~.:a little bird:.~

Bent, malformed, too small to see, They writhe and beat and try to be free. But stuck within, they rot and die, til dried and black, they crumble inside. And leave, they do, small sacks of death, Brokenness, and blackened breath To spread disease and misery And taint the bones and kill the breed. And so to death she falls, they sing, The bird-girl born with broken wings.

The subtle curves and gentle dips intrigue While shadows dance and swim along your bones. Stretched tight, apparent in your light fatigue, The softest nude, the loveliest of tones.

Your whispers are so dark inside; They gleam and shimmer and catch my eye. Deep pools of empty, bliss, and calm, A warming touch on nights of long, A soothing stroke, a whetted tongue, Far echoes of our bells, un-rung, So soft and silent, cool and clean, The peace of heart, the scent of green. And lay I here in your dark words, This refuge from a fallen world. Keep out the day, keep out the light, Let only in the breath of night. And come inside your world of dark, And let us melt our naked hearts.

When Trees Love

In the forest, behind the trees, I try and hide my humble leaves. A fear of knowledge and of courtship Led me here to taste the rose hips. Bitter? Sweet? My sense is numb. I cannot speak, for I am dumb. My screams and cries I cannot utter, Though other trees can moan and mutter. And whisper they do as you draw near, Creeping slowly on my frontier. What malice is this in your motive? Or desire you think you can give? And yet I open my leaves to you, And let you drink of my morning dew. A breath, a kiss, I breathe you in And feel the eyes of my jealous kin. You hold, you cherish in dark and rain, And then a knife you do proclaim. You carve in me a word, your name. At first my heart, and then I came, Though just to please and to appease you. Yet, you of men I thought were few. For no one can give here to trees, Our branches brambled, our feet ugly. Our bark is rough and oft misshapen And when we love it leaves us shaken. For no one can give here to roots, And mine are tall and trip your boots. And you cannot give here to eyes, Though mine are great, my only prize. Yet then you complimented far And won me over against my guard. And with my fruit I fed and filled you, You who spoke, and you who knew. And you who let my branches bend To give you life, the son of men. And you, and you, and you, again. And you were who to whom I lent These branches weak with thorns and thistles. And yet that night, you gave them kisses. I drank of you, that night of dark. And in my blood, you left your mark. Pin up, bring down, "Relief," you say, A crack in such a beautiful day.

How sweet the Flowers Fall For thee, How Humble in their dainty dance. their lightness and Fragility does Hold the eyes but For a glance. and though Harsh death of Humankind Hath pluckt them For its selfish schemes they live Here on in purpose mind, on Fingers soft, on bed of dreams. How Happy do the Flowers Fall, their life now giv'n on joyous day, and catch the Feet and love the Hall, How Happy do the Flowers lay. and when they're crisp with brittle bones Happy they'll be to have but Flown.

Perfection

Of darkened thorns and jagged stains of moss, A sanctuary torn, forgotten now. The ruins cracked, a spider's web of gloss Surrounds the mouth where naked sinners bow, Or once they did but now they do not stand, Mere skeletons with skeletonic hearts. All flesh has melted off their bones, and land Has drunk and tasted sin and fear and dark. A toxic poison, strong of seed and milk, The essence made of bare humanity, Intrudes the ground, infects it with its filth, And kills the rose with infertility. The lethal drug of life lives on inside The gates of this dark land for you to find.

Acting Out

a little bird of broken shade whose dark wings fade and cries are heard by ears employed, indifferent, and cruel. her owner rules and feeds--enjoyed-- on sweetened flesh. the feathers stick, and make him sick; their souls then mesh, yet he knows not and lets her little bird body rot.

Blind: Puking Shards

Sometimes the wind blows in the dark And rain, it whispers to a stop. The land drinks up the water of sky And stars then shine and glisten and sigh From ground, their prison of earthly bonds, Entrapped and caught, a love without song. And gone, come morning and burning sun-- A power too great and freedom none, A god controlled by nature's will, As little choice as the lights it kills. And gone they are and gone they'll be 'Til night restarts its symphony; A shudder, a crack, a moan, a spark, And then the wind blows in the dark.