Mental Health, Relationship

Ossuary Sea

Jellyfish spit love
Tinkering with nature
The pleasure geyser from under the frown
Settle for up or down

A friend that failed you;
Once a three headed goddess
merry-go-round
Now she’s restless as a Wolfgang huntress
Chasing a sorrow bit tale
A mad clap ovation to tear down the love summit

Perplexed, when we come back for more harm
When times are good, demanded the sorrow to stay away
Pushy like the river into the sea
Water element, better then the air to breathe

The horizontal bones
sinking bells below,
Out of decadence we all go under, in watery graves tonight
In hope, to awaken in aria’s soul-mist
A great acquiesce, to exist
A perpendicular recovery
In a circulation towards love again

Standard
Relationship

The Surreal Token

IMG_8147

In fields danced
The howling tornadoes
Where did we go?
A voice wearied from
The dark censored hosts

Feeling old, pills were taken
And laughter misplaced,
Into the Samaras box,
Of the museum floor

As moles dream,
Be the world
Be the king
Ruling time’s
Borrowed tempo

Disordered grandeur
A shrouded relief
From the subjective
Neglected overcrusted
Microwaves,
And ignored lint
Covered floors,
To slip on
For divorce is conjured,
Only in the tempest’s mind

What lies ahead?
A tunnel out,
To our 21st century
Artifacts
A layered forest
Of fordite trees
Where you cut off
A piece to keep,
To heal as your
Modern token

Walkin towards
A rosette memory,
Beamin an old song,
From afar,
That you wrote
Underneath a point
Above the dipper
Your veins were a freezin…
“With all the colors in the room,
Why did your’s have to be blue?”

For: Ben
Words: Nara
Art: Lucas Samaras

Standard
Mine Na Poems, Relationship

Daisy Wheels

To be your doe,
Your dear,
Rays that drop from golden suns
Me, my name,
I call myself—Devlin
A fierce girl that wrapped
Celtic knots around her thumbs

Your heed,
To confuse
Entrap me in daisy wheels
Asunder the ancient powers,
Impossible!
It spins out,
Haunts in pottery shards
Ambrosial campfire
To sit in love with your kin

Dispel the engrave
A chiselled heart, a fantasy bond
Our eyes, deep seated truths
I cherish…
Your music, beyond the moon-wave
My cry, a beloved praise

Standard
Mental Health, Relationship

Purple like my true love is

I seize your voice,
And sink it into the purple waves.
The spillage pours into my aura.
When I can’t understand the overflow of language;
I pause the burden.
Simone’s lilac lamenting
Into blend of din.
The third eye enchanted
in the ry ry rhyming sin.
I felt my twin flame INTENSITY in 1998.
And hey, I was desired the same.
I’m the purple passion vine climbing a windowsill.
You, metal petals on the kitchen floor.
Tinfoil lips.
Still, unready.
Unsteady.
Unreal my descending myth.

Poem: Naomi Ruth W.

  Art: James Nares

Standard
Relationship

Ida Reds, Holding Love

The seasonal sun fire kisses,
To ablaze sweet Ida skins.
Enchant my eyes to sense,
The difference of my life’s fabrication.
Charming poisons
Like cavities that fed on my mind.
All the pretending of love.
That never nurtured.
My blood to flow,
To make my skin a blushing rose.
Now I see I’m too old to huff impatiently. I’m left to asking how do I orchestrate an orchard?
I simply cannot.
For if I control it,
I’ll cultivate only a bitter lust.
A love to grow as naturally as
Ida Reds, must be surrender in trust.
To the graceful hands of nature.
That one day could embrace me tightly
In tangible warmth,
And fray the cold negligence.

Poem & Photograph(Saturday’s stroll thru apple orchard): Naomi Ruth S. W.

Standard
Relationship

Squeezing Love

Breathing in you.
Breathing out you.
My lungs alone,
Love you.
Been in this prickly isolation.
Oh how long can we suffer?
Before the mind is bleak in blunders.
And west of home, you know you touched my indian summer.
So why can’t we quit this defeat?
At 22, I wish I had you honey.
For my heart was wounded
in deathly tension.
And my existence seemed like a fixed fate of continued loss and self-mutilation.
But don’t you know,
even then I heard you coming;
from a roof that could have
crushed every bone.
But now here we stand.
Merging our isolation.
Mouth to mouth.
Folded like an origami rose.
Kneaded,
our hearts found their way.
You.
Breathless and tall.

poem and art: Naomi Ruth W.S.

Standard