Woman of Promise

i feel beleaguered by the vastness of promise
that was conferred upon me as a new creation,
had i been contrived as nothing more than mere mortal woman,
i, perhaps, would not suffer the strain of consciousness
of that which is in my power to achieve.

i am weary of my power, though,
regardless that it has aided me in attaining
that which should have been beyond my scope,
i ache for inconsistency,
i long to pass the hours of my unending acquaintance with self
as a nymph who owes only the world
the grace of her beauty.

ha! alas,
i am obliged to place myself to great use,
and the mountains quake and the sea recedes
in fear of my passing,
"take heart," i say,
"i shall be a graceful conqueror."
and in turn that which inevitably falls under my rule
bows kindly, for naught can begrudge me
the fulfillment of accomplishing that which was always
solely mine to procure.

Want for Retribution

once upon a morning of desperate fervor
born of rage and thundering menace
oddities ride the shadow of a bloody sunrise
anger ignites my soul to blazing brands

this world of cruelties and untold woes
my ire consumes to righteous ashes
avenges the fracture of innocent gems
tears down monoliths of pain

the fantastic shroud falls
from a waking vision of fiery wrath
and unreal yearning to be endowed as the powers that be
that possess me in the wake of humanity's agonies

A Haunted Heart

he walks the empty filled streets, hearing only the echo of his footsteps amid the thunder of a thousand walks. there exists only himself, haunted by a deep loneliness. an empty heartbeat is his only companion.

it has been a year since sadness befell him, and the magic of the enchanted stirred within. how can days be so empty, yet teeming with life? oh how the halls echo in his empty cry. her image haunts him, and agony halts his step, heavy and daunting.

she is his destiny, and she denied him
he cannot have another, her place can never be filled
when will this road paved with pain ever end?

the hopes within have withered, there stands only a weeping willow amidst.the future only reveals darkness, he sees not a minute to it.the shadows play pranks creeping about, shaping her ghoulish figure. the air of fairy wood paints her vividly in his mind. he longs for his tribulations to empty forth in a flood, but not even a trickle will oblige him.the coffers of the weeping will offer him no solace.

she is his life, he walks the realm of the dead while living.
he cannot embrace another, she only is his comfort
will he be ever free of this dungeon of the forlorn?

In Search of Lost Laughter

my muse, my inspiration, the grail from which flows my youth, why have you abandoned me? what has chased you away? I am crippled, limping - my mind travels to the depths of a broken spirit in search of you. why have you abandoned me?

all I have left is your residue. I am incomplete. I know not true joy when you are gone. jubilation dies as it bursts forth aborted by pain. I will the ground to open up and swallow me every time I cannot find you. you used to tell me jokes, and hilarious notes. you used to make me smile by myself when you reminded me of pranks past.

return to me, only you can heal me. I will go to the ends of the earth to search for you, if that is what it takes. I would tear out this aching heart that locks the door to your prodigal return, but it is where you reside, it is from where you feed my happiness. Return grace unto me, erase this nightmarish agony that haunts my waking moments.

whisper distractions into my ear, I need them, this pain consumes my every smile.

return to me, only you can uplift me. I lie at the bottom of sadness, alone.

whisper happiness into my ear, I need it, I am distraught without it.

return to me, I beg you! return to me...

Path of Realizations

upon this highway of assumed privilege I walk, not yet fully realized, the miracle of my existence
grace accorded me from birth, a richness in poverty bequeathed.

I watch as earth wealth souls hurry past me and stumble, they look to me with eternal pain
my feet are bare and cracked, I curse my lack of treasure and never notice the velvet path laid for me

I watch vanity filled souls stagger past and fall into endless chasms, yet I curse my lack of charm and attraction
I long for these empty fatal pleasures.

my vision is veiled, I fail to see those who walk upright are crippled,
their souls imperiled
they ride a juggernaut to impending doom
one from which painful lashes and love have held me from

the path is snatched from beneath
when an epiphany opens my eyes to the world
and realize I must now build my own path
lest I stumble to the sidewalks of lackluster

I realize I must rescue the fallen in my path
and rekindle their passion for living
share in the sheer joy of lack, and its misery
be grateful for inherited generosity
share it with lost and starved souls

and in the end, the gem that is my joy
is only cut from the smiles of contentment
the peace unbroken spirits
and the words of a kindred spirit

Tribulations of Love

scripted predestinations

equations and revelations bombard my mind, I cannot hold the weight. company bequeathed me, a fresh page of hidden words and mysteries. the quill of life writes unexpected verses, full of anathema and exclamations. destiny and fate, a writ the heavens scribe. my heart stands upon a rail, I am not allowed to deviate from the path.

of beauty and fragrance, vanities and sweet palpitations, I partake. the road to agony is predestined. control has been denied me. I am drunk from this elixir, addiction to it will be my undoing. like a moth I am pulled toward the light, my fatal attraction. words tear upon my soul, every letter a stake to my heart. all grows dark, my path a road of spikes.

the cry

unscythe me before I bleed out
release me, I choke at the tether
unchain me, the iron burns
breath to me, this lack light suffocates me

Ascent to Amour

ritualistic conferences, and coaxed sentiments. the moment gains momentum, and she becomes iridescent. toasts weave the air with mystery while all else fades, fatalistic pairing grows beneath. adoring mists waft by and gives them wings. songs of the butterfly's flutter cajole their souls to intoxicating heights.

time stops and the stair to cupid's nest seems never ending. the mystery of her skin is unhidden, as silk hugs, pouring down applauding goosebumps. she purrs a murmur as fingertips call silently to hidden depths, streams of titillation flow from her every pore. a squeal escapes her as eddies travel up her spine. a whisper of vanities heralds a pain that bursts forth with pleasure.

upon the feathers she is laid, mystery heightened by her closed curtains. the buds upon her bosom rise to meet ice. the fires within burn at it, water flowing to drop on velvet petals, glittering like dew. with a parting, the flower blossoms, and the honeysuckle hovers close to consume the elixir.

Atonement

against the backdrop
of the western set forbidding star,
upon the faded sands
of a shore lacking principle,
the lone and reserved shade of a figure,
once tucked into the opaque retreats
of shameful recall,
has gathered before me in full form.
about him eddies brume of a like which suspends
the odyssey of the existent,
and through stolen doorways
in the corridors of time
arrives me at the misdeeds of my youth.

and the shade,
now the actuality of an intimate,
an agate, crafted into a likening perception
yet dissimilar in embodiment,
a one cherished through the dividing lengths
of expanses both briny and continuous,
looks coldly upon me.
"here," he says, "within the clouded past,
lie occurrences approximate to crimes:
caprice of nature,
which bred a ferocious neglect
for them who never sought your hibition,
for them who would have reveled
in the untamed essence you displayed
had you only trusted,
and too, you were brim of notions
that refuted the morality
engaged upon you from infancy,
indulgences that consumed your inner resplendence,
and compensated your anima
with a disbursement of darkness."

so confronted, with the backlash of a broken character,
the vengeance wreaked
upon faultless personages,
i kneel upon the crystal akin sand,
which bites deep into intentions
no longer used to such given praises,
and say to extinction and aggregate,
"the comportment i have affected,
in the generations since
the vagary of my minority,
has done little to find me solace,
no consolation, no dependable release,
all that has been accomplished
is the spawning of dissension
within my vital force.
i beg you tell me,
how then do i find atonement,
when i have become so estranged
from the certitudes that were once
eminently comparable to typical matters?"

Image: Anna Cervova, Sunset Sky, Public Domain Pictures.net

Dark Waking Dreams

the ground waves to salute my succulent bliss
its accent not without an unheard scream
the gauntlet has been served, its rim I will kiss
the portal to my waking dream

sirens call to me
why will that record not cease to repeat?
my sorrows chime and won't let me be
I will be naught to defeat

I go up the upside down stair
heaven will be my hell
despair my repair
will conundrums my fortune tell?

The never ending spiral my straight
upon the brink tribulations pour up to me
across the chasm I need a street
darkness boils scalding my glee

The path goes straight back to itself
sanity dogs me, taunting me to desperation
the ladder is too short, and reason stands upon a shelf
save me from this labyrinth of desecration!

Redemption of Grace

this elation is a beautiful high. I do not want it to go away
it is a rare gem to find
this laughter within longs to bubble out into the world
and rain on everyone

The tiny smile in front of me gives me this simple joy
her laughter touches the darkness in my soul and takes it away
her innocence is my second chance
and her eyes melt my every worry

tears well up in my eyes and I cannot hold them back
I take her and hold her close to me and she holds my cheeks with both hands
I look at her and wonder if she understands
she touches her forehead with mine and smiles

another bout of beautiful joy bursts from within me and I start to laugh
she looks bewildered for a moment then starts to laugh too
a beautiful tiny laugh that grows louder as I spin, holding her up high
and in that moment, nothing else matters, she is my second chance
........ my saving grace

A Yearning for Freedom

the air is slightly stale, and I am surprised I do not grimace to it. at least the floor is not very cold and I wonder at its rough comfort. the smell of leather will be my companion tonight for it is from the one solid thing I own here.

the yearning has not subsided, in fact, it is more intense now. I choke at the consequent emotion, and anger rises up my throat and I wonder if tears would help. I know they will not come to me, they have not for a long while. I blink at the darkness, willing my eyes to glue shut and for a second I muse at the curiosity of a certain mystery.... at which point my mind screams for light, but in a hushed voice, barely audible from even within me. the thirst for it is a contradictory need, as I yearn for this stifling darkness to swallow me.

the leg jerks at a touch, just as virtual grace steals me away into the summer heat, into square pavements bustling, breathing and alive... they will not come to me, and I shut my eyes so tight it hurts. a different breeze wafts in, carrying with it evidence of a basic human nature. I welcome its stinging distraction from my chainless shackles. my mind slowly lets go of its cyclic thoughts, a frustrating prison of tight unyielding polythene skin. I claw at it as it chokes me, tightens all around me, denying me air.

they will not come to me, I must be strong, the thread holding me is unraveling. is this the road to insanity? it cannot be...

they will not come to me. there is no shame to it. but still, they deny me momentary solace. should I turn to look? the glitter might be my window to mental freedom, it is light within darkness. but what is a drop of water upon perched lips, if the whole draught will not be mine.

they will not come to me, and another light steals me from within the darkness, though only for a short long while.

Trial by Fire

by Kerri Miller



I am withstanding the fire of lies
you have thrown against me.
Charcoaled black
I stand firm upon what is real.
The deceit you spread
comes toward me with little effect
or emotion on my part.

I am separated from you forever,
I dwell with the trusting and pleasant,
not the vindictive and dishonest.
Affected?
Sure I am.
But it feels so much better
being away from you
than it did having you near.
Your mouth pronounces words of gossip
and you speak of things you have no idea.

It was only one day
that you were my disaster
and now it’s a new day;
with my life ahead of me
I walk firmer than ever
more aware of what not to do.
Given the ability to see inside people’s hearts
I looked at yours
and everything was black
and why would anyone want that?

12-04-03

Image: Petr Kratochvil, Flames, Public Domain Pictures.net

Addictions

in all its unscrupulous splendor
and the pleasures of plunder
it deprives me of my tranquility
with its treacherous virility

I am bathed in its eerie mists
intoxicating and enchanting it persists
yet without substance and respite
my very being pursues it despite

the withdrawals agonizing and crippling
all is dark in the moment, the abyss grappling
then a momentary silence of the moan
with a faint hope it'll last past the morn