Alis Volat Propris

Sometimes I feel forbidden to say -
perhaps the decency of my mind -
that which I feel no lovely words could shape
that which I could delicately or forcefully expose
the danger of passion becoming so consumed
by the violence of attraction - one is blinded to the
actuality of an embrace - true intentions
irrelevantly understood
i want you

closing my eyes reveals a parting
mouth and clenched fists - exploring
the softness of my own skin as you once did
the urgent desire to feel everything -
the strong sleeping arm that could toss me
with skillful precision where it wants
and a warm knocking on my thighs
as I awake invitingly hospitable
to he who is no longer a stranger
what phantom desires have slumbered and
hid - cleverly lurk now, tired of passiveness
born into hunger and frighteningly persuasive
a distance that suggests more of a dream
than a reality, such dangerous waters
await us and all the same i breathe
fire from my eyes, want one last chance
to take you into me and shed myself
further - to stake my claim upon your
heart with magic touches I am well aware
of their actual damage. if you hear me
calling from a distant land - come to me only
if you are ready, no matter how convincing I am
I want you
I want all of you
I want you when you can give yourself completely to me
I will have you
Come to me, lover
Come to me, amour
I will hear you roar.

lovely - please pay me a visit
already it feels like I have
traveled your body, and how
innocently it happened
to have you so close
using my hands to release
knots in muscles not of steel
weights but shovels and dirt,
your veins carry me

the rain is calling you to me
fear not my intensity
it is simply a part of me
and lesser men did not feel
it worth the possibility of
burn or being consumed wholly
these are risks
not intentions

so much older than your years
if you continue to sit beside me
and smile, I cannot be
accountable for my actions
it has been so long, handsome
and I have learned my lessons well
carefully waiting and now
I know it’s good because of the fear
- I have something to lose

but this is not haphazard
and I have a few tricks up my sleeve
breathe easy, the others are friends,
a fleeting physical amusement – we’re all
well aware I didn’t wait this long
only for a smile
but it is beautiful, because
yours makes me happier and more
satisfied then their methodical
embraces.
and if that is the case
…aren’t you curious?

And it happened. It all happened.
I keep waiting for things to settle down
But the earth was torn into pieces
And the trees are lost in waves
I’m standing where my home once was
Standing here in an empty lot
Devastated and alone
I can build the same thing
Over and over


It’ll never be the same


-

Soaking in a bath
Of our aftermath
That beautiful smell
Of how we fell
The story I tell
A spontaneous flee
What you did to me


-

Dear a certain and lovely fool
Sit back as I unravel this spool
Blue in my eyes begins to pool
Clashing against an outer cool
But inside is a beautiful flame
You’ll never truly be able to tame
And boy it’s such a shame
Cause you’ve lost this dame
I’m classy and sassy
Know how to love truly
Sometimes a bit unruly
But all that you try to contain
Everything you ask to refrain
Is what can help you explode


-

I’m not going to pretend this isn’t about me. Because it is. I’m not going to put in other people’s names and ramble as though this is a fictitious person’s life. Because it’s mine. And third person? What’s the point? I only know what I’ve been through and I wouldn’t want to add imagined words into someone’s mouth, detracting from my reality – the only one I know. Where does one begin, but the end? Of course, an end is merely a beginning and a beginning is basically an end.

So…this is about me, by me and it starts in August of 2009…

-

I am sitting on a bed in a room stuck in a depressed high-school boy’s dimension. AFI posters, fireworks, clothes in a large pile by the door and scattered everywhere. My eyes are swollen and exhaustion slugs my body repeatedly. None-the-less – I am looking at the shirt-less maniac who I love with a knife at his throat and a look in his eyes that can only describe as the look of someone who is capable of doing very bad things.

He is saying words, I can hear them. Saying things like “this I how you make me feel.” I, too, am forming words, yet I stumble over them – unsure what the right response is when you find your suicidal first love with a knife at their throat. I hadn’t counted on this. It’s not something I rehearsed for, prepared for.

So I cry. I cry and he screams at me for turning it around and making it about me. As if crying when you are possibly about to lose someone you love right in front of you is the wrong reaction. Considering that you make someone feel as if they are better off dead. Considering that he may kill you too. Yes, I suppose I should have gotten up and called 911. Or screamed so his parents would wake up in the room next to ours.

But I cried.

The sun.is.beautiful. A full tank, a warm sky, a full pack, a pretty dress and an open road is beautiful. Breaking down and crying about your dead best friend only to be held and loved by your new best friends is beautiful. Falling asleep cuddling with your best friends is beautiful. Being there for your loves when they need you is beautiful. Realizing you're doing something meaningful with the world is beautiful. Understanding just how strong and beautiful you are is beautiful.

-

Survival poem #17 - Marty McConnell
because this is what you do. get up.
blame the liquor for the heaviness. call in late
to work. go to the couch because the bed
is too empty. watch people scream about love
on Jerry Springer. count the ways
it could be worse. it could be last week
when the missing got so big
you wrote him a letter
and sent it. it could be yesterday, no work
to go to, whole day looming.
it could be last month
or the month before, when you still
thought maybe. still carried plans
around with you like talismans.
you could have kissed him last night.
could have gone home with him, given in,
cried after, softly, face to the wall, his heavy arm
around you, hand on your stomach, rubbing.
shower. remember your body. water
hotter than you can stand. sit
on the shower floor. the word
devastated ringing the tub. buildings
collapsed into themselves. ribs
caving toward the spine. recite
the strongest poem you know. a spell
against the lonely that gets you
in crowds and on three hours’ sleep.
wonder where the gods are now.
get up. because death is not
an alternative. because this is what you do.
air like soup, move. door, hallway, room.
pants, socks, shoes. sweater. coat. cold.
wish you were a bird. remember you
are not you, now. you are you
a year from now. how does that
woman walk? she is not sick or sad.
doesn’t even remember today.
has been to Europe. what song
is she humming? now. right now.
that’s it.

Lately I have been put through some especially testing times. This is no surprise from life, but as I sit in the waking morning with the worms stretching themselves across the porch and the kitties stalking through wet grass - I am moved by that which has been one of my greatest blessings.

My friends.

Considering I moved over a thousand miles away from home knowing no one, I've been extremely fortunate in the people I'm surrounded by. These times are spent digging into the Earth, dancing through rooms, holding hands and melodically healing hearts. There are moments - like when I'm sitting on the couch in a house filled with smells of Indian food and years of building love, the man at the piano with a genius' hands casually composes pure beauty, everyone in a state of zenful appreciation. Moments such as an Irish jig coming on and we get up quickly one-by-one and find ourselves lifting our legs and our spirits and catching elbows to the beat. Sitting around a bonfire, passing around a bottle of wine, sharing our stories, debating the world.

I miss my family. I miss Shadow. But I love my home and the family I've found in these like-souls. We are all here for each other in ways that continually amaze me. They have kept me alive. They have fed my heart and soul. I do not know what I would have done without them - but I'll never have to figure it out. Because they're here. They believe in my strength, the beauty of my voice.

And I love them for the beautiful, flawed humans they are.

Home is whenever I am with you.

Is that my heart beating?
Or sex on the wall?
Extra sensitive
Extra wine, please.

You make me laugh
Is that your point?
Or do you just want to score some
Hoops in my heart?

Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you

Nice pace, my friend
Remember what you've done
I do, of course
it drives me to tears each night

Something tells me it does it to you, too
Maybe not so suddenly
But amongst the extra hours when you allow yourself to think
The extra minutes

The seconds when you stop you're fucking marathon
It's unhealthy to stand still but at least I own up to myself
You just choke on it, suffocate
And then wake up each day
Moved on - but haunted

I may be stuck
but at least I'm festering in my own disaster
You're mucking through the disaster of this world

What does it matter anyway?

We all end up alone, plastered amongst the walls. Like chewed gum on the side walks of Los Angeles.

Who the fuck wants to scrape you up anyway?

-

How do YOU hold yourself together?
I find myself curled up in the fetal position,
arms wrapped around my knees and head tucked in.
Nothing stays together.
Wrap my arms around my body - doesn't work.

Nothing I say or do holds me together.
I continually chant "hold it together.
hold it together.
hold it together.
hold it together Risa."

Nothing - it all leaks out.
It all comes through.
My whole entire body radiates no matter what I do.

How can you hold together
when everything in you says
to just let it out?

-

Why bother saying what you have?
Doing what you've done?
What satisfaction have you harbored?
For my stolen moments?
Truly, what have you won?
It seems as though you shifted planet
Just to watch me fall
Did you ever even care at all?

The girl who used to cry
Still does
The girl who believed in love
Still believes
The girl who danced no matter the weather
Still dances

She is taller
Has grown
Into her skin

There was a girl
Who traveled
A thousand miles
Each night
She still searches
Still hopes
Still dreams

-

Clinking chains
With clogging drains
Rearranging picture frames
My home lies inside
My toes and hand and words
They go where I go
Unsteady fate
Ready for anything
Except that one man
I never knew what was coming
But he started a fire
Within me
A sense of self
Only willing to give my love
To those who
Are worth the fall

-

And when the weather whimpers
The sun produce rain
Stars clogging up the drain
A heartbreak from another time
Singing to a well-worn line
My fingers' memory has it trace
The knowing lines of a tired face
Recalling heartbreak from a forgotten place
And when you’re near, you bring me back
Beyond the womb and days of black
Your touch completes what time will lack
Oh the peace I found in your eye
Knowing love will never die
They say it’s impossible,
I say they lie

-

If you are not here to see through skin
I’m afraid I cannot let you in
If you are not here with hope for humanity
If you can’t love yourself or my certain insanity
If your shallow intentions are all you bestow
I’ll save you the time and wont watch you go
If you cannot look the world in the eye
If you have never loved and cannot cry
I’ll be honest sir, I’d rather die
If the sun sets along with your fire
If you cannot handle all my desire
I only want you if you can take me higher
If your game is obviously a sham
Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn

-

To the cellar door
Where he kept us before
The hollow path of repetitive survival
Empowerment reigns the heart's revival
The white horse has thrown
Another lost soul
It waits in the stable
While we take the toll
To unravel our hairs
We’re thrown down the stairs
Dragged to their lairs
Trusted by true
Choked until blue
Blood remains silent
Who will save the violent?
We’re torn away
Until another day
Questions continually asked
Bruises continually masked
Reality is finally shown
Answers are never known
Fallen feathers are slowly collected
Giving flight to all once neglected

-

The enemy’s glitter burns our eyes
We look to the mirror, look to the skies
How long we’ve swam in this sea of lies
The smell of burning tires
The memory of beautiful liars
The familiar edge of sun’s sanity
Falling back into a lost vanity
Each second rotates into a new direction
Suffocated by this new rejection
I keep staring at this new reflection
I look in the mirror –
Who’s standing there?

-

In troubled times, I bow my head
I make peace with all that I’ve said
They call it waves, rain or thunder
Why define it at all?
I have to wonder.

-

I am still in love, in lust, at peace
I have my silence, that’s something at least
When I awake – I shall certainly feast
But until then I barely exist
Except sharp blue eyes
And a barely raised fist