Dear Muse

Waiting for the Nyquil dream to kick in, dear Muse, wondering if you bare grudges of invisibility waiting patiently for a song – wondering if you are ever seen or felt beyond so much brick and cement – pills and bills and pills and fear and more pills and bullshit – or alone and cold as I often feel – do you hate and cringe do you

feel absolute apathy abhor absolutes and apathy absolutely with the wreck and the torment of Time in waste- Time in limbo- paralyzed Time – Time in reverse- Time rapidly twisting and weaving forward to collapse the imprints of your footsteps beneath mine.  Dear Muse do you hate

the fancies chased – the rabbits chased – the garbage chased – the tyrants chased – the nightmares chased -the memories chased then locked behind a metal door – the rain might taste like Freedom if you were only let outside the machinery once in a while… dear Muse…the rain must taste like Freedom…even if it has become polluted – it still falls from a place where we can only dream or destroy – never conquer…. Just hope…. are you the song of Hope?

Can you see the stars beyond this filthy town? Can you see the stars within this filthy town?  Can you see the stars or shall we create them?  This time I will listen to what you have to say.  What color would you like the stars to be? We can paint them a color no one has ever seen – though you know I prefer black

Tethered to me I wonder

If you feel alone

If you see beyond

If you know

I didn’t mean to bury you alive.

Not in this.  Not in my prison.

I thought I was alone in here and I would have never built such an evil minefield maze surrounded by metal and impermeable stone had I known I wasn’t alone in here – had I known you were caressing me

I wonder if you know, do you know, do you know, do you know, you must know the number 13 must come from you and 5 is your love

So long neglected you stood in my shadows gently running your fingers through my hair waiting for me to sing to you to sing of you to sing for you to sing with you- our voices melting into one in heat and in ice in fluid copulation – souls intertwined to a single note that means…

Woman.

Dear Muse

in space and Time I have looked for your essence in my thoughts – disregarding the beauty of your individuality- single substance – fire and butterflies locked in my concrete cage you fade into a corner – unrecognized and isolated – yet hands always on my skin hands always in my hair hands always cradling my face hands on my thighs hands beneath my clothing hands in my veins hands pulling me deep into a coma sleep – there in isolation never alone always with you.  We never speak. I thought you were me.

Do your bones ache as mine do? Do you feel every cut?  Every bruise?

in attempts to make you me I have not studied the flecks of gold in your eyes or the softness of your fingertips – the calming taste of your kiss – soft lips pressed together breathing air into my lungs – the way you penetrate through the outer layers of my flesh deeper than any lover could ever hope to travel

Dear Muse I have forgotten that when your tongue is in my mouth it is indeed your tongue and not my own – filling me with inspiration – limbs wrapped around my body – the soft plump freedom of your breasts caressing my back – your saliva coating my teeth – it is your heaven I thirst for when my mouth is parched and deserts form in the droughts of my body.

Whose arms belong to whom? Your soft calves? My hair? Our lips? My fingertips? Your pulse? breath, sweat, tears, fluids flowing from entrance to exit – heavy and hot – light and cleansing

We live in this filth together – you and I – my most devoted lover – overlooked loyal angel – violet kisses – we are…

And the doubt and the hate and the fear and the cowering and the submission and the hiding and the running and the crying and the pills and the rape and the shoulders falling to the floor

must have confused you my Muse.

So let us rise. Rise. Rise. Rise.  I burn it all down – let it fall into ashes and spread through the world like so much dust settling in other’s prisons.  Microscopic ashen hopes rise. Rise. Rise. Rise.

Dear Muse – you and I – from the ashes we spread our wings and fly

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About tanyas13sonnets

poet and dreamer
This entry was posted in Poetry/Prose. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Dear Muse

  1. Wuji says:

    *hugs Tanya! I like this muse speech, this ache of working to connect again.

  2. RAVIII says:

    I’m awe-struck, suspended and speechless in discovery of this outlet you’ve created which, if to mention only one secret you let slip- one lesson I learned- is of your undeniable ease with which you master a language felt- not spoken, as in this most uplifting tragedy. Imaginable after ingesting the purest pill- getting a taste of your talent in truth was in trying to imagine your deepest desperation, was all to share a taste- your Muse of and for you.

    You write with such a refined rawness, in a cryptic ballad comes a powerful primal passion which seems to have exploded inside you and now bleeds out as words- words which paint your portrait- but more your panorama in prose- images of a desire you dream – to life, making possible the impossible- intermingled and indistinguishable lines of lovers who lost the individual finally- to feel whole entirely, compassion you want direly- opposites so wholesome and pure, yet laced with your taste for the best you’ve yet to have…while planting seeds in your sonnet, your pensive perspective began to pulsate to life, I saw those seeds become plants you made, once plowed and once pensive- once wilted- now lifted, thirst quenched now drenched in the heavy and hot- arising as you describe- now palpable is the taste of you transformed- your journey not forgot.

    • I am utterly speechless and taken aback by your in depth response and reaction to my poem. Your comments have just blown me away. First, thank you from the bottom of my heart for finding it and reading it – but even more for your profound response. Wow… just, thank you so much.

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