a maiden dares to veil her face, hidden now by shrouds of midnight blue silk and lace
and although the voluminous fabric hides her wide and darting eyes,
her sigh of wistfulness does not escape the notice of the one who soft approaches.
and though she steps delicately over the conduits of merchants mean and voracious, varied
and as she tiptoes past the worn and crumbling pillars of viaducts grand and tragic both,
her walk of longing unfulfilled is not hidden from the eyes which spy her now, he approaches.
and little pricks of starlight strewn in her silken hair do frame a face and form of beauty
yet her tears do hotly fall upon the earth, even as her hands softly brush the boughs of trees, eagerly.
and so as her face pales in no uncertain terms, he steps close and whispers, lo – he approaches.
Oh, my lady sweet and friend most dear, I have a jewel for thou to fix in thine raven hair. Yea, accept it, I pray!
But, oh, my lord – I must confess, I have already a jewel of mine own that in my hair I wear.
Yes, it is of luster dim and quickly fading and not by half as glorious as the one you bear.
But, oh, my lord – I must confess, it is precious to me. And I love it so, even so I dare, my lord.
My lady loved and friend most dear, that jewel of yours, does it not make thine heart sere, a leaf upon the wind.
I pray thee, take this rising sun, this gem of greatest price. To thee I offer, maiden fair. It is thine.
and so as he kneels before her upon the land, a blinding jewel of light and beauty in his hand,
he bows his head in quick anticipation and quivering does she take this jewel from him, exultation!
and oh she lifts the rich-wrought gem to her brow and though she cries, her song is one of beauty unrivaled.
oh the veil falls from her face, oh the light beams upon that maiden’s silk and lace
and although her eyes shimmer wetly with her tears, no longer do her eyes dart to and fro in fears,
her sigh of wistfulness now resolved, her heart swells in newest blissful song, eternity approaches.
Tag: muse
Neon Haze
Morning, all!! Quick update time. It’s a wonderfully sticky Monday morning here in Houston and as the day slowly lightens, thought I’d let you know what I’ve been up to lately as I sip on my peppermint mocha…
In actuality, this weekend was a nice and calm one, which I appreciated much. Friday night, went with Sammy to a random church’s young adult group meeting, where he was engaged to preach. He was much blessed by God and preached mightily on 2 Samuel 11 and the effects sin has on us. Powerful, convicting and encouraging – God be praised! Saturday, I got many random errands done, then went to Natalie and Andrew’s engagement/wedding party in the afternoon, where it was awesome to celebrate their soon marriage!! Sunday was church and afterwards, I went straight home and did various household chores before finally sitting down and having my dinner of leftover lasagna and a tomato salad. And…with my dinner, watched Return of the King. It’d been far too long. And even more fun was me and Maryanne watched it in sync, so we got to text each other random comments back and forth as we watched. Fun times…just wished we lived closer so we could watch in person!!! Alas. Oh! I also was much engaged in writing yesterday afternoon…got a powerful urge to put a story to paper, even though I am now doubting my literary powers and ability to do the themes of this story justice. I’m about 2200 words in and halfway done, but it is most rough so far and I am unsure whether it will get to where it needs to be. We shall see. I need to fly now, but shall leave you the opening…sorry to be such a tease. Love you all, my friends!!
A window stained, spattered with raindrops and grim in both general aura and appearance. Thunder rumbled in the far off distance and the harsh neon lights glared into the window, through the rain streaked plastic and into the cramped room. The room, mean in appearance and dim lit with a single lamp beside the bed, had a singularly utilitarian appearance. A bed, a sink and a mirror. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing more was needed. Nothing less was used.
Closer Creeps the Night
Beth sighed as she sat in weary anticipation on the front stoop. Hearing a car approaching, she looked up warily, only to see a little black ’88 Volvo approaching. Not her ride. Actually, she had no idea who the driver was, and she knew most people in the neighborhood(naturally, as she’d lived in that same neighborhood for most of her 19 years). After the Volvo drove past, she put her head down again and watched the late autumn leaves tumble down the sidewalk in front of her. The leaves seemed to be dancing with gleeful abandon as they darted by, rejoicing in the winter-tinged air. Beth shivered. She didn’t share the sentiment. Pulling her orange coat closer around herself, she sighed once again. Where was Rich at? He had promised to pick her up at the crack of dawn, but as the early morning light spilled over the sleepy neighborhood sprawled out in front of her, Beth started to worry. She tended to do that a lot, particularly when things didn’t go according to plan. And in her life, things had a tendency to not go according to plan. Unfortunately. Beth rubbed her arms again. She was cold and irritated and still not quite awake. A squeal of tires skidding around the nearest corner shook Beth out of her brown study. In a flash, she hopped to her feet, grabbed her small knapsack and started walking towards the street. Rich’s lime green monstrosity jumped up next to her and she tugged on the door handle violently. Time to go save the world.
Penstroke
A morning where a
darkness reigns throughout the land
and yet there is a wind that blows,
a return of sweetness and decency
mayhaps.
A morning where a
bowl of oatmeal upon worn table sits
and brown sugar swirls in dreamy paths,
a return to first love and hopes fairest
maybe.
A morning where a
moonlit herald sings in quiet wonder
and I hear a call to that far country,
a return to truest tales of yore
perhaps.
Unwilling
Dirty feet and
dirty floors,
See how all the
filthy money pours
across counter-tops and
tables stained,
not a cent is clean
or rightly gained.
Who dares overturn
our ways,
crack the whip
and halt our days?
Who dares let his eyes
grow sharp in rage
Who dares shout aloud
and then say,
This was to be a house for prayer,
but upon this holy ground
your dirty feet quick into wickedness
have trod;
This was to be a house of love,
but upon the poor and weak
your dirty feet quick and merciless
have trod;
This was to be a house for peace
but now comes near a sword and flames,
oh how I weep,
return, return,
come nigh to God.
Soul Power
Morning all!! It’s Monday morning once again – the beginning of another (hopefully busy and exciting!) week. I’m sipping on my hazulnut mocha and enjoying the slow lightening of the western sky as the dawn continues its inexorable march. I really don’t even have that much to write about(since I just posted two days ago…two posts in three days – shocking!), but thought I would at least say hi.
A slow and ponderous turn of earth,
seems so heavy at times,
so full of nickle and iron
and far too many broken dreams.
Yet soaring through the not quite vacuum,
Soulful dance of nebulae and stars,
Not so heavy now, see?
Tapestry of space flutters,
dreamily.
Orange Shades
A needle scratches
vinyl, loss of notes so warm,
a needle patches
ripped spot in his jeans well worn.
He smooths that charismatic carpet
and so
he crooks his elbow in sympathy
just so
and rests his head upon it
like so
and he ponders the stars
dancing across his eyelids
for so
he knows
a secret.
Away spins the music down the
alleyways of his most treasured
memories
and yeah,
away spins his boot across the
vinyl, floor masquerading as
polished wood
and yeah,
away spins his thoughts upon
the streets of the true promised
treasuries
and yeah,
away spins the weight of glory,
away spins the long told story,
away spins the
song of stars,
a mystery unfurled.
Song of stars and stars of light – what promises do you tell this night?
Remind me dear and draw me near – what sweet mysteries will blaze to life?
Veil of linen and veil of stars,
one to herald, one to hide!
One proclaiming and one declaiming,
One no longer shines with light.
One veil yet whispers, whispers
Whispers to that wistful sight.
The needle trembles, I stir,
Awake my soul.
Carpet smooth under my head,
Be still my soul.
Away spins the long promised song,
Arise my soul,
For so
I do desire a better country
Just so.
Just so.
Tennis Court
Softly drooping willow fronds and
lonely little gosling feathers
and a concrete bench perches
upon the brink.
Singing these songs, we wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
each other
ceaselessly.
You can say you’re sorry
and that you love me and
that everything will be all right
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.
So keep singing these songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
like the tapping
on our phones.
You can grab your coffee cup
and lean forward on your elbows
in that special way you do for me
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.
And yeah be singing those songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
in sync
like these beating hearts.
You can put your book down
and cry your tears and my honey
I know it hurts I know
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
and you’re not
quite right.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
There’s a cold bench
somewhere
sitting atop a brink
somewhere
and goslings under willow trees
somewhere
and it’s alright.
It’s alright.
Yes
Windswept roads and
chocolate
eyes
and leaves of
orange and red and yellow
and palm fronds dip and sway to
the music of the sun
and clouds dance and shimmer and
blue shines
the sky.
Soliloquy
I haven’t written here in a few days, partly because I wanted to make sure this entry was reserved for something special. Because, believe it or not, this is the 500th entry of this livejournal. And I had thought on waxing grandiosely on the history of my writing career or maybe discussing the merits of inscribing portions of our lives on such a public forum as this…but no. No ponderous essay for this beautiful Friday night! As the sun goes down…before I dive into my dinner of leftover spaghetti, I shall just write a little of my heart. Enjoy or not, but either way – just know that I love y’all so.
He opened the door and the thrumming music met the curtain of raindrops draped around his head. As he stepped over the pale metal threshold into warmth and light, he shook the water off his boots and closed the door firmly behind him. Leave the rain outside where it belongs. He took off his hat and shook it as well. It would still be wet, but at least it wouldn’t be dripping in his face. As he lifted his head, his eyes darted around the cozy confines of the cantina. It was a wet and dreary night and so predictably, Brother K’s was packed solid. Two huge men in plastic overcoats sitting at the bar. Table in the corner full of chattering girls, each with different colored hair – red and blue and yellow and purple. Red Hair met his eyes as they swept across her and raised her eyebrows in silent greeting. Table next to the girls had a lone couple, each with a drink in front of them and an electromag at their side. They’d be playing tonight. Table to his right was full of men just off from the refinery. They’d changed their clothes but the stink of chemoflume couldn’t be erased so easily. Table in the corner by the plasteen slots had a few musicians sitting around it, hands protective of their hardware. Table. People. Table. Music. Table. People. All thinking their own thoughts and lost in their own music.
He hit his hat against his side again to shake the last of the damp from it and smiled to himself. More than twenty people, and not a one matched the description.
As he finally stepped away from the door and toward the bar, he heard his name through the swirling tonal storm.
He waved towards the girl at the bar and stepped up to it. “Mittens, how’s things?”
She smiled wryly, “Situation normal. Nothing yet. And you’re late.”
He smiled back. “Hey, I had to make sure the perimeter was secure. Where’s Aeryn? And nice outfit.”
Mittens crinkled her nose at him, “It’s cute. And it blends in!” She did a little spin, showing off her pink shorts and brown corduroy jacket. The jacket did complement her hair and flared off her hips per the fashion du jour.
He shook his head, grinning, and said, “Duty, Mittens.”
She sighed, “You’re no fun, Jim.” As she opened her mouth to speak again, she shut it. Frowned. “Where’s Aeryn going?”
Jim looked past her shoulder to see Aeryn slipping out the door, fedora firmly planted over her flowing locks. “Must have seen something. Don’t worry. She can take care of herself.”
Mittens nodded. “She’s got heat. Still…it’s not protocol.”
Jim laughed. “She’ll be fine. Anyway, aren’t you going to play? We could use a distraction.”
Mittens grinned. “Yeah. It’s one of your favs. Watch my back.”
Jim smiled, nodding. He watched Mittens walk to the back of the bar and haul out her wooden monstrosity. He bet half the people here hadn’t ever seen an actual stringed instrument in real life. As she stepped up to the stage – in actuality only the one space of floor that didn’t have a table latched to it – the music dimmed, then shut off entirely. The barmaid had seen Mittens apparently. Brother K’s was known for good live music, and that reputation attracted those that cared for music of a higher caliber than synth nonsense.
The crowded cantina hushed and Mittens strummed the strings of her guitar and Jim smiled. He turned to the barmaid, “Hey – a Cola with cherry?”
She smiled at him – he was a regular, after all – and said, “And chocolate? You know it’s better that way!”
He nodded assent and watched as she poured a decadent amount of chocolate into his Cola. He took it and passed her his plasteen. She slapped it with her palmreader and handed it back. “Thanks, Mars.”
He turned back to see Mittens still tuning her instrument. He looked to his left and saw a man popping corn kernels into his mouth. Where had he gotten corn? It wasn’t even close to corn season. Jim’s mouth watered. He could use a snack to go with his sweet Cola, but he couldn’t let hunger distract him. Duty, Jim.
He turned back to the stage. And Mittens began to play. Music swelled beautifully and her voice rose to heights triumphant. It was one of his favorites, although he wasn’t sure if anyone else in here had heard it before. “And can it be…that I should gain…”
Jim sighed. Bliss. And then snapped. He had a job to do, and that job didn’t involve being as entranced by the music as everyone else appeared to be.
His eyes swept back around the room. Nothing.
And again.
And then, as he turned back to watch Mittens, he felt the cold touch of steel at his neck. Ever so slowly, his eyes slid to the knife and the man that was holding it. How had he gotten inside without being noticed? That was beside the point. Jim swallowed once. The man’s face was hidden in a cowl, but Jim heard the chuckle. The music was still playing. “…amazing love! How can it be, that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?!” As Mittens’ voice soared to the next verse, he felt the steel dig a fraction deeper into his neck.
Aeryn, now would be a good time.
And then, he heard the whine. Finally. A flash of light. A scream. The hooded man slumped to the floor and Jim smiled in relief. “Thanks, sis.”
Aeryn doffed her fedora, “You got it, bro.”
Mars and Corn Man were hovering over the cloaked man. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon. The rest of the cantina’s patrons were starting to notice something was amiss. Mittens was still playing. “Bold I approach the eternal throne…and claim the crown, through Christ my own!”
Jim sighed, the tension finally bleeding away. Aeryn put her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. Mittens put down her guitar and came over, her blue eyes sparkling. Jim grinned and pulled her into a hug. They stood and they swayed in the music of the night. Soon it would be time to get back to work. But not this moment. This moment, victory. This moment, light. This moment, love.
Something Weird 