Tag Archives: dreams

the sword is a weapon of love, a poem

illustration sword is a weapon of love illustration sword is a weapon of love globe hand

The Sword is a Weapon of Love

(originally published in Stark Raving Sanity)

 

Brutal insight into a relationship occurs when the beloved

vomits in the bed… what can be borne, is, what cannot, dies.

Onslaughts of clarity come in the small hours like chest pains.

Can love survive endless trips to buy food?

 

Control your feelings — tie your hands together behind your back,

don’t pick up that stone.  Family is a genetic firestorm, shelter

yourself in a den carved out of solid rock.  Money is what creates evil.

A man I know lies whenever he can, if it will save a buck.

When you cannot decipher the callings of your heart

and soul, listen to loud music.

 

My grandmother left me a pair of silver goblets, which I

refuse to polish… I drank out of them on my wedding day —

they turned black instantly.  Beware of men

with black hair and dark eyes.  Beware of men who covet

objects of beauty, including you.  Their first

priority on the list of acquisitions is marriage.

 

When you have two opposing desires, do nothing.

Do first the one, then the other, if possible.

Take both paths simultaneously, and lie to everyone.

 

Beware of men who accuse you of interrupting.

If you fast for a day, you will experience quick and forceful change in your life.

The sword is a weapon of love. To be cut is to love deeply.

I know a man who hanged himself. His wife cut him down with his own sword.

 

In the bathroom, use lots of soap, feel emotionally cleansed.

Watch the moon, record it daily, change the color of your hair often.

Let the vines grow over the top of your roof, they will

penetrate your attic and a small wilderness will evolve over your head.

 

Always have a globe nearby to help you feel small.

Whenever you are embarrassed, take all your clothes off.

This will help you to remember what is really important.

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Filed under love, men, mysterious, poetry, relationships, sex, soul, spirit, spiritual, women

 dreams & wishes & the plain truth, a poem

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Dreams & Wishes & the Plain Truth

(originally published in Eclectica)

The man you dreamed up

was like an animal, a confused,

restless animal that didn’t know

what it was.  From one angle,

it looked graceful.  Other times,

it bobbled and bumped in the night

like a blind cow.  It had to be fed, and often.

You never knew what it would fancy–

sometimes plain mash, once in a while

something with a burnt sugar crust,

and lots of whipped cream.  It made noise

constantly.  Whistling, burring, keening,

but never in the same way twice.

You found yourself wishing

it would run away of its own accord–

since it was so unusual no one would take it

off your hands.  It would look at you

out of eyes so swollen and pale

you’d think it was dying,

then it would kick back its head

and bray and bray, music, ringing

through your ears like jittery strips of tin.

After a while, you wanted to kill it. 

Go play in traffic, you screamed,

don’t speak in metaphor, don’t scratch

until you make scars.  The shabby quilts

where it nested called out for mercy.

Still, you hissed, Do something with your life!

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June 1, 2013 · 4:19 am