The Writings of a Black Madonna Isis on Canvas

She wafted in the door, always open but forcing through. I kept my eyes on you, daring not to pass, the casket on my left without a second glance.
Yesterday you were a sweetheart, you brought me flowers to explain the feelings inside that deep dark heart, catacombs, skull will have; daggers in hearts when you are near.
I see you, watching, while you slip away. The doorway is opening but again I can’t squeeze. I sing to lonely michiefs and carry solace

Fuzzy, stark, breeching the gaps my mind won’t flow in.
Those empty rivers, the gasping night
Takes its time tonight and every night.
Towards solar flames behind the eye
of an Isis bird or Osiris, his plight;
river edge demons pass,
blue lips against white.

Disintegrating time twitching, flinging hopelessness from side to side.
Breathing help me take me release me I’m numb.
Spilling words together in an uptight bow, these whims of meticulous rests, bring us from the womb
Of sorrow of pain
and again I frighten death
to kick away the boundaries of unsettling unrest.
Bathing in warm light, cradled by solitude,
I crave to be held by nothing and grasped more.
Tell me Its O.K.
Succumb in my unrelenting neediness; crash
tepid waters, boil underneath my skin;
for beings close to and around me,
tell them I’m dead, and to go feed on the living.
We are all outnumbered by our own isolated feelings.

I could tell you the reasons for the changing of seasons, but it would ruin the finalé of life. Mysterious and bequeathing and one-wing beating, and tangled-up while I was eating rice. You were there, I can’t recall what you were wearing, but I know it was a valuable life. Moonshaking, thunderous awakening, grabbing skinny legs and undertaking One hell of a manifest strife.

three steps onto white opaque river bed

the teeth of winter biting me

she seeks to surround once

we are all near

tonight is the openness of revealing that

she cannot bear to part ways with

like outnumbered soldiers

bled in piles

scorn the madness of fury within you

to beaten and to bear witness

to undead creatures

mingling stares

taken from her womb of thought

into dark madness raving

silently within a stare

beating eyelashes

fingers dragging in the mud deep

within the soil of mothers

laid barren by decay

lavish expense

but awoken on your earliest day

fragrant melodies of screams

dousing your inner creature

bade me away.

Her eyes were intense, like radiation she burned me

My flesh was belonging to her in an intimate way

But her soul was yet to be reached;

Unyielding, guided by moonlight over towering planes

Of grass and structures that resembled skeletal animals

Belonged there, for us, to review the world and have none of it;

Being that it were, we were surrounded by encroaching fear

Speaking our names with embodied memories,

An encompassing twilight of unimaginable solemn, blind

Those who would trespass and walk light on our floors.

We could count the days were numbered, reaching the light

Molding headdress, hundred severed parts with thistle,

Encased in the view of my eyes; her beauty wilted and died.

Turned up the brush and liquid black drips around thistles of synthetic fibers; Jet Black; Black Cat; meowing to her own reflection. Tidy bits here and there but mostly disheveled.  Two round dumplings of immense proportions droop to ensure her satisfaction of outwardly appearance.  Cowardly behind her image she gathers loosely clumping entanglements into swirls of tornadoes to befit her rigid angles.  Languid and beguiled, her teeth chatter against temperatures for Snow Foxes.  Even chill could not turn the tides to bring fabric to her ankles; horrid atrocities of former females will never stop at her corner. Breeze by and bring way to flesh and pink; dotting her undergarments dotting her i’s; forgetting to pursue the crossing of t’s.

White blurs foaming night wind breezing up her chiffon; clattering heels guide her way to lighted pathways of unsuspecting dangers.  Men crouch in the bushes waiting to grasp; they wait longer as she passes.  Mother moonlight turns a dial in her favor; owls appear to be disenchanted night watchmen. Blurred with glaucoma, never seeing it coming.  Anticipation of undulation; wavelengths to form immense gaps in her space time continuum.

Break.

Lofty perch does the bird waver from, sifting her sand through the hourglass into approaching terror.  A gloved hand slides through her legs, detaching the beauty from the world, keeping her days numbered.  Die young, preserve your lush; giving you over to the eager ones.  Gasp girl; grasp out; finding it easy to count to one, two, three.  End.  Time is swift when earnestness is clear.

Then sounded wavelengths of unmistakable fury; dripping with angst and mingled with the fever of a pneumatic cold.

Listless as it were, the dumbfounded guards to the gates of passage were alert with determination and greed. Phony glass was placed in the view frame of the detrimental ones. It was a plate glass insulation to reality. One must teem with irradiation; rats burrow in my brain. I can feel their tiny teeth a chattering away, blinding me to stay put and grasp longingly at threads which hang from my garments.  Icy cold numbness, fingerless stems from which protrude angry stabbing pricks, ready to tear and gnarl at my forthcomings. The pills worked but only their way; their way was outnumbered by sleepless zombies protecting us from the nightmares.