alone covered in my shade

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I stare at the paper until I see your face. I listen to sounds until words are formed. Softly falling, a bird lays, dying in the wind. My mind is white, I ride a cloud. Covered in lyrics and feathers. My new body is under the ground. I dream of you, on the ground I dream of what comes from above. Pictures, fragments, dying laughter. Pick me like a flower from this bed. Buried, dirty dream. Will you find me here, in this picture. Your face I sketch, your words I write. Your wings I float on. White cloud, I went too deep. Paper thin, blown. Paper, seed stained by me. Ghost over the empty white, I remember those words that you said while I floated away…

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A pencil, all I need is a pencil.

Come back, create me. Nothing’s going to hurt you baby. Make me real. Did I do a bad thing, making you perfect. A heart shaped mouth, a black tongue filled with hunger. Flawless and delicately poisoned. A body so thin it was transparent. Eyes so distant they could never leave. Behind, you left me behind. There was a dream man under the page, and a dream tree with roots reaching into the sky. Endless food for hopeless thought. There were faces that seemed shaped from clay. There was a girl with a beautiful seamless smile. I wrote it all down, I sketched it for you. I said maybe you’re going to be the one who saves me. I was humming through the leaves as they fell, I feel you I really do.

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Lay the child upon my bed.

Don’t go. Another morning is summoned and I’ve been given a new name. Word after word licked from the page. Divine line, sexually explicit prayer that only leads to more detail. Mystical is a word I mustn’t leave out of our story. Since I have forgotten most of my dream, only fragments remain. Undisclosed locations and unresolved emotional wounds. Chaos in a body of sparrows.

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I suppose nobody understands the long and winding road. The dwelling place of the haunted, how to get there and how will you know when you are. There, in my arms. Lost in my body of erotic imagination, my mind of spiritual conquest. My words. My picture. My angle on the naked lens. How will you hear me whisper your name in the silk of my motherly touch. Touch nothing, I pretend and seduce. Want nothing, I give my heart to you. In the darkness where the earth is drawn. In the twilight where the words take form. I give the ghost, unlived, a name to burn by.

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Go by, look into my window as I pluck the dead from my body of light. Unveil the mysterious lands of my own persecution. I was killed here. I made you love me here. I suffered the middle way here. I tore off my head and smeared it all over the floor here, for you now. It’s my portal for our departure. I lay in the sway of these waves and do not know why. Why love carries on in the crazy blood tide of memory. Or why I need to write it all down. Show you, listen. I did this to myself. We are one, deep throated goddess.

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At the foot of the cross and roots I found you alone…alone covered in my shade. Sharada Devi

23 thoughts on “alone covered in my shade”

  1. Huht-Kah!

    Dark math, uncensored dream theory taking us nowhere by nobody. Nobody knows it all. Theorizing chaos…notarizing the unpredictable. If this happens…if my breath touches thee in a certain way, what will become of the future? Rising in uncertainly we scramble to find answers…in the marriage of heaven and hell. Drag your wagon and plow over the bones of the dead…..

    Huht-kah!

    Focused on Nobody until I get Nothing. I am going Nowhere with Nobody. The only way is No Way.

    1. “A man of great virtue is one who follows the nature way of Tao. This Tao is vague and intangible. Yet, in the vague and void, there is image, there is substance. Within the profound intangible, there is essence;
      This essence is genuine.
      In It lies the great faith.
      Since the beginning of the world, Tao has been in existence. Only through It that one can understand the origin of all beings. How do I know that this is the true essence?
      It is through this natural Way.”

      http://www.with.org/tao_te_ching_en.pdf

  2. I am alone
    not understood
    lambasted for my being
    “why can’t you just be normal ?” she shrieked.
    from so called loving lips
    twice in 5 days
    like Peter and the crowing of the cock…
    denial
    loved one’s love
    is an ooze of blood
    trickle
    from a deep wound gash
    rehashed at will
    it will spill
    when you least expect it
    drain you, until
    too white cheeked,
    leeched
    inhumane, illusory contractual breech
    sets you straight.
    This is all a cosmic joke, with no punch line
    “I don’t belong here”
    inauthentic undulation
    the undue slake of the fork tongued snake
    raking you over and under the coals
    once again.
    When will it end ?

    1. I don’t think it does…
      I have reason to believe
      Sunshine is Shane.
      I was struck by lightening,
      one day as he sat on my bed.
      I was like “OMG Shane.”
      I can’t prove it- but I have evidence…
      I keep denying it’s true, because it’s so deeply creepy- but I’m pretty certain it’s true- it can’t end, it’s scary…🙀

      1. Yikes! That is deeply creepy…
        This is, like you said to me recently, a rollercoaster – from one day to the next.
        Watch out for the striking lightening and the snakes in the grass.
        Nothing left to do but to glide through the cross-current on invisible wings.
        Or to bring William Blake back into the mix – witness The marriage of heaven and hell.
        ☀️
        I like to think that Shane is Sunshine, gleaming down upon us all.
        I believe it without proof.
        I think of him often, the lack of him here on these cyber pages. Since I did not know him in the world,
        for him to be sunshine, now I can know him daily.

          1. Hahaha!
            whoops…
            Well that is even better!

            so much for precious human birth, to come back as a pet seems to be better lot in life.

            Hey -then Shane got his wish, to be with you.

  3. Come Dance With Me….
    If a tree could move from one place to another, it would not suffer the pain of the saw.
    If the Sun and the Moon stood still like the rocks, they could not offer brilliance.
    How bitter the taste of Water would be, if the river stopped its flow, remaining sea water.
    When the sea water rises to become a cloud, it loses its bitterness and pours the rain of sweetness.
    These are just a few examples, you can figure out the rest.
    Break away from darkness of your “self” and come dance with me…in the kingdom of Light…
    I will be waiting for you there…..

  4. Your existence-
    you help.
    Like slow rain.
    And what’s in it, isn’t chains and closed doors.
    Unless it is coming like god.
    The inescapable binding of ourselves.
    That’s what I need you to know.
    You help, like a chain, me to god, rain to the ground. Can’t slow down.
    Through the closed door, I feel you because I feel my heart.

    1. You are a masterpiece that I can’t see. All over me. Star canopy, arch of light. The amount to enter your sacred halls is too great for a number. If I could be pure water, it would be empty for you, who turn it into light. Your face where my body of water was dry, without you.

  5. ” I have seen the phantom Cowboy ride
    a trail of dust is in my dreams
    With an eagle on his shoulder
    through the clouds he glides
    and sprints across the spacial streams
    But the ledge is steep
    and the light is dark
    still I see Hm leap
    and He keeps on heading for a star
    that’s not very far
    He’s traveling on a silver filigree
    I’ve been waiting at the eastern gate
    I wave my hand to flag Him down
    I always hope to catch Him but He just won’t wait
    He’s not allowed to reach the ground
    But His touch can heal
    when the light is dark
    Doesn’t need a shield
    ‘Cuz He’s heading for a star that not very far
    He likes it all just because it’s real
    Though I’m sitting in the grit and grime
    the spark of hope is in me strong
    I’m going to try to get there in the nick of time
    and maybe I can ride along “

    1. Judee Sill…interesting.
      Died way too young! 35.
      Liked this and some of her other songs…
      Thanks for sharing her sweetness here, Rhadhe, I have not thought of or heard her since the early 70s!

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