Desires of the Phoenix

September came with

a sting at the back

of the throat

and such a harsh longing,

deep,

vibrant,

kept me up tossing

till 5 in the fucking morning,

hungry for

the night’s sweet touch,

for she was the only one

that seemed unafraid

at the prospect of my

fire skin consuming her,

phoenix licking my wounds,

even though sometimes

she couldn’t find me

through the storms

I formed and

circled round my eerie head,

hiding me from view.

Slithering through

the open window,

you flitted over

my aching body,

I sigh to the

north and east,

patchwork paces,

haunting on a continuum,

re-tracing soft footsteps

of my childhood Michigan winters,

magic frosts flowing to the rivers,

through the trees

we gather together

our senses,

hot sex rhythms

thumping the

top of the skull

to the base of the spine,

echoes repeating out

vibrations from the vocal chords,

sounds that came

up through the belly

to the head and

bursting out the top

of the brain

in moans erotic,

top hats taken off,

roughly thrust

to the ground who indeed

got a rush

from the thought

of hands and

fleeting frenzy fingers

stretched out to the angels,

gasping in pleasure,

casting me out of my

sorrow bones

which kept me

looking downward at

my bloody toes

most evenings.

And then there was the Sphinx ,

ever watching,

woken up on a Thursday morning,

to feel a sandstorm

round her waist,

and she thought to herself:

the wind seemed angry as of late,

a tinge of tabasco on the tongue,

vinegar dripping down

the earlobes.

Frenchmen leaning

out their windows,

shouting down

to the ladies in the street,

they turned and

gave him the finger.

Seduction should’ve been

a sultry swing,

Thelonious Monk

on the phonograph,

candles oozing and winking

in the cool twilight,

tender lips run along curves,

breath slow but then building

to heavy orgasm sounds and electric quivers

that shook the rafters

of even the most sturdy houses.

But in these tempest times

we settled instead for harsh tire squeals

and a short siren thrill,

pick your poison,

chug it down,

slosh around,

fuck hard and rough

without a hint of passion or embrace,

slink out from under him

when he fell asleep

and squeeze through the floorboards

before he remembers

what he whispered

to me

in the undertow.

You were a unimpressive liar:

women faking stupid,

men faking apathy,

the joker was the only one

found laughing

at the weary games we play.

I watched

cigarettes stain teeth,

apothecaries abandoned

with a shudder

for to bend and contort

to the idols of pharmacy

and forensics.

Media mayhem ate us up,

spat us back out

as gnarled stick figured blond barbies,

to mouth agendas for

Halliburton and Disney,

tango with the demons

of industry,

then tossed aside into mass graves,

screeching for sanctuary.

Oh please,

break the veils of ego

honey,

it isn’t always

about self-promotion and

what you can get out of

every sinkhole situation,

vampires in their cages,

gnashing teeth together

in time with the organ pipes.

Poor dear,

I could tell

in less than

the time breath took

to sink into the lungs

that you still loved her,

a flash of thirst in the eyes

as she walked by

and didn’t even care to notice you.

I could always recognize

a face hiding heartbreak and

it tore at my insides

to see the pain

you hid

and thought only your nightmares

could see,

but no,

I wept for you

in my dreams as well,

kind stranger,

and hoped for healing

in the dawns to come.

Tis so strange and wild

the way heart valves betray us

and how we are really all the same,

wanting to hear our names

shouted out loud through street crowds

with love and craving,

and hands on my hips

in the early hours of the daytime.

Drinking in Pleasure and Headaches

And through the

tethered and tattered

noise,

your voice cut

the mayhem

like a shark bite.

The raven wrestled

to the ground,

wings pinned behind

her tortured neck,

she calls the crows down

from the swaying rafters

to aid in the quest

for western reproduction of

old north magic,

witches stirring their icy hot cauldrons,

humming odes of Isis

and that poor and plagued Persephone,

speaking words in

ancient slippery tongues,

languages long forgotten

in the panic strangled path

to fame and fortune-

hunting down the saints

with steal arrows spitting fire.

Though I know you

fucking heard me

in my lonely prophecy,

it seemed once the

words spilled

thirst on the page,

you picked up your own spite and

silly stolen syntax,

playing marbles

with easy monsters,

chugging liquored journeys

down your tasty throat,

left me

empty cans with oily fingerprints,

selling garbage at garage sales,

scissors stings,

raped muses,

eloquent slurrings of

my passion,

yet,

just enough sneaky lust

to keep my syrup skin bleeding,

I envisioned angels,

perceiving tantric music and pleasure mixing with

open wounds,

in the astral realms,

blisters and bumped heads

on the tall buildings that

fell from that wicked heaven,

faked well but I could always tell,

skies of pies that

shone bright with

glossy finish,

tasted like

seizure meds and Drano.

Masquerade masks

even needed moments alone

to wipe their tears

and drowned sighs from acting happy

in front of crowds,

applauding in delight,

but spitting on our shoelaces

as we came down

the sparkling stairs,

illusion of glam and glitz,

we paid dearly,

Marilyn Monroe with her

sex appeal and sad honest eyes,

signs of the agony cross and

captivity wasn’t worth it

to those poor and pitiful

phoenix girls,

suffocated in their own ashes

with no hope of

re-birth and

speaking their minds,

sputtering truths

before giving up breathing

at young ages.

Oh the nightmares

as of late,

raining down on

my erotic zones,

waking me up in

the middle of twilights

with shrill screams,

sirens blazing,

drugs and dying,

my father lost before

the war on cancer

came to my house,

banging anger and

frothing mouths

on the back door

even with porch lighting

and twinkling stars.

And you dared to

come to me with

quick fixes,

tornado warnings

when you didn’t know

that time passed through

the camels stubborn eye and

needles pinch the

wrathful skin.

You never saw the

sick children,

throwing up in bright hallways

covered with murals

of the outside world

they never got the chance to see,

ponies prancing and

taking tea with tiaras

and disney princess cups full

of sugar and chemicals.

There was no easy answer,

how dare you insinuate

my lack of care

with smirks of condescension.

I saw it all,

too much tapped in

to voices in my skull,

for my own sanity

was lost in the river

that rode you safely

to the ocean,

drinking in your pleasure

without a word spoken

between us. 

Dream Wars

Birthing water pixies

in my tortured sleep,

I woke up

weary,

always,

tossing and turning

with the

womb pains

of a new age,

learning phoenix lessons,

rough and hazardous,

picking my poisons,

drinking your nectars,

over and under,

beyond and in between,

the lights of cities and cigarettes,

sheets spread wide and waking open

like legs,

gasping for divinity,

out on the slippery floors

in the flats of London town.

I was the heroine

to escape you

from the silence

that ate you,

gulped you down

like coffins and coffee

in the morning,

before anyone

was up,

even the sky,

and I just wanted

to be saved

from this harsh earth,

get me out

of here,

oh the pain,

I cant bare

it anymore,

my head tis so sore

from the sight.

Confessions of the Burning Phoenix

Angels in archways,

I ran my car down the

dirty ditch road and into your

peripheral vision,

bloody and bruised,

crawling towards the air and earth,

my hands dug in deep,

and freed myself from crunched metal,

warped screaming seatbelts,

tire track stains,

upside down falling to the gravel

as the headlights race by.

I don’t mind resting here

for a time,

seconds had strung me out

like new meds

mixed with liquor and crushed ice.

Watching you popping pills

was boring me and so I slept instead

and tried to forgive you for not

fucking me every night and morning.

Damn it,

things were swimming and going well,

and then that

cancer sickness spread and

left us lurching,

back and forward.

Through late nights

of hysteria and tantric consecutive visions of

death and sex,

as hours drifted over

our weary heads and

we felt we were losing it all.

The battle degrading us further

into silence.

And with that flooding

of trauma,

back into my bloodstream,

I began to awake,

once again,

in the middle of the night

with dreaming of past hauntings,

that man taking my little innocence,

over and over,

with lies and cruelties,

without asking first,

a violence so brutal

it left me numb for years following,

I cried and wanted to

bleach my brain for thinking

of that year I danced

with the devil

and he grinned and giggled

at my bloody suffering.

Id love to forget

all the acts of anger and aggression

that he played out

on my bare bones,

but the senses and memories

stay and like to linger

in the morning.

And so,

though the abuse still

faces me in the mirror,

from time to time,

I remain breathing

through the pain,

living love and better,

forgiving louder,

dancing and

performing my sexuality

with vibrant beats of my heart,

and stamping feet on the ground,

shouting,

I survived,

and Im still staggering forward.

Phoenix burning

and yearning a revolution

to its knees, at least,

looking and howling in the moonlight.