126: artificial, all

Those walls were painted: coral, sea-foam green, sapphire blues
Too much even for skies to contain
Even the sun was conscious of all its faded, incomplete, quiet glory.
And then darkness - the great equalizer. One would never know
of the gems that shine in the face of light,
those walls that laughed - now muted, resting,
incapable of sound.

No one knew the difference, and sometimes the sun never came up,
so who would ever be blinded by the loudness,
Never know of richness, vibrant luxe -
blessing's old hex and luck's new curse.

125: Uncover

Clear and precious, valuable weight
wrapped around your neck. True to form,
shards of the earth, bred underground -- a captive gem.
Captures the light and swallows it whole, kept
sacrosanct;
Cool to the touch with fiery thoughts that exhume
nothing; but display blank gorgeousness,
sixty prisms of everything seen and unseen.
Gone is the dirt that bore its grave, yet their eyes remember.
Clean and shining,
sitting pretty in lazy luxury and
resting on your collarbone
with that which was once buried alive, now resurrected
with the near-perfect gleam of The Ideal.

gorgeous light

124: Ribbons

Gift-wrapped healing to hide.
Carry on, sweetly, quietly, silently,
Oh backstage blues, and the golden glory
And the spotlight fog that encases us whole.
Those who know everything sometimes hate to know all--
Oblivion drugs stall: Pandora's wish
To never know what she knew, what she learned, what she saw.
But to bask in the ignorant and sunny bliss.

123: in bottles

Simpering, eyes with the plague of the noise
that rings unnoticed, unheard of, displaced
from the stage and placed on the mantle.
"You should have been put in a glass jar on the mantle,"
Peer through and through and through that hollow,
that hollowed-out case
that emptied-out shell
Try to hear the vibrato and the shrill-eyed voice
Decoded, muted, transcribed by ghosts
and the airs of visions
As they enter through nothing until become something
As they breathe through the water and set fire to air
As she is deafened from the echoes that reach up behind her
Unsuspected, they grasp in the cloak of the night.

122: A risk vows

It is never really sealed forever
Time and again, let those metals out
Let it remember the touch
But if you feel the itch,
then scratch it.

birth

121: Juniperus communis

Better to feel the sting, it said. Better to
drop the box of sharpened diamonds, chiseled.
Better to lock it, hidden treasures
antiquated life underneath blue cover;
rusted, red peeks through the shine
and yet, still the embers of fire inside...

STILL:
Make reminders along the landscape,
remembrance in the crevasses of faults.
Soft terrain,
The ground heals itself and so it remains
yr. calm & gentle friend,
both burnt and yearned and left away.

120: With a bow and scissors

Cover myself in your words,
I wish to be wrapped in them, enveloped so
that I may never lose them,
'Lest I lose the self.

119: Wrote

Outside, branches scratch across the sky,
Hues of grey and heavy clouds - traffic passes by invisible
but heard beneath the concrete ledge.
And the passersby, too, go about their morning dance
blindfolded life with a mind full of rhythm
But can they hear the beat? I hear it within,
and I hear it in the taps of keyboard keys. The window
frames the world As It Was Meant To Be,
And here we sit. To speak and to write;
I speak as you write.