Posts: 1522
From: New York
Registered: Dec 2004

posted August 06, 2005 11:32 PM         

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It’s hard to find words, since I have so little use of them these days. And when they do come, they are stiff and brittle, tiny monochromatic pieces of glass trying so hard to attain their former crystalline glory, to encompass the vast expanses of my musings, wanderings of a tired mind in a lonely landscape of thought and dreams, where ideals meet the here and now, and gently try to form the symphony that’s wiggling in my ears, trying so hard to escape and breathe free in this stale sickroom air. I have two eyes, yes in this physical world my anatomy somehow defines the breadth of my existence and yet, these very eyes have taken me on a cosmic rollercoaster ride these past few nights, with the seesaw undulating between the most extravagant of secret fantasies, opening vistas of rich, unattainable zeniths before succumbing to the dark, exotic depths of an unfathomable nadir. Its almost like I rise above all present and breathing, all things living and believable, become weightless, nimble and agile, like the wing-footed god of my ascendant and thereby majestically look down, with an almost benevolent visceral pride at the events and treasures I have so greedily amassed in my short, lustful burst of life.

More follows ...

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Posts: 1155
From: Ontario Canada
Registered: Jun 2005

posted August 07, 2005 12:28 AM         

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Thats lovely.
And also....

What's up?

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Posts: 1788
From: Stafford, VA USA
Registered: Feb 2005

posted August 07, 2005 09:05 AM         

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I have missed you, sweet Maya!!

I have missed reading your words.

to you!

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Posts: 1659
From: ireland
Registered: Sep 2004

posted August 07, 2005 02:17 PM         

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Is the phoenix a Scorpio man/woman by any chance Maya and how are you keeping girl?

Love

Sue xx xx

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Posts: 1522
From: New York
Registered: Dec 2004

posted August 07, 2005 06:28 PM         

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The glorious morning sun wins the battle against the gloom surrounding me, as radiant fingers steal from underneath the rustling silk, resuming the dance of light and shadow so reluctantly abandoned the day before. Images flicker across the unstable canvas of my mind. He was supposed to be everything I ever needed, every thing I dreamed of - my knight in shining armor, a golden angel robed in shades of pristine wholesomeness. Somehow seems clichéd though, doesn’t it – like picking tiny labels at a flower show - scrawled in a dainty spider by kid-gloved hands. A mouthful of large, elaborate words making a futile attempt to assuage what’s essentially a wallflower reared in the shadowy wilderness. A lone sigh escapes as I try to greedily hold on to the fleeting memories, of delicious moments of shared, honey colored togetherness, a meeting of the routine and the surreal, so rare and precious, like the sudden shimmer of rare minerals in a dark, stony cave. One of these days these little mysteries will shed their diaphanous veils and reveal themselves to me – why nothing fits and nobody belongs, despite desperate attempts to the contrary.

Slowly, almost effortlessly, we descend into patterns – as if it was expected of us all along, as if it’s the most natural thing to do – for you to recede into feigned indifference while I invariably recoil in frustrated disappointment. And yet something inside us relishes, almost welcomes falling back into the insipid familiarity of heartbreak and disillusionment. The feeling of coming home, even if its to the unwelcoming arms of an apathetic existence – like the bleak, dusty visage of old glass shuttered windows. Skittishly, I gather the trusty arsenal – old friends who wag their fingers in that many “I-told-you-so”s and comfort food from the corner store. We gather around the coffee pot and begin to rebalance the mothball ledger of relationships past, recouping them from the battles lost today. With trembling hands I raise the lid on my chest-full of cautious scruples, gathered over the years with so much careful labor, just as you seek comfort in the inanities of intoxicating intellect and mostly familiar unknowns.

And later, much later, in the dark oblivion of the night, the tears arrive and I’m left forever alone with my demons, to break and crumble, silently shatter into a million pieces, just as, a million miles away, you raise your hands to gather the falling , crushed petals.

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Posts: 588
From:
Registered: Dec 2004

posted August 07, 2005 06:35 PM         

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oh Maya-v, that's so deep all I can do is GASP such talent for writng, my daughter is that way, she takes my breath away, when I read her stuff......

give us more....

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Posts: 8576
From: the stars
Registered: Jun 2004

posted August 08, 2005 07:28 AM         

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Yeah, really. Wow.

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What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly.
~Richard Bach

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Posts: 1788
From: Stafford, VA USA
Registered: Feb 2005

posted August 08, 2005 08:34 AM         

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Posts: 1522
From: New York
Registered: Dec 2004

posted August 09, 2005 09:59 PM         

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Another night spent in a custom-made penitentiary, a self-created space-time continuum. Another faltering step, another failed attempt at salvaging a fatally wrecked mission. A ball of softly glowing grey light balanced precariously in studied nonchalance in deeply veined brown hands. I cast quick stolen glances at the dimly lit inner sanctums of the smoky globe, where microcosmic undulations match the misty exterior of the cold fall night, fears and hopes chasing circles in equal measure the quiet restlessness of the damp heavy air. Another night spent in waking moments of fitful dreamlessness, as I reach up and constantly steady the circlet so unfittingly bestowed on my head in an earlier lavish ceremony. A coronet of lightning strokes and cloud blossoms – proclaiming to unseeing eyes glory of untold deeds of literary valor, atop a shining steed. And I quickly change roles, slip comfortably into the skin of the avenger, the savior being saved, and the damned swiftly descending to the rescue of the haloed few. You smile at the irony of my mercurially dark humor, and as the first drops of the blood red wine soak into our parched tongues, I lower my gaze in willful benediction of the heavenly splendor of this celebration of the heart and soul that you so carelessly throw my way. What I wouldn't give for a moment of faint recognizance, a trespass of the passionate surrender that once rocked those sapphire eyes and made them glow with the silver fire of reckless abandon.

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Posts: 1522
From: New York
Registered: Dec 2004

posted August 09, 2005 10:00 PM         

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Waking up to a morning pregnant with the promise of a raucous onslaught of martial passions on the docile, compliant earth. Frissons of nervous energy radiate across the ethers, the air taut, stretched like an animal skin across the serene landscape. I rush out to absorb the exhilaration, drawing several deep breaths of the earthy aroma of the moisture slowly seeping into the parched, hollow earth, as you turn away from the window, an amused smile hidden behind a steaming cup of a fragrant brew. The well-defined edges of physical dimensions seem to be melting, as a slow osmosis creates a confusion of the elements, not unlike a riotous Pollock painting. And as always, this intense feral smorgasbord draws my mind back to the mystery of you. How the elements seem to have almost outdone themselves in defining the enigma hidden in those ocean depths. The fiery passion of a volcanic temperament offering polarity to the icy confines of a superior intellect, covered by yet another layer of mysterious detachment and pretended apathy – an air of knowing it all, seeing it all without letting on any contemptible hint of superiority, and the constant effort of not letting any one figure out the precarious balance, the crab-like shell that hides a soft, vulnerable underbelly of teeming insecurities. How I relish and treasure each delicate layer, and celebrate every facet that you deem to expose to my loving, accommodating eyes. How my heart yearns to quiet away the fears and confusion never too deep beneath the surface and bring a rare calm to the constantly churning seas. I come back to our lair, the exotically sensual escape I so laboriously created, hoping to find an essence of you clinging to the velvet surfaces and the endless layers of richly hued fabrics, and bury my face in the soft belly of your pillow, which still has the shape of your head imprinted on it. And I savor these moments of stolen bliss in my personal paradise, even as my heart craves for your warm, soothing presence, knowing you left again without saying goodbye, not feeling the need for it, not knowing the worth those few words hold for me.

So I spend the day in an uneasy wariness, waiting, needing a nameless sign. Its weird how each time it clouds up, a hunger arises in my belly, as I wait, patiently, for the sky to unleash their arsenal of angry thunderous outbursts, followed by the blissful collapse of the heavens themselves opening up their heart to me. I want to be consumed by the primeval explosions, caught up in the mad dance of silver lightning angrily streaking through the pulsating purple shadows above, till the final release of torrential downpour renders a grand finale to the spectacular show.

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Posts: 1788
From: Stafford, VA USA
Registered: Feb 2005

posted August 10, 2005 09:02 AM         

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I am on the edge of my seat, Maya.

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