sockmonkey

You killed the gardener.

You set him up, you watched him live.
You watched him as he cared
For what is delicate and beauty.
He found the injured flowers
And cared them back to health.
He planted seed and watered them
And kept them from the ravens.
He waked and watched and pruned and bent.
He protected weak from strong.
And every day, you grew more jealous...

So, you killed the gardener.

There is nothing redder than the fox.
There is nothing blacker than the crow.
There is nothing greyer than the phantoms,
Borne in the minds of tribeless women,
And men who keep no women...
Carried on waves of tears and bourbon,

That you used to kill the gardener.

There is nothing thicker than the pathos
Like laudum on the sponge,
That makes us sink in comfort
Into the death of that
Which is the best within ourselves.

You killed the gardener.

There is nothing clearer than the love
Used to maintain a garden.
Nothing whiter than the seasons
That carry witness to this all.
And there is nothing purer
Than the witness~gardener's widow.

So I will ride the backs of seasons
To the place of where his death was made.
And I will wear the dark blue linen twighlight of my love.
I will wear three satin frogs.
One at the pulse point of my throat.
One near the place my heart burns.
One at the underneath of arm,
Where protection is offered to the ones
Who have the nerve to ask forgiveness.

I have to see with my own two eyes,
That his body stirs no more.
I will build a burning shrine
Deep within my heart.
On it's alter I will lay Zinneas and Dragon Trees.
And the rememberances of Roosters. 

I will face you, closely, then...
You, who killed the gardener.

I will touch you with my carbon fingers,
Soft, upon your lips.
You will feel the heat in me
When my breath mixes sharp with yours.
I will kiss you, next to nothingness,
A tingle and a whisper.

You will look into my eyes,

And you will see the pain of death,
And veiw solid cries and laughter 
Of children yet unborn.
You will gaze on riches made
By breasts and roses chained and sold.
You will see genocide of nations,
Saviors being sacraficed.
All that is in a widow's eyes,
There is nothing greener than her gardens.

And you will see a mirror there.
If you dare to keep on looking,
Smashed mercury and diamonds...
And You will see yourself, a King.
Owning wisdom and endurance.
Clear and pure, white, red and black
And green...

All that would be yours...

If you had not killed the gardener.

~Cake~

It's so very very cold in here,
I think I'm bleeding way too much.
I've crawled to where I think the opening is,
It's always blocked and wrong.

They've left moxa on my eyes.
Burning, burning, through the lids,
Curling flaming flesh like silk
Where the cigarette has touched it.

And now I'm dancing for the money.
My sailor's hat is jaunty but I hate you.
I crucify their want~me succubus
by standing through their sticky palms. Wear stilhetto heels.

My Dreams.  My Dreams...
They scare you.
And now you tell me, "Hush you up."

My Heart.

My Dreams.  My Dreams...
They haunt you reach you.
And now you force me take a pill.

My Mind.

My Dreams.  My Dreams...
They make you love me.  "Bless me, Father, I have sinned."
You chain me to the bed.

My Sex.

My Dreams.  My Dreams...
They shock you.

My Soul.

You shock me.

~A Pearl~

Currently listening : Take Them On, On Your Own By Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Release date: By 02 September, 2003

He, a stranger
from the Snake Club
dressed in black all.
Very thin.
Japanese hair to his waist...
Striking,
as if on cue...
My servant for the day.
Laced my corset from behind me.
Dressed me all in satin red 
and boots.
combed my hair, twisted  tight,
and set it with accoutrements.
Arranged the velvet cowl
and hood.
Painted my mouth with heavy
brush
and blood.

We never spoke,
both he 
or I.
I do not know his name.

He pulled the gloves onto my hands
covered arms
and illustrations...

And led me out
pale
eyes extra green,
into the golden hand.

~Cake~

Your Hatreds and your Insecurities devour You.

You scream out in the night,
Begging for Someone to stop the horror
Of this senseless death.

And when You give up hope,
No~One good enough to open up the door...
No~One to hear You asking,  "Save Me..."
You think You must choose to save Yourself...

You submit to Their power.
And  You become the One who eats You.

~Cake~

She waited one hundred and thirty one days, hoping for the dead.

She sat quietly, and moved nothing but her eyes.

And when they came collecting money from the dead,
She paid them with her own.
The energy of life is more powerful than greed, she said.

And when they came collecting the paintings of the dead,
She dispersed them among his loved and lovers.
Knowing that friendship is more powerful than "cultured" people led.

And when they came collecting the writings of the dead,
She burned them all,
Protecting his insanities from the curious and the wicked.

Finally, they came collecting the belongings of the dead.
This is when she opened wide the door.
"The living will need nothing that the dead do not,"  she said.

She buried, small, a box, hidden in the yard.
Rings and mummied kittens were the treasures that she hid.

And when her heart grew weary, too heavy to work, anymore,
She went inside her house, and Silence shaved her head.
Silence was her companion, then, her servant, and her bed.

You say that she is a graceless warrior.
You say that you would learn her.
You alway keep your promises...
This is what you said.

But the master doesn't always choose the student.
She has chosen you instead.

You dared her for birds on wings of bleu, and hearts afire, red.

She is learning, now, her master.
As she learns herself.
You step this way, she counters that.
She has begun to learn your blocks.
You are the book of mysteries that needs be learned and read.

You caught her by surprise, just once.
It will not happen again.
Why would she give up on the living?

She waited one hundred and thirty one days, hoping for the dead.

~Cake~

Currently listening : Above By Mad Season Release date: By 14 March, 1995

 

Frozen.  We start home tomorrow.  Drive the bus to the ferry.

Then down the west coast  toward home.

San Fransisco and Oakland on the way.

~Cake~

"Where did she go?"

They said, they said.

Into her heart, and then her head.

"I live here all alone, you see...
  where no~one tells me good from bad."

"And when I cry...
  Or if I'm sad,

No~one says, 'I said, I said.'"

~Cake~

Currently listening :
Soft Dangerous Shores
By Chris Whitley
Release date: By 26 July, 2005

 I pressed my fingertips to  my lips, tonight,
Your world two hours deeper...

And touched your worried brow.
You thought I thought you sleep.

Did you feel it?

I sent it on the silent lightning
That woke me from my own sleep.
My world two hours darker.

I have not felt the touch of you,
Your hands pressing where my thumb
becomes my hand,
in circles,
healing where the pain comes from.
Do you think I think you think I sleep?

And do you?

Your world two hours newer...
Or is it mine?

~Cake~

The rain just began, outside.  The most fierce and most eloquent time of year...
                                             When the end of summer storms begin.

Currently listening :
In a Beautiful Place Out In the Country
By Boards of Canada
Release date: By 28 November, 2000

Atlas shrugged, all fell
John Currin escaped the net
Or did he, really?

I heard a pin drop.