The center of the City is a hub..
the roads leading out (back in);
the spokes of a wheel

The road alongside,
is traveled  by so many
I am the rust on the rim
that aches  its way in

It is so much work
to return to that of Titanium
The beautiful Hub begs
  I do my best.

I marvel at the fact
that I have not yet even  begun
to find what my best really is.


Let it be..     No..

  May it be..



   ..that  of the world

           of  the  Unlimited

You've made yourself  miniscule ..

in order to fit in to my Bloodstream
You are unsure..  not knowing

That there is a  chamber  within me
that has been carved out   solely

     for you--

The warmth of blood-flow,  caressing;
Bathing,  the you that feels you can't..

  That feels  there isn't..

That believes  there can never be
  A Home such as this--

       .. for you ;;
Residing, in the central part
    of me.

Alone  in the  chamber
  of your room..
You can't understand  why

things are different,  now;
..Why  everything you do

and everything  you say

   Feels so incredibly,,

   Incredibly  Warm

You make yourself easy to be seen..
    by someone like me.
The only  thing I would think you would  find
  as surprising

Is why it has taken this  long
for a beautiful Thoroughbred in Spirit
such as you
to finally be seen
for exactly who it is that you are

Free from assessment or judgement,
I would venture so far to say  
that the greater  central part
of who it is that you are,  
is (sadly so)  tremendously lonely.

Again, not a judgement  at all,
but an assessment of life in general.
A lover like me would be perfect,
but I am  (as you could guess)
spiritually volatile in how deeply I push--

..Even within the normal  give and take
of everyday things. Sometimes  even
one well placed  word  can bring one
off-center and into  (and towards)
an even deeper part  of their own journey.

Most gorgeously-luscious
Thoroughbreds such as yourself
usually  pick less 'challenging' partners
in order to have a somewhat more
'stable' home life..

..But sadly with that also,  develops
a relationship where the deeper,
   more exctasy-based and driven
      parts  of  you

   are left with no choice
   but to become, dormant..

in order to protect the 'beautiful-luscious'
within you from slipping into despair

--Until one day,
what you have been avoiding
   (longing for)  most,
shows his *******.. unorthodoxically-untethered,
brazen attitude (and perfectly clear eyesight)

   and suddenly you become seen.

There is absolutely no way
with some one like me  that you..
(within all of your Wondreous,
   Deep-feeling Glory)
would not eventually be seen.

I urge you to take  every single
part of it all,  in..
(the very thing you were "built" to do)..
Even if in doing so, you were almost
continually brought right up  to
(and so very often, "over")  the edge

Gifted fingers, helping the body  find
its own form of release,
when the pressings of Spirit,  mixed
with the deeply-Penetrating View  that
Love carries within every single  part
  of itself..
..Those gracious fingers are not 'up to no good'..
   but instead..
(by the very Deeply-Understanding
nature of Love itself)..  
  both they..  and the  whole
  beautiful process of Release..

      is deemed, Holy.

The physical human body  becomes
pushed way too far  within its limited
ability to contain,  the Wholly
uncontainable Ectsatic Pulsings
  of Love's true Agenda.

Perfection knows that and says
      (so do I)..

     "How could she not?"

Be gracious to yourself, girl.
You have wanted to live
within the Beautiful Realms,  
worthy of your calling.

   Welcome Home ❤

Compartmentalized;

..An elevated view  of you
shows booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,

.. after booth, after booth
   Each one  partitioned  with

an impenetrable  curtain
hanging off of  a bone-frame
stainless steel  pipe structure,
Built high enough  for the
different parts  of you
to sense, but not   feel..

what part of you
is in the other booth.

   Problem is,

You want and expect
me to orbit around it all
as if each isolated part
   is,  in itself..
actually the whole you..
when I know it is  only
a  tremendously-lonely
    part of the whole.
And you take love  to be
some form of blindness
  on my part

--to the elephant in the room,
And I tell you I love you..
And I tell you,  

               "No.. I won't do it"

--And your shame  kicks in
causing you to  feel
     I'm too harsh..

        or being judgemental.

Yet all along, you are knowing--
That just a few moments  with me..
and the walls come tumbling down.
   .          .          .          .         .          .          

When the partitions  drop
(that is your terror)
(that is your horror)
You will not annihilate
into a million fragments  
   of nothingness

The you(s)..  of you
will meet one another
for the very first time
since you were first  dismembered
(fragmented, so very long ago.)
You will not  disintegrate, love..

You will  Re- integrate.

Love does that.  It does.
But you already know that.
Yet still you hide (.. from me.)


You are addicted  to the 'comfort'
the partitions's isolation brings.
Your relationship is not with
the sum of the parts  as a whole..
but with the internal  "construct"  within you--
  the chasm..  the gap..  

--the empty space between those parts;
as it uninstalls one part of the intricate you
and re-installs the next

And you have no idea   how to
   orchestrate
the many different parts  of you
   like a conductor would do
   with his orchestra..   therefore,

You can only be in relationship
with one part of yourself at a time--
..Each partitioned  'self'
has an e-mail address
Each one  has
a separate account  of its own..
Each one,  within itself..   convinced
that it carries within itself
its own, separate genetic imprint

Each one,  you can  milk  
within its incompleteness
     as if it in itself,   is complete--
    .. Flaunting it, flaunting it;  
    as though it is the complete you
  while all other necessary  parts of the whole
  remain dangerously dormant..
   --being Unholy-ghosted  by

    whatever currently-visible part of you
    now  has control of the ship.


--And throughout the years
I am expected to weather the storm
and gather  pieces,  from pieces..
and then magically (oh.. I can..)
piece them all together as I speak to you
without you having to even  feel
the tension (absurdity)  of the
mis-placed  accountability
   (and responsibility)
    to enter into love
    as a Whole (the sum of many parts)

And so here I am..  orbiting    
    orbiting  orbiting--
around your ever-changing  mood swings;
        the   "Paul-is-good,"  one day
        and  "Paul-is-bad,"  the next,
       (those ever-changing perspectives,
       gaslighting.. gaslighting.. gaslighting)
   --in order that you might  remain   'the same'
   based on whatever current-visible  part of you
   is currently at the helm..

       The current pilot of the ship
       wholly unaware of the leadership styles,
       opinions and views of that  of the last.  
Harsh sounding.. I know..
(but you know..)

And so, here's the rub--

You are feeling your days
to be numbered..
You have been around me
too long, love.
(that is your fault)   You knew.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4159831/tourniquet-smiles-yeah-that/

I wrote that  such a long time ago


We are getting closer to Home, love.
I wrote this strange little ditty
before I wrote that other one..

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3383529/fragments/

What you have feared  most
has now given way
to the sound of inevitability

   (You should have ran
             ..but you didn't.)


..The sound of inevitability
 isn't really a sound at all..

..It is the  sound of you  still
  standing there.❤

"Dig your claw-hands  into me"  said she..
'It is all so unbearable, you know"
Her chest,  ripped open..
such an ancient wound,  are those..

"Are those,  so slow to heal--
These ones   you've done to me..

And I.. I swear..  Dark..   looks like light
And Light,  so very dark

Strangely,  near you
         I feel the Spark

..From you, the Monster..
You know..  the one,  
         under my bed,

         Just waiting..
             waiting..

        waiting.

For me to slip..   to fall..
So you can what?  
        Crush my skull?

Grind me into  grist;
     Tho Unleavened..

     I will rise with you
     I now, know--

.. The dreaded  end
Is the beginning


    ..of all Beginnings."

i usually try
to start work
at 09:00
but today
a streak of sun
across the middle
of the floor
was so appealing
i had to lie
stretched out
and splayed
in that pool
of warmth
within seconds
of being down
the dog nosed
at my ear
and slumped
at my side
his chin resting
on my arm
perhaps
seeking closeness
the comfort of
my presence
or maybe
simply protesting
a hint that he wished
to stretch out
where i was lay
as clouds crept
across the sky
to steal our sunlight
he shifted his weight
let out a deep-lunged sigh
but stayed at my side

Sure..

Stand there...      wait
Don't stand there...    breathe.
No..        
Wait..
don't breathe...    just feel

Nah.   Yeah..
Ya-sure...  breathe&feel

Or wait...   no..
Just-remain-silent-and-say-nothing..


Ah,  there it is...    Yasss.    Good girl.

Blue nothing. She considered miles
out the high window in the stairwell.
First, simple paper distances her finger

could trace, point A to point B.
Then the more difficult measurement,
that of closeness, like bonded atoms.

And then, hypothetical expanses
like those of the heart's vessels -
their length could circle the globe twice.

A plane seemed to crawl across the glass,
leaving a necklace vapor trail. She believed
in possibilities, that every atom that could exist,

already did, but still, she could not wear the red,
strapless dress she no longer owned,
couldn't lift her hair for his fingertips to clasp

pearls at the nape of her neck, his breath
fastening a shiver between her shoulder blades
down the small dip of her back.

She wanted to look into a large aperture
telescope, to view the farthest reaches
of visible space, where no energy had ever been

destroyed, to see into the incalculable vastness
of him in their living room downstairs, him
on the brown sofa reading. She wanted

him to put down his book, to think of her
on the landing, waiting. For him to move
exponentially faster, up the stairs two at a time.

by Jo Brachman

When love beckons to you,  follow him,
though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you   yield to him,
though the sword,  hidden among his pinions
may wound you.

And when he speaks to you  believe in him
though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you  so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth,  so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height  and caresses
your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
so shall he descend to your roots
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn  he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you  until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge,
become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear, you would seek only love's peace
and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
into the seasonless world--
Where you shall laugh..  but not all of your laughter,
And weep..  but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught, but from itself.
Love possesses not,  nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,
"God is in my heart,"
but rather,
"I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires,
let these be your desires--

To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise upon your lips.

~Kahlil Gibran