August Redux 2014 – baptismos

baptismos 2

Liquid whispers

from behind the veil.

 

Invitations to dance

accepted.

 

Absorbed by

succulent wetness.

 

Sinking

into warm release.

 

Dissolved in wonder,

embraced by namelessness,

diving into light,

drowning

in the confluence

of moisture and flesh.

 

Sliding

Into

Rebirth.

 

Painting and Poem by clinock.

 

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Ghosts – Hungry Ghost

hungrybird

Hungry ghost,

insatiable spirit,

I would free you first

amongst many if I could,

release you from your struggle

for relief and escape,

but you are mired so deep

in your painful longings

I cannot reach you.

 

Hungry ghost,

never satiated,

always searching, wild eyed

for the soothing elixir

that will fill the emptiness inside.

Tasting this and drinking that,

inhaling green and golden brown

mists of pleasure and illusion

to alleviate your loneliness.

 

Hungry ghost,

stripping the beauty of what is

with beaks of desire

to find fulfillment in what isn’t.

Hunting through nature and time

for more than is given.

Feeding on dreams

while the nurture of life waits

untouched around you.

 

Hungry ghost,

I would free me of you

and you of me,

exorcize these cravings

for the imagined, the untrue,

with chants of love

and a final act of will

dissolving these yearnings,

these haunted addictions

into clear mountain water.

 

painting and poem by clinock.

Ghosts – the flayed

FlayedAching to be clothed

in warm flesh again,

feeling it tight and smooth

against muscle and bone.

Hating this cold nakedness,

exposed to the core.

Waiting beyond time

for another skin to slide across

this osseous frame,

liquid, soft and trembling,

smelling of sun,

a fitting sensuality

once so tenderly touched

by a lover’s hands.

 

It is desires such as these

that binds a spirit

to this physical plane

of sweat and body,

this glistening intimacy.

 

Under the chill September sun

I deadhead the hydrangeas

and geraniums with shining

secateurs.

The withered blossoms fall

into my hand

and soon enough the foliage

will follow, dropping,

brown and wrinkled

onto the palm of earth,

and the garden will become

a murmuration of skeletons

waiting for new growth

to golden on their surfaces.

 

It is not so easy to face

this bone racked spirit in my night.

Its rattling visage is not pretty

and its pleading cries

come howling through my dreams.

 

I peer beneath desires

it breathes,

beneath its mask of dying,

into an endless nightmare

of longing,

reaching to be whole again,

refusing to accept

the flaying of time,

the peeling away

of the surfaces of care,

layer by layer

until there is nowhere else to go

except the beauty of the armature

flying free, released.

 

And you, my haunting,

whipping my heart

with cold filaments of silence.

It hurts, but you are freed now

and covered

by the bleeding veils of love.

 

mixed media painting and poem by clinock

Ghosts – the alone

ghost1Cracked and whispering,

smeared

across frayed and faded

veils of memory,

dissolving

fractured interstices

of stained days,

the one alone,

lost.

 

Loss and paradox

chime

dried bones in dank tunnels

beneath a burning bridge

where bright darkness

casts an eye,

staring down my soul,

stirring my cells

translucent.

 

Intimate spirit

trapped,

struggling for escape

but chained

to rusting remnants

and luminous ice,

a nameless shadow

craving release,

freedom

 

to be loved into

tree skin,

sleeping rocks and gulls,

wolf and worm,

petal and seed.

To enter floods and dust,

and the rising moon.

To let go.

Transcend.

 

Mixed media painting and poem by clinock.

Baptismos.

entering

Whispers answered

from behind the veil.

Invitations to dance

accepted.

Absorbed in blue

succulent wetness,

entering

deep rooms of warm release.

 

Dissolved in wonder,

confirmed by touch,

embraced with namelessness,

diving into light,

drowning

in the confluence,

moisture and flesh,

sliding into rebirth.

 

Painting and Poem by clinock.