Chased By Ghosts

chimerapoet:

Turning back…..one year ago

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

woman-hiding-in-abandoned-room-jill-battaglia

I am being chased by ghosts 

memories that land on your head like bird droppings without warning

only an unexpected stomach clench and you are off again

reliving the same old same old

watch his hand closely as he moves those shells around 

trying to see the tells in time to walk away

game over this time ha ha so long suckers…

how long will those phantoms pursue me

 how long will I give them leave

to curl into me and pull the string in my back

I envy the stone statues in the fountain

cooling water and granite

nothing shifting and writhing inside

no reminders

that they once developed a taste for fire 

and was nearly burnt up

I am that smoldering girl no longer

I drove until the road ran out to reach a different time and place

a different way of being

a different me

yet no…

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Discarded Heart

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

If you had asked for my heart I may have thought about giving it to you on a trial basis
but you never did
and the wanting you to grew until I was offering it at every opportunity
without words
 with words 
in the songs I listened to
 with my eyes
because the more you didn’t ask the more I wanted you to have it
but promises never made are delivered already broken
 and my discarded heart
slumped on to the floor
and an ocean moved inside me rising through the cracks
I watched you when you didn’t notice and tried to read your face
as if it were a manual and spent the night plotting
and the days planning
what argument would win you
how to daub your eyes to make the scales fall away
until one day I tired of my own inventions
my own conversations
and watched…

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Once Upon A Time There Was A Girl

chimerapoet:

One year ago…….

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

atlantis-sinking saul espinosa

Once upon a time there was a girl
she was in my class in school
a gypsy some said
she was not beautiful
she was sometimes dirty
mostly she was silent
but when she spoke it was to tell strange stories
about disappearing islands and crystals of power and flying underwater
the playground sages twirled their fingers around their head
and whispered cuckoo
then went back to their kickball
I tried speaking to her once
in the park near a stately old tree
but she seemed sad and didn’t say much
just traced the bark shapes with one grubby finger
and looked to the sky
there was a terrible storm one night
with winds and driving rain and lightning fracturing the black
the neighborhood houses were in darkness but through the clash of storm cymbals
a flash of surprising laughter pierced
swift as a bubble bursting
and just as quickly…

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Emptied

I have left my lungs in a box wrapped in crinkled paper
and slid under the bed
carefully
because every time I breathe it hurts 
and I think it is because there is nothing
no desire left
to hold
the air inside. 
My heart has deflated and sits half smashed in the dark and small space hollowed out in my chest
like a nectarine left in the bottom of a vegetable drawer too long
hidden under pizza boxes and losing its juice and color
running and slicking into something sweetly foul….
I sleep with your letters close to hand so that the pain and I don’t have to wait for reuniting each hard won morning.
Like a sore tooth I must keep pressing knowing that the hurting only ends when we are finally torn apart and I am afraid there will only be shredded Kleenex to fill the gap, 
that the bleeding will never stop….
When you promised forever the sound of my joy rising up almost covered the sounds of the serpent winding tighter,
closer.
And I finally ran out of space to hold all the empty promises, 
they blow around in the slightest breeze
although they do shine so prettily within that small slice of time allotted for my deliberate suspension of disbelief,
but the jars were overflowing
 and perhaps breaking them was the only way you could fit them all in…
Now the water is rising almost covering my nose and the scarf I wear feels suspiciously like rough rope especially knotted to break and swing
and still I stand motionless in silent dumb hope
with broken jars and emptied husks crumbled at my feet
still looking for the sunrise and a gallant rescue
because thats what always happens
in the once upon my time I whisper to myself.
And the whistling from my lungs as they flatten
 and harden 
can be heard from under the bed
like the last train signal as it leaves the station
and any chance there was left of a further journey
steams away.
©jayetomas2015
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The Goddess Series

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

Lady of Cythera ~

Rising on the whitecaps

foam born

she shone like a pearl in the dawn

and the waves washed through her

and washed over her

and washed over her

until she was full of the sea and the sun

and all things that gleam

and the doves polished her and the myrtle scented her

and she was beauty

 

 

The Lady of Ephesus ~

In the pewter twilight she comes

fleet as a hound running through her forests

and her bow sings and the cypress sway

and justice flies swiftly from her hand

she rises with the moon

and like the moon she waxes and wanes

and only she decides what side she will show 

as the hills echo with the roar and beautiful fury of her lyre

 

The Lady of the Harvest ~

Red berries in her hair

 poppy on her lips 

the goddess…

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Hidden Music

Originally posted on Chimera Poetry:

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Can you hear it?
Can you hear the music she asked me
her eyes burning out of her ivory face
It’s underneath
it’s between
you have to learn what to listen for
you have to try
you have to be willing to go
she said shifting in her shackled jacket
I heard the music in my dreams and then it came to me at other times
and I learned to ride the sounds 
to let them lift me
it’s beautiful there…
and she settled back and hummed a little
then tilted her head like a netsuke mouse
they are singing for you
can you hear them?
Listen…
and reader
I listened
God help me I listened
with a tired patronizing air
and then I it
and I heard…

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Tell Me

Tell me how to read the secrets etched like runes upon your bones
the story written in the lines of your face
the palimpsest of your hands.
Tell me the mysteries in your abyss,
those submerged in the deepest pools
dammed in your mind
locked behind doors of iron and molten nightmares.
Tell me why pretending is a drug to you,
why it caresses and intoxicates you and you bury your name and need in it.
Why you scrawl over and over again
on walls 
on doors
on scraps of paper blown through the streets,
“Forget me
forget my scars shining like a river in the deepening light…
Forget the touch of me 
that taints and burns.
Turn your heart and soul away, walk with no faltering
or else I may grab and hold on and lose us both….”
Tell me how you were made,
what dark and shadowed madman breathed over you
waking you?
Did the composing hurt? 
Were you brought forth in pain and 
in the sweating, shuddering birthpangs of an otherworld changeling?
Tell me
teach me
I want to learn your source
the very Nile you sprung from.
Tell me how to read,
to decipher,
your secrets
your stories…
Tell me how find the key
to unlock your wrapped and rusted chains
and set you free.
©jayetomas2015
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