My Face Against Your Glass

The monolith of your decided thoughts
looms large in dreadfall shades and shadows stark
of lost judgments formed in historic fogs
and lacking light and love, short on comfort.tumblr_nvg1grSQMU1shqs68o1_1280

and I am shrieking-dwarfed in their shot gaze
unblinking, baleful red and white and black
for all those choices made back in lost days
in reactive guilt and in hidden shame
give recoil now to even the mere name
of who and what I am, what I am not.Image 001

and still I throw myself against those stones
those bastions large and looming, standing there
in granite ground into your heart and bones
that glass unbreakable that you have set
to look thru, thinking seeing is the same
as being, but it’s not, not even close.tumblr_nvznykpXfz1sii7h0o1_1280because you cannot touch me…no…not quite
…you will not touch me, that’s it, you will not
then I am naught…and my face…ohhh my face

my face against your glass red, blue and white

red and blue and white and I can’t get a breath

my face against your glass, your glass my death

Apologies to Jim Croce…

…but somehow, this seemed to fit the last 6 months, his song “Lover’s Cross”, with the word gender substituted in.  Not a perfect substitution but it gets the point across.

It is NOT my final or even best answer…but it is a color, an element that I want to introduce to those who think “It’s all in your mind” or any other number of illusory and totally mistaken things about me (which are also called judging in some worlds)…

I guess that it was bound to happen
Was just a matter of time
Now I’ve come to my decision
And it’s a one of the painful kind
‘Cause now it seems that you wanted a martyr
Just a regular gal wouldn’t do
But baby, I can’t hang upon no gender cross for you

You really gotta hand it to ya
‘Cause wow you really tried
But for every time that we spent laughin’
There were two times that I cried
And you were tryin’ to make me your martyr
And that’s the one thing I just couldn’t do
‘Cause baby, I can’t hang upon no gender cross for you

‘Cause tables are meant for turnin’
And people are bound to change
And bridges are meant for burnin’
When the people and memories
They join aren’t the same

Still I hope that you can find another
Who can take what I could not
He’ll have to be a super guy
Or maybe a super god
‘Cause I never was much of a martyr before
And I ain’t ’bout to start nothin’ new
And baby, I can’t hang upon no gender cross for you

‘Cause tables are meant for turnin’
And people are bound to change
And bridges are meant for burnin’
When the people and memories
They join aren’t the same

But I hope that you can find another
Who can take what I could not
He’ll have to be a super guy
Or maybe a super god
‘Cause I never was much of a martyr before
And I ain’t ’bout to start nothin’ new
And baby, I can’t hang upon no gender cross for youtumblr_nm7ikrNGZJ1sg3ziao1_1280

Leaning Hard Against That Night

icicles hung glittering clear,
they shot diamonds, mercury bright
and gleams refracting morning light
they hid the horrid crime that happened
in the cold and dark black night…icicle

how can people do it, say it?
well, last night the deed was done
beneath clouds scuttering wet and rainy
(like my covers wet with tears,)

it will be done again you know,
but only lonely dead will weep
and they are dead…so that leaves just
the children crying in the cold
and hungry violence of the night.

that hand groped blind and deaf, and reached
for icicles hung in the dark,
all light drained dry and swallowed down
fear’s greedy gullet, sucked into
the belly of the raving beast. IMG_6829

that tongue, fearsome and cleaved in twain
and mute, waggling helplessly
between those fearful gnashing teeth
it fluttered, spit, stuttered and hit
with lies, with bitter accusations
comforting and crooning.

the disembodied hand snapped off
that cold icicle, that one that
the red light of Mars’ distant eye
unblinking, licked, caressed and sharpened,

then the hand floated across
the room so dark and thick with terror,
while some choked disembodied voice
muttered Mene, Mene, Teqel, Upharsin
and I knew I was a wall
and it the hungry writer, and
then it fell in fierce red streaks,
such icy strokes of death tattooingbloody_icicle_by_achmedxd-d37863p

“unclean!”     “beware!”     “mind-whore!”

my blood was its gory ink
and my heart was its inkwell, screaming
as it wrote again, again,
it wrote again, til I drained dry,
lay still, eyes glassed and blindly staring
at the black sky spinning, fading
from my view while that night faded
into grey dawn streaked with crimson
bursting full into today.

I woke up and found my face
was wet, and thank god it was just
my tears and not my blood, but wait…
my eyes were caked, dry, rimed with salt
and sleep…the clammy wet was really
that icicle and the secret
kill it keeps inside its melty
hungry heart so ravenous
and never satisfied or sated,
just drunk on my blood and terror,
drunk on me, so feared and hated.
icicle (1)

i died last night…but in my dreams,
so there is not a corpse remaining
and the murder weapon melted
(they always do in dreams, you know)
and so the killer walks the earth
so smug and lily pure and knowing
that the sprawling feast is now
secure and safe and once again

the killer sings out

“all is well inside the city!”

walls so high, so white, so white,
just like the cliffs of Dover standing,
leaning hard into that night.

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My Tender Misty Heart

Tender is the misty forest, full of frost, full of frost
Glowing in the velvet night and crystal air, crystal air
I walk silent, carrying my globes of hope, globes of light
In the misty forest tender, full of frost and air.Image 001

Shadows track beside me here as I walk in the trees
Leaving traces of their fear, and their hate, always near.
Gibbering and whispering their lies and pain, lies and pain
Stalking me, looking for my heart so red and near.

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They believe my globes of hope are poisonous, full of death,
They imagine machinations sinister, scheming loss
They crown me with bitter loathing hateful spite, in this night
Waving branches dead and stark, their signposts of despair.

hedgehog__s_dilemma_by_alterlier-d2jr2nc

I know what is in my heart, in my globes, globes of light.
I know why I walk the tender misty forest, forest night.
I am warm, and my head held high as I walk, as I walk.
Nothing can defeat or harm my tender misty heart.

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