Friday, July 31, 2009

The Salt of You

i tried to touch the green of your eyes and find the tender center that is the sea,
the tides and moon that bind you in silver streaks, and holds the light streaming from your palms, find me,

then you grasp me with the moist mystery of your sea, and surround me in the dark amongst the tides and waves of your changing body.

somehow the shore that i became was jagged and desolate and my longing shattered
your waves, as the broiling clouds spoke the salt of your name.

a rage of light and motion defied the limits of your liquid presents, and the patterned stars lashed the rage of shoreline and sea, as

somehow you found me in the salt heart till i became the shoreline,
that held the crash of waves and the great deep heave of sea.

lost on the edge of the sea, waves weeping the stretch of rocks, that brakes each caress
that rips at flesh,

and i wrapped in salt and wind, finger the bleeding wounds, dipping my finger in and tasting the tang of renewal.

and your vision that swallows the sea, and your mouth that surrounds the stars, that in time and warmth liquefies them,

and the tides move through you, stitching your torn heart, and the silver of the moon reaches down and slowly gently touches your eyelids and your sea calms.

tide and current curl back into you and settles finding renewal in the warmth of your stitched heart.

until in loving convulsions the sea is pushed out, and the world blooms with the unfolding of shoreline and sea, with tide and light, wind and earth, all unfolding in
the tiniest crests of waves

and i, i swallow the brine, and wander the bolder strewn shoreline, longing for the silver running of your tides.


and my mouth measures your being, slides along the burnt parts of you.

and i taste smoke and soot, blood and lust, sea and brine.

and in your taste you embrace the contours of my mouth, and find the loneliness of my hunger.

and you surrender, cascading your dark hair down the contours of your pale back.

and you tried in your way to quench me, and my mouth drank in your sharp breasts and the shoals of your hips.

and in the emptiness of my mouth you abandoned your body and my tongue tasted the sea, and the brine,

and still my mouth burns with the sting of the salt of you.


in the wilderness of your eyes, i became lost in those dark orbs, a voyager breathing the silver wind of the moon, as the fingers of your desire pulled me from my course,

and the pungent aroma of the sea filled you and my eyes counted the absences between the stars and the winds of my desire.

tides and currents and pelting storms of brine spiced my heart, and stitches the long wound of my silent passing, head down tasting bread of the passing sea.

and your aroma of seaweed and foam, fills my mouth and i am nourished by your heat and the precious spices that your body gives up.

and no one knows that sea and storm whisper and embrace, and there mouths meet and in there hunger devour there passion till thy bleed the birth of sun and sky.


you and i love, entwined in waves, still the salt sea tangs my mouth as your watery arms create the circle of your tide, and the foam that you are encompasses the longing of waves, as your tears are the sorrow of blue sky,

and the curve of earth and sea bind together in rage and passion, and the salt that spices hand and mouth, that drifts in the lunar tug of your desire, becomes the tides,

and each wave each gale strums the longing of sea and earth, and the deep brine that becomes the blue,

together bound by salt and tide, we undulate and the stars streak the night and the silver draws from us the dark as the tang of sea

unravels the binding of us of sea and salt, of tide and sky,

and the tug of the moon draws her seed from the sea

and the eternal cycle of sea and seed completes itself in the binding of us.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Time and Change.

time a dry sea that washes through the fiber if every breath, of every heart beat, of every soul. we all sail, or voyage, or swim in this cold all encompassing sea.

time, the eventual ticking down in measured rhythm, constant, monotonous till for each and everyone of us the ticking stops and we are each devoured, drowned by the ultimate silents, the everlasting sleep of oblivion at the silted bottom of the salt sea of time.

we are time. bundled around us and strapped tightly to bone and muscle, sinew and breath. we are a stitched together bundle of moments, fluid and seamless, moments and experiences, feelings and hopes, dreams and possibility, grief and laughter, woven into each of us,we are a pattern so intricate so original that each is distinct from the other. no two are the same. so unique, it is impossible to reproduce a copy, the copy may on the thin shallow surface seem similar, but sink beneath this mirror and one will discover that the differences are vast.

we cannot be duplicated, time and space and thought and emotion defies the futile attempts of us frail limited mortals to transcends our essence, our bundle of body and blood, skin and emotion and thought cannot be reproduced.

each of us are a pattern unto ourselves.

unique and limited. we are victims of our time.

we are adrift in the salt sea of time, at the mercy of wind and sun and storm, at the mercy of tide and currents. this tumultuous sea pulls and pushes, tosses and throws us with its capricious whim. but all to one end, the same end we all in time embrace, we all succumb to the drift of time, and eventually we are sucked under never to emerge.

the salt sea takes us without foresight, without fore knowledge.

on rare moments a rogue wave will carry us to its great crest, and for the briefest of fleeting moments we catch a glimpse of the sun beating down upon the infinity of undulating waves on an endless sea. and then for one breath of a moment there is understanding and insight, but it evaporates as quickly and unexpectedly as it came.

time has a conjoined twin, change. as time moves through us and we move through time, change weaves its fabric into the very root of our essence. change and time are one, one does not, can not exist without the other.

life is so fleeting, so fragile, and in constant flux!

the universe, stars, planets and constellations are in constant motion, and constant change. on a cellular lever every particle that makes up our physical body are in constant motion, and constant flux.

this dry sea of time, we are unable to grasp. we in our arrogance attempt to capture and tangle it in our trembling finger, but time billows away as if it were thick dark smoke, or a mist so thick it clings to us but defies our desperate clutching and clawing hands

in this sea we are unable to find a mooring, a safe haven, a port to rest in this inhospitable expanse of dry sea.

at best we can cling to a belief, and illusion, but even the strongest held Faith cannot hold back the tides of change. it is inevitable, the the callus sea of time will alter, bend, erode, twist, contort, and even destroy what we believe to be solid, to be unchanging, to be for ever.

what ever our mooring, whatever we cling to, whatever we believe, will inevitably be altered by the constant rub and crash of the tides and waves of time.

the tide of my sea has captured me in the wake of its silver gale, a storm that has tattered sails, broken ruder, and has tossed this voyager on a tumultuous sea.

i scramble to make some seance of this maelstrom that is casting me about. i cling to some tattered remnants of who i am, and where i have been, and where this storm will take me.

i am a voyager, and on this voyage i have grown gray, and have diminished in strength and vigor, the ravages of this sea as weathered my face, aged my soul, scared and mutated my spirit, yet thow my sails are in ribbons and ruder is splintered, i master my despair, repress my fear and anxiety, and voyage on.

time and change has captured this voyager, and now, weakened, tired, and old, i surrender to time and her sister change, and to the will of this unforgiving sea.

i will travel where i am taken, embrace where this undulating sea takes me, and take joy where i can, find Solis if possible, and seek the warmth of a kindred spirit if i am so lucky.

but change has taken hold, and all i have the strength to do is to ride out the remained of this silver storm,

and hope that for the brief remainder of this voyage i am able to find some joy to sooth this tattered scared soul.