Aside the listless waters edge

Aside the listless waters of time
reflections fractured now stilled
in stagnant whispers of bleak void
an endless stream of magic borne
wars fought and promises sworn.

I see the contours of my soul on waters edge
Shimmering beneath the debris of existence
Illuminated by my darkest light
It reaches from out the depths of hell
to sooth the speckled witches spell.

But alas, I am neither elemental nor
celestial,
nor am I sister to Lilith or a soldier of the dammed
I am the waters curve, the rippled playground
as dragonflies dance upon my skin
stealing precious nectar for their King.

I am the reflection the mirrored voice
the distant echo of ancient blood
essence skimming on luna tides
the silent eyes suffocating in vivid blues,
drowning in the scent of knowing truths

I am the fractured, stagnated waters
curdled by minds descent
I am the Illuminated body of tides
empowered for my ascent
I am the lucid astral plane
the love of which you dreamt
I am the reflection, rippled in pain
I am the reflection, owning my pain.

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Speckle me in dandelion seeds and set me free…

She’d always known she was the Weed, the wild flower growing between the cracks in half shadows of doubt. Never had she wanted to be the rose, except perhaps its fragrance and its soft hues of summer promise. But, no, she was the daisy growing wildly between lush blades of green grass. She was the dandelion dispersing seeds of herself on the evening scent of burning wood and she was the white clover, although she’d never admit to the fourth, petal shaped leaf that she hid beneath her smile.
Yes, she was happily the weed, growing in adversity, weathering the storms and nourished on the remnants of life. Surviving between crackles of static in rigid rips of concrete and across picture perfect canvasses where the roses stood, lonely, untouched, their wilting petals decorating the floor with death, their scent dying, their pollen stolen from beneath the blush red velvet blanket of their existence.
No, she was the white petals of survival, the yellow flesh of stubbornness rooting her to a cause, she didn’t need admiration to grow
Wild flowers need no nurturing
they simply exist between the vines
of splaying ivy and fierce troops of nettles, speckles of colour weaved between the muted greens of a druid yesteryear all myths, ancient remedies and calls of luck, the wild stems of hope growing in the dark shadows of dying rose petals wilting without whispered promises of entitled worship…

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Lose me in tender touches

Will you pull me in?
Gently press my cheek
to your chest
Curve your fingers across
my hip,
skin on skin.
Will your fingers slip
through strands of
my hair
As your leg slips between
my thighs…

Will you let me fall
for a moment,
be nothing
for a millisecond
Just let my soul
rest,
safely in the cocoon
of your arms…

… Before I rise
once again.

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The ancient pull of aura

It tugs at me
pulling at strings
caressing thoughts
embracing shadows
There’s a part of me
that isn’t sure
a part that coverts
reincarnation
pondering
synchronisation
not peas in a pod
Noooo
Not similar
not the same
More like two
sides of the
same coin
Yin and yang
a mirrored reflection
Yes, the same source
and the missing parts.
There’s a part of me
that isn’t sure,
that we haven’t kissed
before
on times path
along some far of
sandy shore.

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Haphazard whispers of love

*Shh*… ould we?
I mean can we?
I’m tangled in a web
of your desire
caught haphazardly
on your tongue
the curve of your voice
as it entwines through me.
Can we?
I pull at the ancient sticky
essence that seemingly
binds us
I wonder,
were we ever unbound?
I sometimes call
defiantly into
the dark abyss of stars
like I did that night.
And you always answer
as you did that night…
my defiance quenched
for a moment.
Yet I still find
myself pulling
and tugging
at that string…

… I guess it might snap.

…or I might discover
your soul has been at my
side the entire time.

Only one way to find out.

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The swirling scent of lavender

Squeals of delight as
cool water hits warm skin
wet splashes on hot concrete
evening air scented with
lavender and eucalyptus
summer petrichor

Heatwave Central

Does it make me a traitor to the cause
To say…
Are my words stained in ancient curse
If I declare…
Will I be banished to the outer realms
for my freedom to speak?
Am I a hypocrite?
I’ve spent my months, my weeks, my days
demanding it.
And now, I need a reprieve
a moments cooling
s seconds shade…

… Or rain.
Anything to cool the heat
this heatwave is bloody insane
staying cool is all in vain
Scorching Heat all through the day…

An ally to the cause I’m not,
This weather
Is just too
god damn hot.

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