Grey Stages

We speak of different things; grimiores and galaxies

She brings a different pain; one I beg to bear

Come close, you glowing soul, and burn me alive

You want to heal the world, but I don’t want to share

If you can see past the layer of filth then you can have whatever you find

If you can save what’s decent in me then I will be your protector

The way you speak sounds like the future to me

Please mend the wounds that were left to fester

I’d let your gentle hands guide me to my death

Instead you dig me up and drag me from my grave

Kiss me so I’ll forget the curse of being one

The curse of being two is really what I crave

If you can see past the layer of filth then you can have whatever you find

If you can save what’s decent in me then I will be your protector

The way you speak sounds like the future to me

Please mend the wounds left to fester

(Then sew our genitalia together)

Author's Note

I'd like to create that opportunity.

Reviews

[Kenneth The Poet]

Love the ending. Quite jaw-dropping in fact.

[Commanda Panda]

Thank you, Kenneth. Just wanted everyone to know that warm feelings in my tummy doesn't make me un-demented.

[Kenneth The Poet]

I like that.

[Emily B]

walk through worlds, it is not entirely a dream

[Marie Anzalone]

soemtimes, it can be hard to tell the difference... don't you and I both know that, Emily?

[Emily B]

i am learning :)

[Marie Anzalone]

I am glad one of us is. I thought I was, one time. Then it all went weird when i moved to Latin America.

[Emily B]

it is a different world there, Magic is a person, a way of life, the way I read those writers I studied in college

[Marie Anzalone]

it is indeed... a writer I admire talked about the "thin spaces in the world where God's finger can touch the earth." I always remember that when I look aorund here. This whole country is one of those places. Ordinary everyday miracles are almost taken for granted. Heaven is a local call.

[Emily B]

Nana may have been right about one small thing, I envy your calling there.

[Marie Anzalone]

I watched a busfull of people pass an ice cream cone from a vendor in the front of the bus to a small child in the back, and then pass the mom's payment and her change... just to see the smile on the child's face. That same day I saw a man deliberately run over an 8 week old puppy in the street... just to see if he could get a reaction out of the "animal loving gringa" he saw watching him. It's like there is no filter here. Life is lived, out loud. Life, birth, sex, greed, love, death- all closer here, on public display. The violence is more real, and so is the kindness, the humanity. There is nothing "safe" about this life, in any aspect. It can swallow you whole if you're not careful. As good a proving ground of one's soul as any I have ever seen. I would like to see nana survive one day with me flaying putrefying skin off a child's back to save her life.

[Emily B]

a sweet girl sent me a private note one day asking if i could do anything to help a friend, my reply was probably a little terse, i had already given all i had, and then some, but there was no way to explain

[Marie Anzalone]

no, Emily, soemtimes there is not. I have to turn down people all the time, too. It breaks my heart, but I already give so much some days... depletion is not a state I can function in right now, and neither can you.

[Marie Anzalone]

I have never believed that the ones who questioned their worth needed to worry about it- true life-affirming humility makes one constantly look within, always a state of introspection. And introspection sears us as a white hot flame. It is akin to viewing our transgressions through a magnifying shaving mirror. The zits look like volcanic eruptions; we forget that when others look into our eyes, they see the beauty and kindness there, not the minor flaws. But is that not why we seek the other? When we are in what is known as first half of life mode, it is all about survival- wanting to rescue and be rescued. Enter second stage, and it becomes about a shared experience in another's dreams, soul or arms- for a night, week, or entire lifetimes. My theory is that time itself stops there. Actually let's scratch that, and start over. I know it does. I have been lucky enough to witness it.

Yes, I hear it, to answer your question. I do indeed. That is the sound of a whirlwind collapsing in on itself. I have no idea what it means.

What's with your charming stalker dude? makes you wonder if some people who claim to be writers can pass the SAT's. Keep your energy where it belongs. You were born to be in the stars.

[Commanda Panda]

The charming stalker is a challenger of sorts. But what he doesn't know is that there is no first place trophy in the game we're playing.

I long to share the dream, to spirit walk hand in hand, to end the solitude of one and create the solitude of two. But the question is, where do I begin?

[Marie Anzalone]

where to begin? by setting intention in words, in concrete thought, to the universe. then taking a big deep breath and praying like hell. then recognizing it when it shows up, and honoring it in all of its forms, until the dust settles into the arms of the one who makes your heart dance. having the courage to set intent in the first place, having even more to act on it when it shows up. knowing that no matter how many times you screw it up, there is still chance to get it right next time.

as for the stalker... wow. some people really need to get a hobby.

[SmackThatPanda]

Stalk? Such talk? Maybe your brains are parched, dry like chalk. Write this up on the board before you tuck smug in at night....maybe a push is a push an not a prelude to a fight. Perhaps you'd see without eyes squeezed shut so tight. Throwing darts and calling names is the type of s**t that gets you framed. Blame is a game when your fingers can't type the truth of life....lets all sit back and laugh at the dude whose best friend is a knife. Jokes are funny when you run this town, but you get called out and play the clown? Tell me...set me straight. I thought you were down.

[Marie Anzalone]

not taking the bait, my little friend. please let us have a conversation in peace, as adults.

[SmackThatPanda]

Wait a minute....did you find love in all the wrong places? Somewhere a dead hooker is lamenting her Neglected skull fcking....commanda almost went legit on this one.......and I liked it. What the fkng what is that, I ask????

[Commanda Panda]

So, you do speak English. What the fkingggg facko is that?

[SmackThatPanda]

Hold up, wait a minute....did you just dive into the shallow end of the irony pool? I think you're the pot calling the kettle a*****e on this one, chief. grimiores? Is it that you thought you made up a word, or that you thought you knew how to spell. Come at me, mamajama, but come correct or ill send you back to church in your pajamas. Breathe deep. Ill wait.

[Commanda Panda]

What I meant is you can string sentences together that actually seem like an intelligent attempt to communicate. And spelling errors happen.