Purple Raven

Two spinning stars glow open free,

Whirling through black infinity,

E er drawn to each yet pulled apart,

By cosmic attractions and weary hearts.

Like glowing orbs in reverie,

Spinning down relentlessly,

Vowing hope and sadly warm,

Amix their flames alit by storm.

Broken hearts like sad suns burst,

With hectic fever to spray hell s worst,

Diminishing each one each other s glow,

In sadness wrought they sadness sew.

Bursting suns can settle down,

Grown less bright, they re ember bound,

To spin alone in blackness deep,

Aching for warmth and love to keep.

Some dying stars rekindle new,

From dusty wrath in anger spewed,

Fresh morning stars to play and shine,

Hers pure white, the blue one mine.

Shameless new suns in torrid display,

Spinning so close old hurts burn  way,

Bonding their fires, in joy they leap,

Dancing together in brightness deep.

jfi

08302008 final edit

Show me a truthful man
with a truthful smile
and no secrets
i want to know that when i look into your eyes
im looking at you
and not a barrier protecting deciept, and selfishness
i want to know that your touch is a touch of love
not lust. give me the man that i love and he will love me my heart is waiting for that right man

janet k. 

for my mother
you were the one who gave me life.
you taught me wrong from right.
you would kiss all my serapes and bruises,to make all better.
and when i was sick you was always there.sitting by my bed all night.
as i got older and had children of my own,i was still your little girl,even though iam grown.you were my best friend.i had to talk to you every day.and the day you got sick and we all sit by your bed,
telling you we love you mom.and now i dont know what to do with myseif.since you went away.life has been so hard with out you by my side,there has not been A DAY GO BYsince you left, that i havent cryed,my dear mother i want you to know i miss you more and more each day,i fine peace knowing you are in heaven,and that you are watching over your children,every night i pray to see your face,and get my hugs,i cant hardly wait my dear mother when its time for me to come and be with you,i will meet you at the gates.

wrote for mom that has past away and are in heaven looking down on us today i love you mom

LOVE YOUR BABY GIRL                                                        janet k.

God must have know there would be times we’d need a word of cheer,
Someone to praise a triumph or brush away a tear.
He must have known we’d need to share the joy of “little things”
In order to appreciate the happiness life brings.
I think He knew our troubled hearts would sometimes throb with pain,
At trials and misfortunes, or goals we can’t attain.
He knew we’d need the comfort of an understanding heart
To give us strength and courage to make a fresh, new start.
He knew we’d need companionship, unselfish….lasting….true,
And so God answered the heart’s great need with Cherished Friends….like you!! if you got a dear friend always be there for them dont let others come in the way of your good friends

wrote bye janet k

 

 

Heart Beat (new name)

The throbbing lights pulse through the night,

The burning’s just begun

See that one, she’ll taste just right

I think she might be won.

Roaring hunger!  Feed me!  Must!

Crimson fountains to find!

Soaring wide with needful lust,

All else he left behind!

Arms fearful clutch, one heart beats drinks

Long giddy rhythms sewn

Horrid, drainful pleasures link!

Come on now you’re owned.

Jfi4 20080318

Night Master 2

Hatefully cruel,

Lust not foreseen,

Eyes like a snake,

None faster,

A blood stained knife,

A killing machine,

That bloodied thing,

Night master.

Hope your hopes,

Dream your dreams,

Quake deep in your fear,

And disaster.

Feeling your joy?

Ain’t what it seems!

A deadly deep bite,

Night master.

It darkens smiles,

And freezes warm touch,

The pain it breeds,

Don’t matter.

Not a living man,

Just dark blood lust,

Ill fiend… untrue,

Night master.

jfi4

870127  rewrite 20080318

O boy, I woke to an empty house, could not find anyone! Then I remembered they were all helping a friend, and I was sleeping in! NOT. Just a pretty day, so I called my brother who I had not seen for weeks and we decided to hook up at his house. Back in 2004 he had a nice little rancher style home on the tail end of Bayou Chico, nice bit of narrow bayou, and a boat house with his yard yacht hangng from the beams.

Then hurricane Ivan smashed Penacola. The next morning, our business was destroyed, every home and rental we owned took damage, and my brothers house was under 8 feet of storm surge, totally destroyed. Every memory, photo, stitch of clothes, ruined or lost forever. Fast forward to yesterday, 2008!

I grabbed my leathers, rode to the local leather shop and picked up one repaired jacket and dropped off another. Damn it was a nice crisp morning and it was nice to have my old school leather jacket back.

I took my time drivng back towards Bayou Chico. Four years earlier, I would have never believed I’d be on my very own scooter, headed over to sit on the patio of my brothers new house on the bayou. It’s worth over a million, but we built it ourselves, so he being the president of the family company, got a good discount, hahahaha. I dropped off a few things I had brought with me and we quickly migrated to the back patio, by the pool, and hot tub, next to Bayou Chico. The only thing that survived that storm, was his old boat house, and his boat. It still hangs, the lovely yard yacht, ever there a reminder of what we all went through, the town destroyed, lives turned upside down. Wallets emptied overnight, everything gone!

Well, sitting on the back deck, drinking sweet Tanqueray with a little ice, we never once even talked about all the sadness and destruction that mother nature can bring down upon us. We talked about making a run to the liquor store, but the Tanqueray was fine. We talked about me quitting smoking… which was fine too, I need to. We talked about our kids, famly, and all the rust that builds up in a man’s life over time.

Mostly, we just sat and sipped and enjoyed being alive. Storms matter. Property and losses matter. Businesses and ways to make a living matter. But nothing in this world matters more than this: Sitting on your younger brothers patio, in your bug splattered leathers, sipping sweet Tanqueray, on a cool Saturday afteroon, and listening to the sea eagles (Ospreys) and Redtail Hawks bicker screeching at one another is just about the best way in the world to spend a few hours. Several hours later, a samidge and some GatorAde-the national drink of Florida-in my gullet, I slipped on my new spiffy polarized bazillion dollar HD glasses/goggles, roared my Pearl to life and slipped out of brothers new circular drive way with the palms and landscaping. Looking over my shoulder as I thundered away, he with his prematurely white hair was still sipping on a Tanqueray and enviously smiling as he waved goodbye.

Laughter fills these hills,

these mountains of my heart

where a wind blows down always,

coming, rushing from afar.

Your are the wind and as you come

and go again,

touchintg me here, then there,

clouds will you bear?

These mountains are my spirit.

I give you them nonethelses,

knowing that with the great sorrow

and sadness, comes often tender caress.

I kow cold winds will blow

and the joy of spring will follow.

Sumer full of yellow brilliance

will hail autumns mellow silence.

In each passing moment

as you flow through my life,

I will yearn to live the next,

whether lighted with joy or shaded with strife.

Share with me in communion

the budding of new life from our union.

These mountains of my mind

and the changing currents of love

you bring

the forest of my thoughts.

jfi4

760115

Hatefully cruel,

So terribly mean,

Eyes like a snake,

None faster,

A blood stained knife,

A killing machine,

That evil thing,

Night master.

Hope no hopes,

Dream no dreams,

Quake deep in your fear,

Disaster.

Feel your joy?

Ain’t what it seems!

A deadly trick,

Night master.

It darkens smiles,

And freezes soft touch,

The pain it breeds,

Don’t matter.

Not even a man,

Just lack of trust,

Ill fiend… untrue,

Night master.

jfi4

870127

What makes me seek in bottles deep

for solace that evades?

That fluid fiend just helps me keep

up fraudulent charades.

You see just one, but Janus faced,

capricious burns my flame.

Time’s looking glass reflects my state.

Sad man the child became!

Lashed to liquid lucidity.

Life’s fire is waning low.

Grim reaper calls us soon enough.

Let lonesome liquors flow…

jfi4

870620

Man

Between here and now

And now an then

Joy is all that we have.

jfi4

870208

Throbbing lights pulse through the night,

The burnings just begun.

See that one, she moves just right.

I think she might be won.

Roaring hunger!  Feed it!  Must!

Lofty mounts to find,

Soaring wide with needful lust

All else we left behind.

Arms clutched tight, hearts beat in sync,

‘long giddy rythms blown.

Torrid, florrid pleasures linked,

Feelings we’ve never known.

jfi4

870208

The sundered land

Nether space

Not high

Called low

Worlds interface

This other where

Cumbered under

Mounts high

Falls low

Crashing thunder

Where old paths cross

New ones fail

Step high

Tracks low

Dark ravens rale

There spirits flow

Truth in non-hue

Rush high

Hear low

Somber green blue

 jfi408082007

Crickets chirp.  Night birds sing.

Cool spring nights, and…

I’m free!  Man.  Free!

Rolling waves, squawking gulls.

Balmy summer, and…

I’m free!  Man!  Free!

Music.  Sounds.  Heartfelt beat.

Endless long nights, and…

I’m free!  Man!  Free!

Free!  Man!  I’m free…

Just living memories, and…

Do you believe?

A name is the man.

A word you can see.

Call me free man.

That’s me.

I’m free!

jfi4

790409

Forever Time

The morning sun’s resting on the east hills

Ready to soar, the noon skies he fills

He pauses awhile, he’s yearning for sleep

He slides to the dark, to nighttime’s blue deep

The moon, she reflects, the sun glows

Lighting the night sky, soft brilliant she flows

She pauses awhile,  for his touch she aches

She glides on to dawn, where he overtakes

Fall greets winter’s deep virgin snows

After the storms a bright rainbow glows

Spring mates summer with rain’s sweet tears

The days turn to months, then followed by years

Sometimes there’s just no reason or rhyme

But love’s sweet caress, and forever time…

jfi4

19990401

Dark and weary land

great you take your toll.

My harvest you have taken.

You’ve reaped what I have sown.

My gladness does not comfort.

A heart within me cries.

You see, you’ve taken love from me.

You traded love for lies.

Never sadness felt so heavy!

Nor, loneliness pierced my heart.

Such a deadly force.

It tears my life apart.

Good gods, you see me stumble.

You see my weakness bare.

Whoever you are that made me.

Show me that you care.

jfi4

790228

Seagull…

Do you simply fly?

Or, do you soar in ecstasy,

Sweeping silently from peak to peak

Of foam crested waves,

Where in summer’s calmness you rest and nest?

Life would be less if you did not rise,

In wind swept skies… to conquer the clouds,

Gliding aimlessly where earth is despised

And air is clear…

And sun is joy.

People…

Do you simply live?

Or, have you found bright mystery

Written in the hearts of men?

It’s a wilde wide world…

Where only in the calmness of the spirit

you can rest.

Life would be less if you did not rise,

From wind swept lives, and all earthly ties,

Where earth is despised… to find in the words

That the truth is clear…

And the Sun is joy.

jfi4

740909

Alive, she smiles!

Bright startled eyes.

The world her open thighs.

Moans, bucks, and sighs.

So gleefully flies.

Wilde pleasure in her cries! 

jfi4

870105

Not very often

Do we get what we want.

Even less often

Do we ask for what we need.

I guess it is very strange

To simply ask for what is right

And have the gods give us both.

jfi4

741113

Warm slow summer showers came early this season to Macleod’s Station.  The twins, Micah and Mark, gleefully danced in the rain like cavorting bear cubs.  Born fourteen months apart, they were surprisingly close in size and maturity.  Micah, now seven, stood just a breath shorter than his younger brother.  Sara hummed as she finished the table, her tranquil lilting voice riding on the savory smells of her mountain kitchen.  Placing my pad and pen on the arm of the chair I rose to the call of an early dinner, to cues learned long ago and well.  Standing in the shaded hall, I could see the afternoon sun flashing through the rain and off the pond just down the hill below the kitchen window.  Sara sensed me, I never understood how, and turned to move into my arms.  Then pain and blackness, falling and vertigo, and Sara was no more.

Water like a snake trailed across the tilted hewn floor of the cave.  The cell was my world, all I had ever known–all that I could remember.  Cool damp air wafted through the woven metal door. It heightened my chills and fever as salt on an open wound.  Odd voices and hysterical laughter beyond the door ebbed to silence when I coughed and then groaned in pain.  The rough fiber mat dug into my shoulders, burned into my calves, but I waited before trying to move.  Hoping against hope I wanted this to be a dream that fades on waking.  Thirst decided.  Pulling myself warily across the floor I touched my tongue to the water.  It was cool and had the taste of water washed under miles of stone.  Still unsure of my senses I drank slowly from the rivulet, then more greedily.  Unable to control the nausea, only agonizing heaves comforted me.  The splash of water found its way back to the rivulet and out under the door into the flickering yellow light.  Minutes or maybe hours later the light faded and I with it.

There was food, but not often and not much.  When the food did come, it was bland, cold, and unfamiliar.  Only the bread resembled anything I had ever eaten.  It too had a strange texture and a bitterness like burnt almonds, but it mattered not to a starving man.  Days passed and then a month if the stubble on my face was any show.  Fever and hunger loosened my teeth.  Then while I slept a tooth lodged in my throat, tearing it badly before I could stop gagging.  Through the night my bloody spittle painted the rivulet pale pink and it too flowed out under the door.  The next morning a doctor and two guards came and took me away.

Through narrow winding halls we walked one after the other.  The doctor followed me while the two guards placed themselves before and after us.  Musty earth smells mixed with the undeniable odors of decaying flesh hung heavily in the humidity.  Once I heard a whimper as a puppy who has lost his mother might make.  Quickly a guard rasped out an order in his language–which I could not understand–and the whimpering ceased immediately.  After an hour or so our pathway started ascending rapidly.  Weak from hunger and injury I was tiring and had to stop and rest every ten or fifteen paces.  The guards grew agitated, but the doctor quieted them with a wave of his hand.  Thankful for his consideration I tried to speak to him.  This angered all three of my captors.  After they had slapped me several dozen times with open palms the doctor pushed me forward.  Wearily ascending the cavelike halls I struggled on, not eager to be pummeled again.  Occasional darkness in the hallway prompted the captors to murmur not unlike the murmurs of one praying.  What had I found myself in?  More so, where had I found myself.

As quickly as the darkness fell a new zone lighted by some source I could not identify would burst upon us.  That was why I did not notice when we walked out of the hall into full daylight, not until the warm salty breeze wakened my senses and pulled me out of my near stupor.  We were standing on rock.  Rock that extended in every direction for maybe 300 paces and then abruptly fell from view as if  forming a cliff face.  From where I stood, a sea or ocean stretched into the distance in every direction, broken only by white frothy wave tops and windblown fog.

The doctor clasped my hand and walked me to one edge of the rock.  It fell off at an angle too steep to walk or climb in my condition.  Far below, maybe seven hundred feet, the waves bore against the stony base of the cliff.  No sand or shale beaches spread from the cliffs and the water had the same steel blue color that extended to the horizon. 
jfi4

01122007        

Rik’s lips curled with emotion.  Solemnly gritting his teeth, he pulled the blade from deep within the dying chimeras chest.  As he wiped the knife off, the dark velvety blood left a sharp stain on his breeches.  Twenty minutes later rainbow dust had coated the crusting blood on his hands giving them a surreal brown velvety appearance.  That was his inheritance, his nemesis,  and his world.  Velvet.

 Scouting ahead from his squad, Rik had chanced upon the trog.  Crouching behind a  heavy fern cactus he looked at his options.  It was obvious the thing bore traits of  Homo Sapiens and Pan Troglodyte.  In the soldier phyles, man-ape chimeras were min-modified chimpanzees with larger brains and an upright two legged gait.  These trogs were strong, intelligent, loyal, possessing animal cleverness, and very fertile.  They bred true to their outlawed species, Homo Troglodyte.  But, trogs always looked like apes.  Before now. The abomination before him was either a horrible breeding accident, or something worse, an intentional para-equal crossing of man and chimp–not just focused gene splicing.  Body hair, skin color and texture on the manchim closely matched that of humans.  The light brown complexion was flawless and supple.  Nose, lips, and jaw bore the likeness of a robust man.  Eyes, supraorbital ridge, ears and sloping forehead accurately resembled a chimpanzee.  Its braincase however was large and jutted backward giving the head the appearance of precarious balance.  Limb proportions were very close to human but the hands, feet and impressive musculature were all ape.  The trog probably had very good eyes and ears.  Judging from his past experience Rik decided the trog probably was agile as well.  To be sure, Rik waited for the manchim to move around.

                He watched, wondering if its gait and posture would present danger or opportunity.

                After a pause of  fifteen  the trog moved from its kneeling position, stood and walked to a small shelter made of fern cactus boughs and grassmoss bricks.  Though it walked upright, the creature’s stance was splayed.  Tensing, Rik sensed that the wobbly gait and posture were somehow focused and assertive.  No opportunity there!  The gentle sigh of a fern cactus frond nearby caused the trog’s ears to twitch.  The melancholy melody keened in the boughs above and around Rik, drawing the trog’s attention his way.  It turned and faced him.  Their eyes met, man and danger!   Rik crashed through the heavy undergrowth of young fern cactus fronds.  Leaping into the small clearing he drove his permalloy blade deep into the creature’s chest where he hoped it wore its heart.  Collapsing on the dewing grassmoss, the trog’s chest heaved violently as if shear force of will might make it live.  Glazed awareness flashed in its huge brown eyes.  Sighing mournfully it rasped, “I want to live.”  And died.  Afterward Rik had searched the body, its clothing and belongings.  Nothing out of the ordinary guessed Rik, until he found the small book stuffed in a side pouch of the creatures rucksack.

                The book was handwritten in wonderful calligraphy.  Unable to read the language, Rik was still able to surmise it was a log or diary of some sort. The dating sequence of each entry clued him.  Though many languages were spoken on Velvet, all used Arabic numerals.  The last entry was dated today relative to Greenwich time on Earth.  Traditionally when this was converted to local day cycles, the dates were preceded by and followed by a question mark.  Either this trog failed to make the conversion or stuck with standard time dating for another reason.  What could a deformed man-ape trog, speaking accent free though raspy manglish, need with a diary.  A beautifully handwritten log.  Written in a foreign language.  A language foreign to Velvet.  Rik intended to find out, but later.  Waiting, he watched the ground.  Grassmoss spread across the trog cadaver and begin its hungry work, absorbing the vital nutrients harbored in the dead body.  Another 15 minutes and the trog was just a memory outlined in a lumpy mound of grassmoss.

                Shouldering the trogs rucksack Rik stealthily backtracked.  It would be a good time to test the lookouts.  Within fifty yards of the rendezvous point Rik sensed danger.  The squad should have already challenged his approach.  Then he smelled it, the sickening tang of copper, of lots of spilled blood.  Resisting the urge to retreat he inched forward while making no sounds.  He heard  none as well.  Edging around a fern cactus trunk he could see the bodies on the ground around the camp.  Arranged too well to have fallen that way, they must have been slain while sleeping.  Counting the bodies from a safe distance he noted only five men and two women.  That meant two women had managed to escape or were lying dead at their posted lookouts.  Knowing his squads methods Rik searched out the likely sentry posts.  The first one was unmanned or abandoned.  The second post was manned or had been a few minutes ago.   The gory mess, what was left of the girl’s body, had yet to be absorbed by the unforgiving grassmoss that girdled the Velvet prairie.  The recency of death meant the enemy were still within ten or fifteen minutes range.  Driven to save or rescue the remaining troop, Rik choked back tears and forewent giving last rites to his fallen comrade.

                Fear stoked by an epileptic desire to live and find Megg led him back to the first lookout.  She was the last remaining squad member and his bondmate.  Closer examination showed the spot had been occupied by a human recently, just a few minutes ago.  Many signs were ambiguous and probably left by the murdering trogs.  The bastards had wiped out most of his squad.  Staring into the forest southward Rik could see rainbow dust settling out of the light west wind.  The many hued specs, the Velvettii analogs for spores, pollen, or something of the sort, were microfine making it impossible not to breathe them.  The soft pad of a foot settled onto the grassmoss behind him.  His heightened senses felt tiny ripples run through the grassmoss from the added weight of the footstep.  Spinning left and low, Rik prepared to fight, killing knife drawn, knees flexed.  Megg faced him, crouching and ready to charge.  Before he could speak she hurled her long knife.  It went high over his left shoulder as he ducked.  Megg’s eyes were still fixed, but focused on the spot he stood moments earlier.  Her blade imbedded itself to the handle in the neck of another trog, much like the one he’d killed.  Realizing Megg had saved his life, that they were both still alive, he signaled for quiet.  The coughing, gurgling, gasps for air slowly receded to faint panting as the trog’s life ebbed.  More trogs moved in the shadows.  Leading Megg by the arm Rik sprinted east over a small ridge toward the coast.  Racing wearily in the undergrowth they left a heavy twisting trail through the lush fern cactus forest.  Hiding their tracks from the trogs seemed a lost cause under the circumstances.

                In an hour the two were free of the pseudo-jungle.  In the open the air was much cooler and dry.  The nether of grassmoss prairie stood between them and the dim ocean haze in the distance.   Not a hill or valley showed in the bizarre one hundred and eighty degree panorama edging the forest.  It was the flattest piece of real estate on Velvet, never varying more than a foot in elevation on its path to the seashell downs. 

                At least nineteen hours separated them from downs where the prairie died and fell madly through  the mountainous stony coast for another 14 kloms .  Resting, they took water and food from their small rucksacks and ate quickly and quietly.  Reloading his pack, Rik’s hand brushed against the trog diary. 

                Using handglish he told a quick tale of the events that ended in the man-trog’s death at his hands.  He ended with, [I was so afraid you were hurt.  That maybe I'd lost you.] 

                Gently Megg returned the diary to Rik’s pack and for a moment rested her hand on his.  Eyes locked intensely as they donned their gear.  Slowly signs bubbled to the surface and Megg, with a tear on her left cheek, handspoke, [We'll talk of the dead when we can see the moons both shine on the sea.  Our unborn must live.  For now we run.]

                [A child!] Stunned by her revelation Rik’s hands stammered, searching for the right words.

                [More later Rik.  Please.  I chose this and that matters.]  Softly, yet risking exposure, Megg spoke the words that always made Rik shudder in awe, “I love you.” 

                Rik watched her as she surveyed the grassmoss wasteland to the east.  Megg’s straight red hair shown like fire.  The setting sun pulsed blood red in the rainbow dust. At that moment Rik knew he would die if need be to get her safely to the coast.  Compasses were useless on the prairie.  Using her pocket sextant and a fabric calendar Megg took a quick sextant reading.  For  few minutes they planned their escape while considering weapons.   Choosing javelins, they unlocked the 30 centimeter shafts.  Extended to 2 meters the spears made formidable weapons.  Without a word they started onto the prairie, slowing building up speed.  Within minutes they reached their strength and settled into a race across the nether. 

jfi4

04072000  

Falling night’s dark, awake I lay,

Looking to heaven, nothing to say,

Feeling I’m lost, all thoughts at bay,

Cries in my heart, I think I’ll pray.

Fearing for you, awake I stay,

Wondering of you, of life’s foul  play,

Knowing how hurt may come your way,

Sensing the pain, I think I’ll pray.

Smiling, morn comes.  I hit the day,

Looking for clues that flitter away.

Befriending’s so rough, I’m made of clay,

Hoping to help, I think I’ll pray.

Rising noon lights fears blowing like hay,

Nothing to give up, no words to say,

Rending my soul, I make my way,

Kneel in my heart, I think I’ll pray.

Evening breaks down my long hard day,

Working for ought, I see you sway,

Delving for truth, and hearts gone astray,

Closing my eyes, I think I’ll pray.

Falling night drops, awake I lay,

Staring at nothing, something to say,

Seeing none’s lost, I try my way,

Cries in my heart, I think I’ll pray.

jfi4

11082001

When he walked into the room, he could see the smile forming on her lips.  She moved her head slightly, just enough to make her hair flow across her shoulders like  waves of golden wheat blowing in the harvest sun.  “Hi honey,” she whispered, careful not to wake the children as it was very late.  “What took you so long?”

            “Got caught in traffic, I was on the other side of town, at a curio shop.  Look what I found for you,” he spoke as he handed her the velvet case.  Blushing, she took it gently and held it to her breast.  Warmth flooded through the room as they looked into each others eyes.  “Oh honey, I love you,” like an ancient sigh, the words welled up from her heart.  They fell into each others arms, like tomorrow was only a dream, and yesterday a shadowy fantasy.  The now was theirs.

            Gently he kissed her, then more savagely as a man who hungers.  She folded into his arms and molded her body to his.  Her green eyes like emeralds, glowing in the darkened room, he touched her cheek and trembled in awe.  Never in his life had he known or hoped to know someone so genuine and real.  Never in his life had he been so deeply happy.  Kissing her forehead, he said, “I longed for you, for this day, and now know that my longings are yours.”

            “Oh my…” was all that she could say, as floodgates opened and the tears came to them both.  “Can I have a minute, I want to make something for you?”  Sitting in the darkened room he heard her in the kitchen, then the back of the house.  After a short while she returned to him and said, “Follow me my Lord,” with her husky, sultry voice.  As they passed a window, he saw she was wearing a flowing white cotton gown, and her lips were red.  Entering the bedroom, amazed wonder filled his heart.  Near the bed on a night stand lay a small cauldron with incense burning in it.  Beside it lay the athame.

            She asked him to get relaxed, so he went to the bathroom and undressed, putting on his old silk robe, the one that he’d never worn.  Coming back he found her chanting softly and inviting him to join the circle.

            Once the circle was drawn, they sat facing on the bed, trembling and smiling and feeling complete.  Then she handed him a small silver cup and they shared from it sweet herb tea, and whispered of high magick and wonders.  Then as she continued to chant softly like a lilting songbird, he opened the velvet case and removed the pearl handled comb.

            Shadowsouls ignited in desire, he tenderly began to brush her hair.  Her sighs as he adored her were like the magick chortles of a mourning dove.  And soon he finished, and she turned to face him.  Casting her eyes down in elegant modesty, she slowly opened her gown to show her heart to him.  The tears came again, but this time more freely as they melted into each other.  With startled eyes, they met each other in their souls and joined in ecstasy what they had only dreamed of before.

            Later, spent from the fierceness of their love they lay holding each other.  Their bodies glistened as they molded there forms together.  Kissing softly at first, they whispered more of high things as well as low.  A hunger formed on her lips as she searched eagerly for his mouth and tongue.  For minutes, hours, days, they kissed while the moon slowly rose over the window sill.  Then he turned and put his head on her belly and kissed her there, while she found him with her hands.  Slowly, savoring each shallow breath of her smell, he slid his tongue down to her gingerly licking and sucking and nibbling.  His smell was strong in her, and he tasted their mingled hearts in her loins.  Kissing her deeply there, he watched her thighs quiver and her pelvis rock with desire. 

            Deliciously he devoured her and she moaned and bucked with joy.  Feeling her close, he placed his hand on her .  She gasped with joy at the moment his hands touched her and she took it all the way.  Almost unconscious, she came and flooded him with passion.  Gently, he rolled away, and atop her.  Entering her with his fullness, his back arched almost at once and he poured himself out into her.  Limp with release, he fell exhausted on your chest and moaned and muttered like a child.

            Hours later the moon was near the top of the window, and they wakened together at once.  Lying close beside each other, there eyes just nearly touching, they smiled and rollled their eyes and teased one another.  Feeling the emptiness that only comes from love’s release, he said, “Pancakes!” 

            Sitting on the floor near the bed they shared the hotcakes and strawberries, and a small glass of juice.  A drip of honey gleamed on her left breast and he kissed it away for her.  Without cues, they both crawled on the bed and he lay on his back and she rested her head on his chest.  Snuggling closer, and making little impish sounds, she inched her leg up over his and place her arm on his thigh.  In moments they fell into a bright sleep…  

jfi4

07231999

Dark Blood Mistress

Alive, she smiles through bloodiest tears!

The crimson black, bright startled eyes.

Red darkened worlds in her opened thighs.

Restored by moaning, bucking, and angry fucking.

She dies. Dark whore for more, she flies.

Vampire pleasures and treasures, not lies.

Dark Blood Mistress  

.

for laura… a rewrite of “Mistress”,  “Dark Blood Mistress” now belongs to her to do with what she will.

jfi4

02182008

The mystical theory of soulmates following each other through time is not new or even mine.  I studied it once as a  hobby.   Sleep fasting from dawn on Friday until Monday afternoon, I fell easily through the veil to my knees before the Goddess of harvests, and full moons

“Throughout time they have joined.  Forever reborn, he , often the male, searches longingly for her, his soulmate.  She, often the female, desires the tender finding. 

Reincarnates.  In Babylon, and ancient Peru they pair and share.  On Oklahoma’s dusty plains they find life while others find despair. 

Lives they win in the finding.  Generations they wonder alone. 

Wed in the ancient way they cherish, he searches that she not be alone.  To hold her and share as her godmate.  To drink the sweet herb tea of finding, and brush her hair with his pearl handled comb.” 

” It is a wondrous reality when they couple, and a fantasy when he keeps it alone.”

And the tale ends and begins…

            Forn stood watching the Moon rise.  The valley he searched for lay hidden  just over the second ridge.   He could feel it in his weary knees, his twisted, broken age worn body, he could feel it in his heart, she was near.

Along the crest of the nearest ridge, hemlock and poplar, backlit by the moon, sang their dance of finding. 

Eons growing and maturing into the wonder of this magik night, the trees :::whispered::: softly to the stars. 

            :::not knowing for whom:::                       :::a path:::

:::another way:::

                                                            :::here:::

:::will/does/has:::

:::Here comes, he comes:::                                                            

:::find it:::

                                                            :::the findings soon:::

            :::She waits, she waits:::

            :::there look a:::                     …..and the whispers blend with the breeze.

            An ancient poplar, a Lord to his kind, echoes the cries of them all.

 Kneeling to the Goddess, Forn found strength to carry on.  Soft lights filtered through the leaves, Moon Mother showing the way. 

            Finding the fading path in the moonlight startled him and Forn’s heart began to heave in his weary chest. 

Pulling with his staff he worked slowly up the winding trail.  Dew glistened like diamonds, his path was strewn with starfire. 

Passing near a cliff, he wedged his staff in a crevice and pulled himself up over the crest.  A lone poplar, the largest he had ever seen stood guarding the path.  The kingly tree blocked the way to the right and he edged slowly along the rocking scree, sliding and slipping down the hill.  After a few minutes he turned to look for his path, and the poplar was no longer there, but his path was laid, and he continued on. 

Shadows loomed ahead, then the Moon cleared the clouds and the ridge fell into view.  As he neared the hollow between the ridges the path became easier to follow.

           Another half-night and he reached the open glade.  A mist fell on that garden-like place while the Sunrise flirted with the dark eastern sky.  At the far edge of the clearing a small stone cabin stood placidly in the night.  No lights filtered through the windowed walls but a thin stream of smoke languidly rose toward the closing night. 

            For a pillow he used a stone, his cover the shadows and stars.  Waiting for the morning, dreams came sadly.  Horror and wonder were the things he had known.  Without the one, each other alone, he and his godmate waited for the finding.  And he slept.

           The Sun greeted the day with his brilliance.  She, young and full with life, stirred and went from her cottage.  It was when she knelt by the brook for water that she had seen him.  Like a child he lay safe in her valley.  The warm morning Sun washed his weary face with rays of gold but sadness overwhelmed her.

 While she stood watching, the years of pain and sorrow eased themselves a bit from his weary brow.  Wondering who he was, she knelt and touched him.  The years had taken their toll on him.  How could she know what she had not known?    Upwelling on fire, she knew him not, yet knew him like a mother knows the cries of her baby.  And he opened his eyes.

           All sadness left the mans face and years of pain faded from his ancient eyes.  Unable to hold his pleading stare she cast her look down and shuddered in fear and longing.  Yet she did not move away from his song.  Taking his hand she led him to her warm home.  He spoke none and rested the sleep of a man not known to such pleasures for v