Poetry and other *~WORDS~* are ~BENEATH~ the Photos. Please be so kind as to Scroll DOWN beneath Photos to READ...ThankYou, CherylFaith Site is currently under construction. Please return soon to see our new and improved look. Thank you! :) PeaceLove&Smiles, CFT
O! To acrobat my Wings, to glow Gigantic Flam-ed Eyes; Fae-Siren, Fire-Tail-Costumed Libertine, NightSky be my Stage...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My Heart sank with a foreign Sun twenty billion years young; my Soul lifted later - she rose in Rainbows' iridescence- all colours bled into each other a blinding brilliance brought to Life
only Beings blind to colour know the pain of in-between,
(exquisite agony one feels in shivers 'pon these Mountain peaks)
that Shadow-speak within you: may be Comets for my every Breath yet We are One upon this Stage One Love surrounds this swirling scene We are One upon this Stage... Open now the Curtains, Wide...
Hello, dear friends. I hope you are well and enjoying the onset of Autumn,
or the Season which surrounds you -
may it be thy favourite.
Where are you?
I would love to know where is your home,
your area of our shared Universe.
I have recently returned from The Moon. I am in the process of unpacking my gear, my Lunar Poetry. As I speak to thee, I consume MoonStroked liqueur. I look forward to sharing excerpts of this exotic nectar with you soon.
PeaceLoveSmiles to you all. Many thanks for Being here.
Absinthe: Nectar for Goddesses, Gods, GoldBirds, Goths; DreamBread for Players ~All~ - sated may we be, beneath Moon's bright eyed Night we are but One, all of plane same, upon this Grand Old Stage, Divine
The spinning sphere of Time's recycling cuts Devours my Mind, unsettles me to tears; My loves, my Dreams, my fears' merc'less assaults Unravel me then spin me Home to whole -
I remember your eyes' intensity in Rain's rhapsodies, the Wisdom Lights you cannot help but utilize to study Truths; I remember your voice's gentle Music as you Read, soft shy grace coloring potent Poetic ports; I can only imagine how you must, at times, suffer the ache Of thoughts too deep to think, to feel at once, Time's cruel face as you reign in Jewels, who settle, softly, with seeming ease, into sentenced corrals, into Life! - into Immortality's embrace.
I remember you in Rain, in Snow, but truly, an Autumn Sky's spectacular adieu, one enigmatic, magical October Eve;
and I pray you suffer never - I thank you for your Soul's/Mind's shares with all my Heart...
My gratitude Immortalizes you Immortalizes who I am, if ever I've been anyone; if all this stage is but a World, no greater Gold has blessed my Mind, than a lithe dark Light, winding his way to a train. A Poet's Heart felt the embrace of Universal Minds, The Greats.
Should my eyes close now to open in another Time, I shall remember your Mind's fingers, freeing my Words
**for an Immortal; for thee, AP
note: Myriad men may share thy glorious name, but a singular "Arthur" blazes thru Time's Soul with Words magique to move bold Readers' Minds from Brooklyn's Heart to farceurs' entomb-ed Gold
purple bubbled "p" pops; tis letter number three in "sip your drink, mate..."... everything slants shrilly once again; I feel me slipping...falling--- pity, as Purple stands Royal, like that Creature in your glass... purple letters create too much noise... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Movements II : consoling Violets
Limbo'ed Raven-Folk reside in card-hotels;
those who do not fear.
those who do not dare to fear-
they visit -
we kiss them through a tiny violet window in the grove -
candles flicker, blaze the orchard;
our card-hotel sign screams, "Open"
Violet screams when forced to see
these purple letters follow me
I must console my desperate friend -
(I drop her into your glass again)
now breathe....breathe -
We will pretend our bravest selves
to visit where the Ravens flow in
beside those card-hotels who stole her name -
I think she'll dream upon reprieve -
Will she dream a new return?
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Intermezzo (in a bug-pub)
a "bug-pub is a solution for those who cannot stop the Meta morphoses
"you've poured more than a solo query to the (very ugly) bug," declared two tense-worthy causers who live in black shoes; heir stiletto heels in a bunch: (our profound "pretty ponds") afloat with plasticine piles, protruding beetles climbing, creeping through thick-fuurred sticky Night. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the kafka bug
he be a bloated - bellied guy -
He rolls round toward her purple door
"I love the sound of the Word,
"Violet," he oozes,
his wirey hair askew
askew in a silent whirring wind
we cannot see
all our worlds askew at once
all our Words cyclone, torment Violets,
pass, whistling, through each other's rounds -
May we catch them, ball their electric dream hair into sense,
further excerpts discovered from the tentatively titled "Dreams Burlesque"
now men sleep -
the wakeful ones are Felines who comb thru Sky-stained Night;
tis like to Morne, this painted azure MidNight -
paper cut-outs pasted high to look as if a nubile Cloud - dance plays
to enter slumbered Minds
(nothing is right; nothing is right)
teeth, claws, glowing eyes, flash Fire
guttural street-wise throat-strained-purrs,
their sane - in- somewhere - faces leer;
they hear the tenement dwellers' schemes
(if they could know scarred Felines' schemes,
we'd all be one
alone be gone)
all Minds be gone-
these Cats in Dreams
these Cats in Dreams
the gutters bounce blue placid Sky -
no Moon at MidNight
We ride to 1969 !
otro movimiento (for Mr. "People")
Upstairs live the immigrants
Sicilians, here since 'sixty-eight
the old man thinks he's Home again
his wife: she grieves alone at Night
she lost a son.
Where's he run to now, sweet boy?
The husband's off to see his child,
to eat that smile he needs to Live;
Disease alights his greedy eyes,
bright with wine of vineyards gone -
where's he run to now?
Mind you, Dawn breaks soon.
(mind you: Dawn breaks.)
"Why is Morning broken, Daddy?"*
"What you talkin about, eh? Mornings no broke...Look at that Sky, my son. She isa perfect, no?"
He muses while upon the back of the chartreuse bug,
(flash! upon an old Carousel);
he rides the insect's steely back;
He muses, rides to rich Sicilian fields;
his shuttered eyes, they know Where -
"Please, Midnight, stay; I'd see my boy,
My woman, too, yesterday so pretty..."
The sleepers toss; (tenement heat scars the approaching mourn even further);
their Sleep disturbed by phantom cries
their floating angels left behind in their sweet Sicilian embrace;
boats have no real mercy, only Myth, once Her Sea closes into complete surround;
Boardwalk's exhausted Carousel emanates rot, but keeps her rhyme:
no other way to go but 'round
for faded Carousels -
once you've mounted, all is gone,
you've left behind your violet vines...
(Wine spills into these dirty new gutters;
"these people know not how to Live...")
"he couldn't do it either, my boy;
his very Sleep stole away his Breath."
The Carousel enchanted his boy;
had he remained in Sicily... ?
Bright, garish caricatures move ghosts move garish bright caricatures
("Next! Passport!" his Momentary Mind photo)
His Lady weeps alone again.
she lost a son.
Where's he run to now, sweet boy?
Morning means the Felines and the chartreuse insect must make haste -
horses round the Carousel,
...stray thoughts for which we have no Time;
turquoise horse rounds down once more,
his eye a nightmare villain's game, his whinnies: prayers:
"... the chartreuse bug will never again climb aboard
** thank you, Sir D.F.Draper, for your encouragement, for the breath you blow through my aching Mind. no idea why these words flow now, to thee- I worship Words. Thou art a Muse. I treasure the "copy-editor" endorsement on LinkdIn. :) <3 CF
bring in cloudy arms, round shoulders clothed in blue-grey smoke
I pray to thee: my Sisters be; hold me to your Hearts; I love too deeply; my Heart breaks over these Storms She sends with whispered Hopes;
please tell me how you want me to caress you your pain cuts me til Her blood anoints Her Mountain caves Your slave am I; I be they Slave
o honour me, sweet mournful Soul o honour me, these Lives, untold til Moments come thy Mind aglow upon thy Heart I taste thy seeping Life you share you honour me you honour me impossibly I sleep I toss with star-drenched Seas; Her tears doth fall ** "...little ripples in Time, maybe breakthru of subharmonic that may have been or may be in the future; little disruptions hard to quantify, maybe you see these, but I don't, but maybe..." (quote of The Large Kitten, My Valentine...my SoulMate...Happy Valentine's Day, my BlueSonicBoy)
(weirdness received on a NightCake drenched in frigid, perilous Beauty. May all be safe; be warm; know you are loved for you, wherever you may be! Happy Day of extra-Love, although every Day ought to be... Happy Valentine's Day to my SoulMate, who reminds me to "...let the weirdness in..." (Kate Bush)
I have been blessed to realize: Certain people in the Circle hold candles, old wispy angels, inside their bright bejeweled eyes. When perchance these people's auras enter mine, I see no other aspect first, before their eyes seek mine or mine seek theirs; My fears are tempered by their tiny armoured iron suits,
whilst they waver, ever-so-slightly,
comforting my demons in moon-stroked allies
thank you, Alison; thank you, Karen : for your links in my Circles for your Hearts for your friendship