.

A crack on her porcelain skin
as she realized,
she has only ever been cared for
to be given away..



Sunlit smile
beaming through the open Window
cool Breeze
 fluttering through the curtains,
 bashful like a veiled bride.

Sensual perfume filled the air.
I feel her threading between these fingers,
whispering by these ears.

Don’t be shy, I say
Slip between this breast
Speak through these eyes, these lips..
with every twist of this body,
in quivers of ecstasy and nerves
take possession of me.
Muse of my heart.


Tattered Corners

The tattered corners of herself
blown away to faraway places,
places only heard in desolate echoes.

She sings a dirge
as she trudges along
the jagged edges of the world,
into the yawning chasms,
collecting the bloodied and shredded
scraps of herself.

With tears washing the blood clear,
She sews herself piece by piece,
skin onto the bones
that bleached in the parched desert.
Stitch by stitch
She sews the shunned, forgotten,
stolen and torn edges together
into the smoothed edges of the unblemished,
burnished parts of herself.
A mottled skin of chaos incarnate.

Over this self,
she hymns the deep call of life,
ululating all and nothing,
and wakes up
Beauty and the Beast.


The Moon and the stars

Night crisp air
Wispy hair tickling the wind..
The Moon
reflected his face so close,
I could pull silvers around my fingertips
and touch them to my lips.

One lick and I am drunk on him.
Defenselessly open to his caresses,
his sweet scent, his smile
His breath in me..
Nakedly drinking deep draughts
of liquid Moon down my throat
like a babe latched on a milking breast
slaking an unending thirst.

Stars whorl around us
pooling in our eyes
reflecting and refracting
a kaleidoscope of memories
as I lay down on him,
entwined in Remembrance,
pregnant in Ecstasy.


The Axis of the Earth

Take the light of the sun in the dark,
and the one that’s hidden shines back.

Without the moonshine,
the sun would not know
the darkness that shines for him.
Without his light
her moonlit beauty would remain ever lost..

That eternal dance across the sky
of one shining for the other
since time beginning..
is worth
spinning for.


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