Amaranthine (Camp Nanowrimo 2017)

 

amarathine-flower-web-page

Who am I to drink in love’s sweet wine and take its life-giving miracle?

Who am I to deny my end when the raven leaves its feather at my door?

I am only human, so I am no one.

Therefore as a human, if I deny that my love is as hollow as a dead elm and is just as diseased, would it make my longing more bearable?

Or as no one, would it simply be a fact undeniable?

 

I alone carry a love that ages to perfection like full-bodied French Syrah.

Yet once my love is breathed into another, the fruit rots and the wine is spoiled.

What good is my love if only I can partake of it; that is, if only I can drink of its richness without the grape itself spoiling within my body?

 

Is there someone who can savor the intensity that is my desire?

Someone who can breathe its sweet hypnotic aroma?

Someone who can taste its deluding lushness?

Is there someone who can partake without slipping into anguish’s arms under the beautiful guise of Euphoria?

 

No, my lush Syrah will remain untouched and continue to age

So that I alone will know its strong scent

I alone will know its flavor and twist my tongue at its pleasurable bitterness

So when the raven drops its feather at my door and I hear the bells toll in the distance,

I will be human and I will be alone…

 

-Harli V. Park-

Urrg, having skipped that one post has been a pain to think about. I really have been suffering on the scheduling train. I can’t tell if its too much to do or that I lack ideas. Probably a combo of both, but I managed! Day 14. This was a rough one. Hopefully I’ll have a better start this week and not feel like crap. 

At least you guys are enjoying this, though. So many new people! Makes me happy! 

Hang in there with me! It get’s better once I feel out how my schedule is going to fall! 

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Ballad of the Midnight Girl

the_weaver_of_starlight_by_wanderingbohemian

The Weaver of Starlight by Wandering Bohemian

She wakes alone, eyes wide and filled with the evening stars

Her skin capturing the glow of neon and chrome as it lay bare

All deities spying down on her as the vibe, the craving, the ardor take over her

It makes her rise slow, the threaded sheets sliding down her breasts

Like Egyptian silk slips through fingertips, like soft cerulean water over white sands

Giving view of her as she raises to heights and highs

Her bare feet touching the floor though never her heels

She walks on the balls of her feet in quick procession

Her fingertips, that know more of laying out men and women than Venus herself,

Lay out the white dress that lets her become the color of man’s desires under any light

She pulls from her closet to enter the night world. Continue reading

Predator

You reached out to me

Your hand outstretched in a certain curiosity

Like I was an exotic thing in the petting zoo

You were not ready for what I could do to you

 

Serves you right Continue reading

Star-Crossed

Ill-fated

Collision in the wake

Of misconstrued madness that is

The universal zeitgeist

 

 

Crawling at slow pace

Disintegrating; integrating

Becoming and knowing

While what matters disappears

In ways that matter cannot

 

 

Are you listening?

Continue reading

Hanging in Revolution

 

Inner peace… 

 Unobtainable when the world is turning 

 Spinning on it’s axis as I spin on your axis 

 Challenging your rotation with my perspectives 

 And balancing your magnetic fields instead of my own 

 

Yet being tangled in your revolution I’ve lost the balance of mine 

 I’ve forgotten the field of light 

The auroras that used to be my magnetic pull 

 And just how gorgeous that phenomenon was 

 The phenomenon that was me… 

Continue reading