Venetia's posts with tag: sacredsongspacepoetry
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 Refugeed flotsam
in the sea of man
I was
tugged by conflicting tidal emotions
escaped a continent divided by despair
to whirl
seemingly, directionless
my sextant, shattered
the sailor's almanac
missing its sheets I had not given oaths or loyalty
to creed or cult -
the anchored companions and lifesavers,
my family and friends
hope and dreams
peace and contentment, my goal
this life, too short
to choose sides or be land-locked
by rhetoric or politics
the empty blathering
of the insincere and facile Too often, forced to make choices
between gods and man
right and wrong
self and others
daily
no matter what moors us
to this life
I choose to continue
floating, exposed and adrift
purposely self-proclaimed and propelled
flotsam
in the sea of man vee ghozlan art - http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs17/1.jpeg?et=fwV8NQxb2qk2bGRlWRs0xw
 I want to be fey
archaic with genteel behaviours.
I want long filmy, sheer, frothy, ruffled blouses and skirts
while posed, artificially
on a chaise lounge,
as if arranged by Monet;
blurred, with softened edges,
and alternating vivid and pastel colours,
surrounded by gallant, attentive cavaliers while Debussy plays sublimely
in the background.
Yes,
I want to be a painting in the Louvre
admired
hung
in a princely medieval fortress
protected
against theft
and preserved
eternally
impressionistic and
fey. by vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile art - http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs55/1.jpeg?et=ib1zONbmIOtcEBaiGA8EgA
 another poetry challenge from Sacred Songspace...another work in progress but to be truthfull, most of what I write, is revised constantly up to the point when it is submitted, to a publication...lol...surprisingly, some of my best works have been inspired by SSS. Jus' Tammy - the moderator and the people on that blog, tend to inspire one's best. But don't take my word for it, wander by, you would be pleasantly surprised:
the apartment is small and empty of furnishings or the small artistic touches that make a place a home one's gaze is misdirected towards a bed with rumpled sheets it is the predominant feature in the bedroom a woman sits crumpled in a darkened corner an empty bottle has fallen from her hand at the sound of hearty laughter heard through thin walls she raises her head and blearily glances about noticing her bottle is empty she lurches to her feet with that certain inebriated care slowly staggers to the refrigerator and grabs another bottled universe by vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile
 a mirrored window stands in all of us
it lays between light and dark, black and white
we are situated between two man-made extremes, hands clenched, in a boxer's stance the soul has become dichotomized
occluded by a silly dualism
few things, have only one answer
still, eyes remain repulsed by the black
it is representative of evil, prejudged colonial connotations, superstitious incantations, plagued death, masqueraded propaganda and bleak humours
while white is desirable white is good white is gentile white is smart white is pure
when viewed on the other side
reversed, substituted and regurgitated as more silly reflected shit
white becoming representative of evil, reparations, superstitious demonization's, stolen lands, and bastardized dreams
and black becomes beautiful black is now good black is now gentile black is now smart black is now pure
both equally flawed perspectives
look through this fragile pane
it is an opening, a reflection
but as a symbol of sight, the mirrored window means nothing
until we learn how to see or become as blind men
and feel the dance of colorless souls by vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs227/1.jpeg?et=Fv8sUKseuUuL35bKAwis5g
 tis true
the quickest path to a destination
or desires
is a straight line
yet
I am undone by your boxed congregated corners
my fingers
braceleted by curiosity and caution circuitously
trace your geometric convergences
and angles
to arrive keyed up
and breathless
magically
before your locked portals you tempt me
with your neatly apportioned
mysteries
but knowing
I am no inquistive Hera nor brave Hippolyte
no beauteous Psyche or foolish Pandora
regretfully
with a lingering look
walk away
leaving you intact
and tethered to your shaped secrets
and my hungry desires
Note - based on the Pandora's Box myth by vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile art- http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs265/1.jpeg?et=egIaTYrrCs48JGboq7lnHQ
 I have been granted three white feathers for cowardice one judas feather for denying you the second for watching you walk away and the third feather? for not calling you back allowing pride or fear to still my tongue god, it feels like a damned lifetime since i have been without your love Note: The tradition of giving someone the "white feather of cowardice" goes back several hundred years, but became a populist issue in England during WW1 by vee ghozlan aka butterflynxile
 we stare at each other
bound strangers
claiming our designated sides
the space in the bed looms between us
like the Serengeti Desert
our love lays as a desiccated corpse
in between spaces
once permeated with joy and pleasure
asleep and dreaming
I reach out and to touch your skin
you are that close to me
repelled, you flinch and turn away
even unconscious
our love tastes of silica
running through the hourglass
of our lives
by butterflynxile (c) 2007
my love is a peacock with dazzling plumage extravagant gestures, bold declarations like a phoenix he rises to every occasion vociferous in argumentations, quick with refutations I fell in love with his words they gallantly, audaciously enrapture me he is larger and more colorful than life unlike my lover I am unadorned, without artifice my speech unfettered with flowery phrases there are no in betweens, no mistaken intentions or uncertain conventions my actions have always spoken louder, clearer and more emphatically than his words unable to trust my emotions or your wild exhortations I lay hands over your lips fingering and deciphering intent that even a blind man could see by butterflynxile é 2007
 I have difficulty sleeping nights while the city slumbers these old bones ache from a myriad of hurts so I sit in my bay window ensconced in a warming quilt enraptured by the glow of lights against the midnight sky I think there is a silent beauty unmatched and unremarked by Helios lovers no bright luminescent to gild and adorn the day walkers night shadows and blurs the edges softening sagging outlines, wrinkled crevasses in this inky blackness even I am beautiful by butterflynxile é 2007 art - http://images.vghozlan.multiply.com/image/1/photos/upload/orig/Ryf5gQoKCo8AAG4iBxs375/1.jpeg?et=R6ArlZUyoFSBA%2BlR%2CwrblA
 people ask me why i don't write of love or a belief in the tender emotions i do believe in love i believe the way a child believes in the tooth fairy, santa claus and world peace i believe from the top of my irreverent head to the bottom of my exhausted feet in between the folds and chambers of my bleeding heart and analytical brain to my unverifiable soul with fingers and eyes crossed stick a needle in your eye step on a crack break your mothers back childish fervor i believe its just that i happen to know love does not equal knowledge, experience or even pi does not erase bruises, scars or broken dreams rarely survives the other women (yes plural), betrayals and lies (also plural) yet against this knowledge, this experience, this mathematical uncertainty i still love by butterflynxile é 2007
 like the illusionist, your love was a trompe l'oeil it tricked the eye, a tour de force that overwhelmed my senses it ravaged my heart puncturing it with a thousand steely knives leaving me deadened your antics garnered you applause a roué, a man about town, with your list of a hundred conquests later, when I learned to breath again I stood on the sidelines applauding you, like the rest of the admiring fools a poseur, posing as a graceful loser after all, I told everyone, sex was sex what did love have to do with it? why did I not scream , cry out and expose you instead like papier-mâché I had allowed myself to be shaped, crumpled ultimately to be discarded as you moved on to a new trick by butterflynxile é 2007
art - www.monicarichards.com/.../fallengreek.html
 Dreamweaver lying in a field i watch the stars dance marcasite in the inky skies, obsidian night warm dirt cushions my head anchoring and tethered to this earthly place i yearn to journey to distant worlds the starlight draws me Sirius dashes playfully against the gleaming skies i ponder the human follies you have witnessed as my eyes slowly shuts and my dream is weaved hopes and longings are entwined possibilities and probabilities loomed and woven into a fantasy i dream of flight until awakened by an approaching dawn from my fallow fields of dreams into a barren landscape
The Wave
standing on the edge gaze blinded by the glare and my tears love, I see you not did you hear Xuxulu* song did you heed her deadly invitation? flashes of color diffuse thru the waves fronds of seaweed and kelp dance and entice under a beautiful watery veneer venturing closer to the edge my heart plunges i fear you have sought a song more lyrical and seductive than mine Note: According to the myth, Xuxulu was a water-dwelling spirit who gained prevalecence over pools and fountains when Iemanjá (deity of seas) and Oxum (deity of rivers) exiled her from the Orixá community due to her popularity among young men and boys. When her followers could not find her at her usual rest place near the shore of a river, Xuxulu's playful voice guided them down to a small fountain where she was singing by butterflynxile (c) 2006 art - www.art.net/studios/visual/Lulu/lulupaint.htm
Enchanting ethereal Selene,
I have lain
resting under your blessed light
silently chanting all your names
every incarnation
imprinted in my sacred cells
after the heat of the day
Mawu, watched as you chase hellish Helios
to a fiery pyre,
whispered your name
secretly, silently under my breath,
as I danced your murderous history and glory
warrior, fighter, Coyolxauhqui
immortal Heng-O
witnessed your vengeance,
not even an emperors sonâÂÂs
could flee
I have worshipped you from the dawn
of time,
enticed by bountiful harvest, Nikkal
gratefully plucked your gifts
of fruit and fruited bodies
I have gazed
as you sailed
regally across the star marked midnight sky
your contours, hills and vales on your façade
captivated scholars, astronomers,
and mystics
lovely Artemis
Women across the lands
and time
daughter to daughter
beholden and betrothed
by eternal moonlight essence
we are eternally blessed
by your goddess touch
immortalized by monthly blood oaths
binding nubile female flesh
less we forget
Notes:
Artemis (Greek)
Coyolxauhqui (Aztec)
Heng-O (Chinese)
Mawu (African)
Selene (Greek)
Nikkal (Caanite)
 Previously posted on Sacred Songspaces - see my friend's list homeless and tribeless
i traveled isolated and marooned
in a desolate desert
wearily searching
for a home and a harbour
until i arrived in this place
suspended in time
a place of passages
bridging the possible and unattainable
granted a choice to go forward
or re-travel the same dismal paths
previously, taken
i stood indecisive
on this bridge of transitions
then, like a vision
you appeared
hands out stretched
awaking and re-kindling
my concealed ambers of longings
a burgeoning small flicking fire
once concealed, sheltered and protected
from the winding confusing defeating detours
of hate and torment
pain and anger
lies and despair
carefully, cautiously
ignoring my skepticism i fled forward
towards your beckoning arms.
by butterflynxile
(c) 2006
art - http://www.gloriajoy.com/album/lithos/images/4morph.jpg
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