Wide Shut For Sixth

Out of that darkness, that pitch of oppression,

Out of that blackness, that void,

Out of that dank trap of timeless cessation,

Fluttered wings fully deployed.

Flapped they with fury till furies they fled,

Eons of hostile subverted,

Out of the dungeon where demons have bled,

Their intentions subtly diverted.

Out of the abyss the albatross flew,

Chains still swinging from claws,

Stronger the wings that have practised harnessed

Though aerial given to pause.

Out from down under, down deep but not out,

Out from Cerberus’ grasp,

Felt in the darkness, eyes rested shut,

Earthbound by blindfolded task.

Up through the channels, tunnels truncated,

Veering, uninjured as such,

Instinctively seeing, hearing the light

Guided by sensory touch.

There to the high plains, a leap with all faith,

Rattling links still attached,

Power encompassed in breadth of the stretch,

Night, by flight, fully matched.

Sometimes in darkness, especially in pitch,

Only blind sense will suffice,

Failing the five, depend on the other,

Wide shut for eye of sixth sight.

 

I had written the first eight lines of this yesterday just based on ‘out of’ then left it to brew. In comments with Paul I happened to mention that I close my eyes to see better in the dark, which is true. I don’t really know why I do it but it feels more natural to sense my way through darkness than it does to try to see. The rest was born from Paul commenting, by return, that it sounded like a life credo. Maybe it is. 🙂

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Sung of Trusting Hearts

Who do you trust with your heartbeat,

Your friend, your husband, your wife,

The one by your side, do you let them inside 

To caress and keep beats of your life.

Is their touch the soft hand of an angel,

The firm but the gentle with heart,

Can you trust that their love will secure it

And keep it from stopping with start.

Do their fingers pulse to your heartstrings

And strum all your worries away,

Kept alive by the touch of another

With heart massag’d lovingly each day.

So who do you trust with your heartbeats,

Be it woman or man of your choice,

Be it child or a friend or a lover,

Let them play you with touch of their voice

For the touch of an angel is spoken

In the words that fall from their lips,

Their blessing sustains all hearts broken

But, more, they protect it from this.

This feels like a song, it sounds like a song to me. The music is optional. Your own tune fits just as well as mine.

 

Loving Touch

Tracing limbs

 with lips

that savour sweetness,

saturated love

in slumber’s glow.

When the darkness

hides our dreams, 

or alters,

all we need is loving touch

to grow.

I need sex

Hold on…that didn’t come out right there.

But it’s more or less true all the same.

Let me explain.

When I was very young, I was haunted

By a spectre of religion. Or its mate.

I wanted to be holy or some such thing

I thought it was my calling. Or my fate.

I know I always wanted to be close to

The almighty. Or equivalent for you.

I thought that being enclosed inside an order

Would make all my wishes, or my holiness, come true.

I went along to nunneries and convents.

I really did! And checked the lot of them all out.

I window-shopped for suitability, you know, flavour

And questioned.  God, I questioned. Have no doubt.

I was listening to a spiritual advisor. A priest, you know,

A guy who wore his collar back to front,

But even with such strange attire, you know, well backwards, I ask you,

He spoke a lot of sense and helped this little runt.

He gave me some advice I still remember.

Advice, though unexpected, held the truth,

‘Go and live and love and seek the place where

God intends to use your life and youth.’

I wandered some and dillied while I dallied,

I even checked alternatives around,

Buddhism appealed and so did Judaism

Then I soon got my feet back on the ground.

I figured that my life held many mansions,

Rooms, you know, of quantity and worth,

I figured that I knew there was a spiritual,

Something more than dying after birth.

I figured then that love was all that mattered

And that touch was all important in that task,

That hugging and, you know, a bit of the other,

Would help me help myself and others. Please don’t ask!

I figured that the course on which I travelled was pretty good,

You know, I knew it inside out.

What was the point in swapping buses on the travel,

A travail I could then, as now, just as well do without.

It never stopped my interest, fascination,

With the myriad of ways we seek our goal,

The seeking, questing ways that many look to,

The wondering how to make our fractured whole.

But, I’m lost right now, I have to just admit this,

I’m crazy with the thought that what’s the point

If all judiciaries of all religions

Want to score and somehow take over this whole joint

This little earth, you know, the place that we all live on,

What if annexing and confusion is their path,

What if Cole is right and all the myriad ministrations

Only blind us all and conquer while some laugh.

I hate the thought that maybe there’s no answer,

That all we have is only THIS, this jumped up mess,

That warfare in its many conflagrations

Is all we get. I’m sorry, I confess,

That hope, right now, this moment, right here sitting,

Is a figment like the godheads in the plays of ancient Greece,

That faith and hope, belief in goodness, people,

Is a nonsense I adhere to just for peace.

I’m sorry, yes, I am, it’s not my custom

To be lost to hope while praying for our race,

But, Jesus, jumped up saviour of my childhood

I’m begging, even now, with palms upon my face,

Let there be a way where touch and loving,

The touch of thought, the touch of minds and hearts,

The touch of souls who even still are questing

Let touch, like sex, instil, let love impart.

Sex, you see, it serves on open market,

Does the job on even blogger’s space,

It’s hidden and it’s cloistered, we all do it,

Without it there would be no human race.

All the feckin’ fighting and the stories

All the angst, for what, I have to ask,

Who hit whom and what do you believe in.

Who gives a shit. Really, this our task?!

Touch someone, hug someone, have sex or chatter 

With a lover, I don’t mind the gender of,

How can any of this really matter,

We’re here and now and living. That’s our cause.

I know I’ve wandered off, I always do that,

It’s a problem, a solution for I’ll find.

Maybe in the haiku or the photo,

I’ll check them out with, always, open mind.

Love someone today,

Touch them, hands and mind and soul

Love. And be the whole.

quotesjpg.com

 

 

Acclimatising

Blame not

the cast of shadows

on corners closed to light,

But flame the torch,

sconced,

awaiting willing hand.

Trip not,

in hesitation,

cursing blunderous steps,

But feel cracked pores, crevassed pointing,

thirsting

for faith touch.

Idle not

in disharmony’s speculation.

Rather, murmur

faint remembrances

Till refrain

makes glorious your voice.

Fear not

the underground passages

dependent on your darkness for existence.

Rather, shelter there,

acclimating

eyes to gloom’s recognisance of faint shafts.

Interlaced

In prophecy, she comes to you,

dream beyond pannier’d delights,

floral fragrance, cocoa’d core,

soft and sweet, delicious bite;

warm to touch,

essential meal,

butter’d melt

to taste, reveal.

No crumbs of comfort,

hearty sight,

fulfilling pain,

harvest, excite.

Slumber’d eyes,

token taste,

supped crimson tongue,

refinement, interlaced.

Affinity

Guided hands feel their way,

Breathless sighs betray.

Fantasy fuels the ardent fire,

Two, transfixed, desire.

Immortal code betrays in flesh

Lovers touch, caress.

A mirrored need to seek the one,

Melded, they succumb.

Dissolving into liquid pool,

Tightened muscles overrule

All mental hope, facility

To rationalise what skin betrays.

Urgent passage to the place

Where blood suffuses; endless grace.

Crescendo in a wanton song,

Affinity where two belong.

Sensory Opiate

Petals perfumed for the purpose,

Sweetly scented just for us,

Scattered from above to rest abed.

Fragile flower fragments,

Tinted pink and white pigments,

Pillowing softly our two heads.

 

Subtly stirring in the air,

Bouquet of roses in our hair,

Drowsy opiate of love’s addiction.

We turn and gather close,

Bodies melding head to toes.

Soporific lovers’ benediction.

Soothing Pain

A tender kiss to temple

Then roving to thine eye,

Blessing hurtful visions

With lips and quiet sigh.

 

Soothing touch on fevered brow,

Damp sweat wiped clear away,

A world of hurt inside thy mind

Stroking fingers, gently play

 

A quiet tune hummed softly,

Harmony to pain,

Cool palms on shoulders’ muscles,

Easing aches and strain.

 

Quietude and haunting mood,

Dimmed lights to quell the heat

Of angst-filled soul and searcher

Of other one to meet.

 

A world of tumultuous, tossing thoughts,

Lids closed against the image.

Send soul on journey, ether bound

Beseeching, paying homage

 

To glorious need, a heart so pure,

Seeking understanding love.

My prayers are soaring at your side,

Sent to one above.