She Devours Mist And Decorates In Veils~

~Oracle Series~

She was transformation at its most divine

a shroud across white cheeks

made of silk;

the spider looked upon her handiwork

and wished it the color of the sea

as she

the woman

laughed

lifted the azure ocean from her lips

and kissed the spider on her soft

round abdomen

making the arachnid blush

shiver

and develop a liking for kisses

no human could ever really fill

after hers

 

She ate the mist out of the mouth of dawn

dressed herself in the Sahara

wove sunbeams through her hair

radiant in her own dangerous sway

solidifying through a fold of bricks

that took her into the heart of old Morocco

where the men still wanted their women chained in veils;

a man cursed her in front of a cafe

she leaned through the air between them

and bit his laughter in bitter blood

from the corded muscles of his throat

“Familiarize yourself with cultures.”

she whispered through the mortar and the dark eyes

eating her

coveting her

until she laughed

and became the source of all things

her hips wound round with golden asps

she filled the walkways with the forty veil dance

sinuous as sin

deadly as the cobra's amour wound in silver braids

through her snow and sunshine hair

she danced through the speechless town

and called the women from their burkhas

into her skin

until they trailed her in beautiful mocha skin

and wild eyes

driving the men mad

and deep into the desert

 

"I think I'll call you Smooth Move."

the boy, who was really a god made of amber

and too much thought of the body of Babylon

lost somewhere, etched in calligraphy under a mound

outside the parameters of everything containable

he said this to the woman dressed in dew

seated in the center of a lotus

in the arch of a moon swan doing figure eights

around her blossoms

"Ha!" said the woman and went back to singing Om

 

The boy who was dying imagination inside his deity

frowned

and asked

"What does that mean?"

and the woman smiled with her sea green eyes

leaned into his dusty loss

and whispered,

"I will show you, since you ask."

and the swan  said “O my.”

and unfolded out of his white wings into a man with dreams etched into his melodic skin

popped himself through atomic particles into the Louvre

leaving her

and leaving him

to be bad

alone

 

"What will you show me?" the boy

who was once a god

but was now little more than curlicues of memories etched into stone

being fragmented by trickles of mercurial waters in caverns

deep in the earth

asked the woman

with the jewel in the center of her forehead

"This." she winked

leaned in to drink his bitterness

and to eat his godhood right out of his mouth

her sharp little tongue digging into his fevered heart

and driving home her point into his bones

 

"Now, you can go be a boy.”

she opened a fragment through the air

and believed in him enough

to scatter his jeweled atoms through the oval flex

and exhaled him through;

the boy shook himself before a painting of a woman with obsidian eyes

as the man who was once upon a swan

sighed

and took the boy's hand

and said,

"I suppose now you will want to be friends."

the boy frowned

and shook himself

and the man said

"Have you ever had a cappuccino with homemade vanilla ice cream?"

 

The woman smiled at the mist

and put her veils back in place;

she bent into the pond

outside the old Buddhist Temple

as the old monk came through the lush garden pleats

and said

"No swimming before your lessons."

she smiled

walked on water

and kissed the old monk on the mouth

deep

so very deep

until he believed himself a young man again

and then she laughed

 winked

and he sighed

"Scandalous, simply scandalous."

as the woman opened her wings

and retrieved her sword out of the belly of the skye

for her morning lessons

in Hanakiri;

goodness knows the bonsai needed trimming

that morning

so close to the end of one world as things were

as a monk tasted ambrosia

and spice

on his lips

smiling

at his inhuman girl

 

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/pa.inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[JelliFyshKissUs]

A story written with poetic luster. The figure of a woman all girls want to be and all men lust after. Such a spiritual flavor on the bulbous tips of the taste buds. Seems a hint of lessons wrapping themselves in lessons regarding acceptance and a readjusting in the thinking of men--and women for that matter. I could be wrong, but I enjoyed that which I got out of it. Thank you for the feast this morning.

[No use.]

pax says it best and this write is glorious, the ins and outs of cosmic exotica, strange, indelible, earthly yet not from its womb but from another, unknown and potentially dangerous, do i dare to find out is the question, i shiver and submit my dagger upon your sceptor risen atop your cheek and bones of unfailing bliss~

[Pax Analog]

Glorious Neptunian exotica. Your poetic voice rides a strange angelic choir mercurially. Your entrancing vision, so like your eyes, Xanadu-ron-rons. Another astonishing mythic scenario; could be scored by Bjork in a stunning collab w/Sade. Under the slo-mo tsunami of your poetry and image, I recast all angelic/daimonic surreal supernatural films w/you.

"until she laughed/and became the source of all things/her hips wound round with golden asps/she filled the walkways with the forty veil dance/sinuous as sin/deadly as the cobra's amour wound in silver braids"

Exquisitely cinematic, eternal Goddess of Form.

[Jeff Loquist]

i get lost in your poetry in a way i normally do not

[Matthew Kult]

An excellent story full of imagery and lust, and lust my friend is what always pulls me in. Just makes me rock hard and needing....and needing something I will desire for a long long time...

That being said, I think it must be a huge compliment to be told that you are so excellent, that one will quit writing because they cannot match your ability. Yet to me, and only to me, I would take this more as an insult. Curious why?

I would take this as an insult because if my writing was so great why would it not inspire you to take your own writing to greater lengths and dimensions? Why wouldn't my greatness inspire other greatness, but instead inspired you to quit...Heartbreaking.

So why would I comment on this? I think if anyone on this sight other than myself would take someone saying they want to quit because of my writing... it would be. Because like the gods, demi gods, and lovely woman you so write about, you want to be the muse and inspiration of the people who read you.

It's just your nature, it would seem.

Regards,

Matthew

[Maurice]

I was late in getting to this poem, but as usual, it was more than rewarding, no matter when I read it. The words seem to come from you so effortlessly, and the result is always beautiful.

[callupcontact]

There are no words for you, sweet girl, your mind, or your endless array of talents... there is no better way for me to spend my time on this hunk of spinning rock, than with the beauty of your words, the beauty of you... hugs

[OR]

Your writing style is amazing but I didn't finish the poem honestly

I'm kind of insulted by the attacks from the west that now even little words like "that took her into the heart of old Morocco

where the men still wanted their women chained in veils;" just makes me kind of mad, veil is for most a personal choice related to religious believes and I think maybe west must learn about culture before judging it...

But after that being said your writing style is excellent to the point that makes me want to quit my love for writing ...
Please excuse me but I'm just being honest

[Dream Weaver]

What can I say that hasn't already been said?
Okay how about fabulious....

[scott007]

Wow I love your writing style. It makes the work flow so brilliantly! This is seriously good. Keep up the good work, you have alot of potential :)