Muse Alice

Underneath the 12 glossy-eyed masks
of Judas,
I found out you were only
rainwater
with an Irish whiskey chaser.
So I tried to forget
and instead fell on my ass,
somewhere between
a tremoring hangover
and a trembling dance floor,
grinding ya right,
lifting you up towards
the sky.

So wet,
dig deep,
find me out
until I shift again,
and you won't
remember my name,
I will make sure of that,
serpent skin,
howl me back,
let me go,
thrust into me until you get off,
then I'll leave you,
quicksand and in the night.

Lingering fingertips,
kundalini magic rising,
I wake you up,
you shutter with pleasure,
again and again,
I see fire and ice-
red and blue vibrate,
unite together,
inside of you,
inside of me.
Move with the current,
energy electric,
some sacred sexual
tempest
funnels through me
into you,
jolting your mind open,
light shines
between us in the dark.
Angels awaken to the sound
with Cheshire grins,
and the moon gets pleasure
from the sight of it all.

Sex and Sorcery

I dreamt of sorcery.

You died in your sleep

while Mary Magdalene

feeds the mockingbirds outside her

window and cries herself

into dreaming,

red robin

tied to a lamppost.

Night sweat,

dancing out

the bass,

sex and public stonings.

I lean in,

change your history,

keep you going

to the rhythm,

slow and steady, honey-

I make you wait

cause Im good at that.

Create the difference

you crave to see,

live aloud and fuck it.

Give in

or make do,

teacups with coffee in them

and lace lingerie,

black with pink bows,

fishnets,

and those boots you like.

Let's lift each other up,

we delve further

into time,

deeper inside the ocean.

Honest sacrifice,

the hanged man

swings back and forth

and you laugh

until the key fits

into your locked door.

And there,

standing in your

narrow-minded hallway,

which you fucking built

all by yourself,

is the goat with a grin

and death,

snickering at your expense.

I had a dream

Trembling alone,
I awake.
With a rush
you enter through me.
It was tug of war
with the monster,
crows flying low
in the daytime.
You looked up and to the left,
tilting your head slightly,
kind of reminded me of
what Oscar Wilde might've done
when trying to think
of the right word
whilst holding a brandy.

Dive in,
listen to the heartbeat,
reminds me of the house
we lost in the winter
of my early adolescence.
Now she
holds her head in her hands,
Pregnant scares
and Captain Morgan.
She prayed to a tornado sky:
God, I'm not ready.
He didn't answer.

Late nights dripping in
the moon,
we surrender
to the four walls
and the blacklight stage.
I entertain you.
You will miss it,
when the shadows come.

Nightmares wake us up,
we reach out in
the darkness
and find we are alone.
And yet,
I recall the soft touch,
the whisper,
the breath
heavy on my face.

Blackbird

Mister Blackbird,
believing he's a Phoenix,
performs Hari-Kari
in the shadow
that the moon makes on the earth.
I dance in his ashes
with my voodoo dolls
and lack of morality
as formally declared by The State.

War crimes,
suicide hotlines,
C.S. Lewis prays
to a fatherless God
and his friends
pretend not to notice.

The "Mary Me" mythos
takes another life and
I wake up in a bathtub
holding an empty bottle of
Russian vodka-
a pyramid tatooed to my forehead
and without a fucking clue
as to how I got there.

Feast of twin flames

Forecast the rhetoric of the dying,
the saints gather in their shiny
cathedrals and gossip on
the year of the dragon and the
fornicating serpents that ring
the tower's bell.

I came from the deserts of Moses
and the swamps of New Orleans.
Chained to the Lord's table,
I stammered a prayer aloud
to Mary more for artistic vision
than begging for mercy.
All too much mathematics and cost efficiency,
not enough dancing souls and circus training.

The barn's burning,
the moon's howling for redemption
from the witness of the past.
Cave in,
Create her just as you want,
watch the fire lick her insides,
separate her from the angels.
She lies under the dirt in the ground,
sorrow swept through me with a smile,
and I laughed to myself.
The man in the corner
looks up from his black coffee
and top hat and just stares.

The government and Moon's last battle

The oil swells up in your lungs and you remember the faint taste of metal. You dance to forget the burning. Falling birds like the sun in my dreams breathes me fast like a drive that beats me into submission-metaphorically speaking-the moon rises in the east and winks. What is it like to have a serpent round your neck, ready to squeeze it out of you, drain you dry if necessary. The government will find a way to scare you.

Yet sometimes, what scares me more is what I see in you, writhing looking glass monster. What if the rabbit hole leaves you lost forever, never to come back to the surface, held by chains. Maybe some with their heads floating in the river want things to change. The violence makes me walking nauseous, constant ripple of sensations-You wake from a nightmare yet still the world of the real is just another dream.

What if Mary came to you, heavy angel, and asks to be released from the memories of crosses in the rain, could you look her in the face and say no? With pain comes openness to ecstasy and true darkness horrors in the shadows.

The Channel that Shakes

            I surrender loudly to the channel that shakes wildly in front of me. Open up to the doorways of the gothic icons, these Mary’s of saints and brethren keep spinning and turning till their minds are swirling in the dark as they curse the night, live up to the worlds above and below your energies- shift them into forces of shields and mirrors.

We rise from the covers, the curtains and veils, the see through blouses and black bras under yellow shirts. We glimpse through each other’s eyes and know that we are indeed connected, two birds sitting on a mousetrap- naked we blend in our space and create a time travel of our own.

The phantom marches on and you feel as if half of you is radiating light and the other an optical illusion or the truth found in a solemn moment. Gasp into me and we shall reconvene here and re-frustrate our potions, poisons, positions, parentheses. We lost our faiths and flaws while we were running through the muck and the mud, moshing it out like a renegade star shooting out of a black hole.

We recover our throats dry, our teeth ache and our limbs bruised and beaten. No matter the conditions outside, fuel on and the wind will never fail you. Dragons can keep their tongues shut for now, coming forth is the queen through and mirth she lay in golden surround-sound, lovely. 

Desires of Mary (Erotica)

I gave in to the desires of Mary, flowing in and out of her like water through skin. 

Welcome to the world of illusion and dream work, 

fantasies played out slow, steady, 

and healing our extremities in the colder climates. 

I cum and shout out time over eternity again, 
cold and hard melodies that pulse through my body,
quaking death and resurrection. 
Wanting your mouth on me so bad that I will open up for you and let you take control, 

totally and completely to watch me get wet and dripping.

I write juices,
in and out,
it just runs slowly,

 and the ink mixes all alike with my moans that shake the rafters of this fair assembly. 

 I already orgasm hard even before you suck me off. 

I’d love for you to be so turned on by my intense pleasure that you can’t help but touch yourself. 

I want so much to run my hands all over you that I don’t know how much longer I can wait. 

And you haven’t even fucked me yet. 

new poem: forget/ Rated R

Do you ever feel like you’ve seen things so horrible,

that you will do almost anything to forget these things.

I just want to forget,

I don’t care the cost,

the dollar,

the alcohol,

the girls and boys,

the styles and schemes,

the songs,

all is worth

the ability to forget.

There were spills and perfumes,

I don’t know,

I can’t remember,

dreams are so real,

like you could reach out

and touch them, you, me.

I suffer when you don’t hear me,

I can’t get that beat out of my head,

so much lost for the price of getting

one person’s attention.

Commit to asylums if you must,

but there must be a better way

out of this mess.

I just can’t seem to remember

the way out of here,

this hole, this tunnel,

this rock and roll hideaway.

I call to the gods of the west,

the hierophants of our remembrance,

the fathers of ghosts and shadows,

must stand and rise and dance into the light,

another time to help us,

once again.

I know I write so much lately,

instead of saying the words out loud,

to you,

but I have become shy and loyal

to the older version of yourself,

that faint glimmer in the mirror,

of a past life,

of brilliance.

Call to the goddesses of the North,

High East,

You are needed to calm the waters,

give us our patience and our strength,

Mary with her Jesus,

watching him give in again.

I sprang awake,

at the thought of war,

oh lord, it is too soon,

we are tired,

Great God,

but God insists to keep on,

though we are weary.

Call to the gods and goddesses

of the Southern plane,

Our native brethren,

call to our energies,

together bring out,

the New Age,

Aquarius is the leader now,

support will be needed for prophets,

changers and shakers,

bring us some ark angels to guide our

strange and weary way.

Prepare say Elijah,

it is the time of legends foretold,

We are coming,

these beacons of the light,

these demonized originals,

we shall rain,

in some hoards and dark nights are ahead.

It is the Mark of the Beast

that growls in the dark unknown,

let us light fire to his dungeons,

and raise him up to see in his eye,

We are here for only a little longer,

maybe.

I am being told from all corners,

we are out of time and fantasy

still distracts us from our

ultimate task.

I call out in the night,

Sanctuary, Sanctuary!

Hollow hallow be the able

to look our savior in the eye,

we will join together,

see through the fog and reach

the labyrinth,

the journey ends and begins

and ends and begins again.

I call to the moon,

we are here,

spirits in red and velvet purple,

we are colors

of the rainbow,

delight and delicate,

each of us to the other,

we are all together mourning

and celebrating a new sun to rise.

Horrible things to see,

to experience,

I hurt,

like screams from inside,

I am taped up,

trapped and sunk,

eyes to dark to see anymore.

I was “other-ed” to seek out,

some med or new style.

Cathedrals are bloody

and hallucinate

bleeding Maries,

Jesus hanged on his cross,

and welcoming in a new era.

Even to write this,

to print these words to the page,

I hear my demons scream

from inside the closet,

they are hungry,

and want out to play.

I am weak

from remembering so much,

so many events,

circus like acts,

man-made icons,

all Hollywood stars

and contracts with

the government.

Let us pray for safety,

for ourbrains,

our beating hearts

fluttering in the breezes of Neptune.

We swam in dank,

dark waters.

Covered bat,

sleeping pills,

skipping around in time,

haunted by visions,

afraid of the dark

and of being all alone in the world.

We are not as such.

We are fierce

Viking-horned

women that face

the trials of hegemony

head on.

Ice cream hostages,

painted and starving patrons of the arts.

In winter time

we are ahh yes,

just the players

in the game of chess.

End of the War - 2012

She had been fractured into just pieces of light, now, in this place of dark creepings and screams from the underworld. God give her grace in the ways that she can’t even ask for or that she even knows how to, what to say. You are not alone. I bleed and twitch in the brain just as you do. Do not laugh because there is nothing funny going on in the world that I can see. I had slipped through the cracks in the sidewalk that I skipped down when I was much younger, generations younger. In a time when there was still space to breathe, even in the dirty streets of Chicago. Please don’t distract me from the inevitable weeping and tearing of clothes. I bled ashes from the days when Christ walked the earth, so she told me.

Poor Mary to be swept up in the tempest that Shakespeare struggles with in later times. I can’t stand to see him gripping the sides of his pain and his bed. Teacups crashed to the floor on a regular basis in my family. I wanted more than anything to dance the nerves and the red energy out of the toxicity of my bones but no moves came, not even old ones that I knew by heart, walking and grinning from ear to Cheshire ear. Lies were so much easier, I love you.

Don’t bother staying around cause I was the asteroid to hit the world in the year 2012.