Sacré-Cœur

Sacre Coeur - beautiful climb. Ever onwards - ever higher to the tall white fortress. My champion after wearily making my way through the ghettos. Such loveliness I was not prepared for. You took me by surprise. The air changed as I reached your steps - infinite masters adorn your belly - your expanses holding filtered light. Through windows painted - taking shapes of holier beings than I - humbly enter. Artists wandering through the crowds - one found me today. Oh where he has gone and how I long to see what he has seen - to feel his craft in every city beheld. I was his choice today - tomorrow a next. Freely he drew what was perceived to be my likeness. Said I had no lover and I feebly attempted to persuade him otherwise. Apparently my lips were not swollen with the colors that passion brings. Guilty as charged - I am a loner. A common language between us - I freely spoke - though voice was not needed for him to see innocence posing before his artist's strokes. I sit here now - waiting for her to come - the one I can share this with. She is my confidant. My keeper and friend - her ears take in all of what I say and seeps into the heart. There is no possibility of facade. It was a good day today - I beheld what I most longed to see. In experiencing this tourist destination I witnessed the arts in four forms - experiencing him as I always have before.

The lights

The lights in Place de la Concorde just went on and the skies are rolling in to meet me - but you are not here. I feel it - strength and vitality next to me - you embody what I feel now. Monuments stand through the ages and new lovers greet in the midst of blue shadows. A mighty tune plays in my ears - breaking to the soul. You are here. A little body warmth would go a long way - breezes inspire but you could do more. It - the breeze - grows stronger - tearing at the hood which hides my face well. Could you find me in the midst of masses? Tamed beasts carry passengers behind them. Horses having gone through a stage called "breaking". Never shall I become as such. The stage isn't set - mine changes - as do the players in it.

Paris I

Red – this hour closes but my veins do not.

Bleeding – for you and it will not cease.

Time – To refuse cunning promises of redemption.

Drip, drop, drip dry.

Dripping time of dropping lies.

Loss – Imploring gears in motion as I stand still.

Grief – Six feet solves no pain of mine now,

Truth – relative to the ears and heart,

Drip, drop, drip dry.

Dripping time of grieving mine.

Tall – this tower of retribution seems to leer,

Kind – wishes find welded heart, hungry spirits within,

Feel – what you wish and I’ll keep rhymes,

Drip, drop, drip dry,

Dripping time of ill timed “why’s”.

Plead – The case I closed with verdict’s spite,

Make – your way home forget so called grief,

Remember – I carry this seemingly alone,

Drip, drop, drip dry,

Dripping time of wanting to die.

Fake - being ok to please the ones who remain,

Dust - from ashes never to be reborn the same,

Dark – the hours keep no time for my spinning world,

Drip, drop, drip dry,

Dripping time of aching life.

Choose – to live and keep on breathing,

Make – her bed never to be disturbed again,

Smell – the faint memories clinging to winter’s claim,

Drip, drop, drip dry,

Dripping time of mending I.

In Truth

In truth you know nothing of,

The dizzy spell I am bound by now,

Entire armies have known less pain,

Wars have not known this battlefield,

The plains are drenched in my blood,

Tears do not wash away the stench you have left.

In truth you know nothing of,

The pain I endure at your hands,

Complete and utter chaos is my wish,

To mask this raw pain eating through my soul,

Ever mine is this disastrous ending,

Ever yours is this fatal non-committed choosing.

In truth you know nothing of,

Love as it should be in its complete form,

If choosing you means this confused being,

I would walk a different path and one alone,

For to be bound to you is like breaking waves,

I am done with being the anchor in stormy seas.

Storm

You know the saying “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”?

There is no storm... There is no fury reeking havoc here.

In place of such terrible destructive forces exists a calm resolve. A quite reverence as a soul’s last surge for a mended heart looms ever nigh. This – is my life. I am resigned to view it as a heeling process, because that is what sounds healthy. But what I find is a muscle that having been used for the first time – knows not what to do now that it is in pain. I draw deep on the waters of life, praying that I am sustained by some power I know not of. Faith eludes me, and darker nights than I have ever seen – are now my twisted lovers.

There is no storm… Passing thunderheads pose no fear for me now.

I search the light beacons in twilight’s aftermath of knowing you deeper. Such persuasive arms that no longer seek me, distant empty gaze that holds me at a far distance. Was I really all that wrong? This – is a lover’s fate. For having chosen pathways of Casanova’s design you do not cherish what I esteem. Value was misguided and my faith’s un-forgiven rupture will plague me for a time. The wind brushes my face – I feel. Remember – the courage I keep and did not reveal to you. I was right, wasn’t I? To hide what I most valued? It lies like a dormant beast, you had not the strength to release it, nor could you have hoped to tame it. Understanding? I would laugh to see you try.

There is no storm. The clouds are grey, but the storm itself lies harbored in my gut.