Bourbon Kisses (Bloody Fire)

Bourbon Kisses, Bloody Fire (a prayer)

She floated in with Her Fury, clothed in blue-grey Clouds;

I'm swathed in calm;

She took my arm, for a dance
'midst highest azure Air - 
I felt no fear, no fear, no fear,
only honour: pure enchantment

until

upon a Night soft and still

Thy form elongates!

Frightened shadows scurry Home;

Home has flown, 

blurred with Her tears.

Home has flown

Home

hath

flown

********************************

 
my Sisters, my Brothers, my lover!  
My Lover!
move away, run away!

Shelter us, please!

Shelter these sacred Lives 

We beg thee

dissipate, disappear!
all has flown -
where have you sent the angel - fish,
please tell us they've a new-born Home -
Where is Home?   
Where is Home?

Forgive us, please?

 

 spray your Joy anew 

whilst we repair our thoughtless ways

Lost in hazy fields,

I've seen your mournful smile;

prithee let us try 

may we learn the means by which

Thou shalt forgive our wasteful ways;

 thine weeping Trees wrench my Soul -

Oh! to feel thy gentle breeze anew,

beneath your gaze, 

your Heart

 

new Stars, please live

in MoonLit fields 

where your corn, your wheat 

weave once more,

  beneath your clear soft Skies

 

we need thy kindness in this Moment 

I believe in you -  

please believe in me, in us

************************************************ 

but this Night
only smoke doth define thee...

  ice crackles 'pon the ailing roof

Her Truths become lost Songs unknown;

your Sisters sang your Songs last Night,

opened fog-full doors; 

you flowed in 

like bourbon kisses

 atop

tall dark flames

You awakened bloody Fire

long - denied, long denied - 

centuries long-denied -

 Burn your buried fire in bourbon.

James told us aeons ago, it seems 

Why were we deaf to his cries ?

Why did we wait in apathetic bliss

until your rushing bourbon screams -

blood flows upon your Creatures 

  "What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her
Stuck her with knives in the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences and dragged her down .... " **

 

LightStorm, SnowStorm, Winter-in-the-eaves torment-
sorrow as the huge Sea throngs
gallons, huge Ship-fulls of rage;
She howls 

She howls !

as strangers
bring in cloudy arms, round shoulders clothed in blue-grey smoke
***************************************************

I pray to thee, my Sisters:  hold Her to your Hearts.

I love too deeply; 

my Heart breaks 

over sloping hills

 facing sickly fates -

these Storms, She sends -

We whisper Hopes and prayers,

drowned cries! hidden within rocking crevices;

Scream !

a Chorus need be heard, 

upon foggy, moody moors,

upon Windy angry flatlands, 

Her blood - drenched coasts, 

whose

guards fall down

 to tumultuous Seas,

a sickened lullaby;

Good - bye, my loves,

Sleep deeply, angels,

be soothed by "Dreams of Sheep"****

      

please tell us how we must caress you -
Your servant am I; 

tell me how to move; 
we need thine Ancient Songs

o honour us, sweet mournful Soul
o honour me, these Lives, 
untold til Moments
come, forgive -
thy Mind aglow
upon thy Heart
I taste thy seeping Life -
tears blur mine eyes -
if you share
you honour me
you honour me
impossibly -

I sleep

I toss with star-drenched Seas;

Her tears doth fall 

******************************** 

**from "When the Music's Over," The Doors, 
featuring the Poetry and its deliverance
of James Douglas Morrison 

**** "And Dream of Sheep" Kate Bush 

ANGELICA (Arthur Phillips)

ANGELICA is Arthur Phillips' third masterful Novel.
*~*

Director, Mitchell Lichtenstein, has interpreted Arthur Phillips' Novel into a Film, which
opens NOVEMBER 17, 2017 !
Congratulations, Arthur !! *~*
************************************************************************************
      Do read Sir Phillips' Book ~~before~~ you see Mr. Lichtenstein's Film.
Arthur's Novel transports you to another genre - defiant,
literary smörgåsbord of a world.

(Each of Mr. Phillips' Books is a genre of his own Creation; every novel is a genre distinct to the other (thus far) four amazing novels.
ANGELICA is written in our 21st century's *~*Arthurian Genre*~* )

     Mr. Philllips' ANGELICA is a chilling concerto of a story (or several in one ?) set in Victorian England. Readers, the world over, including a few of my other Literary Loves,
(Stephen King is one) have fallen into the subtly horrifying world which *only* Arthur Phillips can create. You, the Reader, will find yourself on a haunting, psychologically chilling trip. Arthur's Writing is an ethereally
magical, menacing tour of the psyche Human and its capabilities, desires; what needling, mind-cycling trips our own sub-consciences play upon our unsuspecting lives.

      ANGELICA has been critically acclaimed, praised by the likes of Stephen King, Kirkus Reviews (a Starred Review) and Elizabeth Hand, of The Washington Post (Best Fiction of 2007 List), to name a tiny few.


    
      Kafka, Nabakov, Shakespeare, and countless other Immortal Word-Magicians, applaud Mr Phillips from beyond; they hold for him a golden seat (which he should not take before he enjoys the fruits of his Immortal Literary Creations for another hundred-plus years, at least!)
Please never stop writing, Mr. Phillips. You are Gifted, and you Gift us.
ANGELICA, by Athur Phillips

 Mitchell Lichtenstein's Film Adaptation of Athur Phillips' Novel, ANGELICA 

AirUndefined

Upon witnessing a Song Sung for Bowie

Beautiful.
If I let rest my burgundy velvet eye curtains
all I hear is Bowie Love, respect,
Art
as felt by millions upon billions of Beings, inhabitants of everywhere.

I wonder where he's off to,
candle - lit, rocket - fired,
starlette's beloved Jewel
a Human she permitted us to see
Where do our Souls live before or after,
or Simultaneously?

If incinerated, where might our (physical) temporary, endlessly recycling molecules go? Do they storm up into a cyclonic dance, then seamlessly stitch themselves together over a new Soul,
a sacred silent sewing ceremony,
performed in a silver palace,
secret, discreet
as undefined Air?

with love & special thanks to
my friend, Hawk Alfredson

Copyright CherylFaith Taylor 2017

space .... ?

Words and Words and Dreams I sing for thee, love
my Words float, my face awash in mellifluous MoonDreams
where more than once, a nearby Star has caught my eye:
He glamoured me!
but
deep Space's tapestries feel surprisingly warm
Come .... Take my hand
Follow me: I promise thee a Show like no other

Young David gleamed; his Eyes glimmered;
(He glamoured!)
The Galaxy's grand and thunderous reply lit Universal Darkness -
Lesser Stars flickered

His Soul shone out through his extraordinary eyes;
He shot me a smile, straight into my own eyes !

His smile so enchanted me,
I felt my own smile
could never leave my face;
however,
as your relationShip with
Your LifeTime
is more of Same to mine
than not -

these past several months have unsettled me -
I know they may have done the same for you.
If Life is a relationShip, a' movin' we go
We never end, we never truly die.

Thank you, Mr. Davey, Sir -
I curtsy deeply before thee;
as tulle, lace, taffeta crunch
Crush.
I crumble

With most gentle humble living eyes,
he says our cry's heard everywhere
each separate Home holds prayers for Peace
though mostly, I may pray to Trees

My attempt's for naught -
I weep and weep
as his rapture caresses me
His smile has yet to leave my face
I have no fear -
I hold no fear.

David walked here in earlier days,
or so they say,
     (Who was he, really?)

  He glides toward​ fly up
Silence becomes quieter;
I watch him swim smoothly toward a different place - I realize it's hush - hush
I make myself move; I weep,

You hold my hand.
Thank you, my friend.

His gifted smile has never left
but
Thou art here and now, dear friend,
and I love thee, brother.
I love thee, sister.
*************************
I love thee, mi amor, for Rivers of Evers
My True Adventure Began with Thee

Copyright CherylFaith, one cold dia de marzo, 2016

Hidden Verdance

a PreLude

ooh! How truly jeweled She be!
Our Forests' magic speaks through thee;
I breathe in every gem She's shown thee,
every glimpse you've shared with me
Dear Soul of Time so long ago,
or might it be the 'morrow? Always
wandering, I wonder
lost in Dreams inside these Forests;
Love; thy beacon Lights my way

dearest Brave, you save Creation,
kissed by our Great Mother's
wide olde eyes,
whilst high upon thy Ebony stallion
on you lead; my fears fall away

these Stories, sweet, of other Times
breathe new Life 'pon a forest's floor,
where Dreams caress each other,
turn doomed lovers into newborne trees?
meandering spirits plights are here aLight,

All ways,

a Light ....

Dear Dream, prithee stay with me

**************************************

Hello,  dearest angel found
in misty Midnight Forest plays, 
where faeries form floral garlands,
suspend them up, above this Earth,
beneath the wandering  Clouds,

wee girls! see them, seeking Sir:
tiny fingers, firm in  mothers' hands,
clasped; their elders, ancients,
cycling past each other,
awash, gleeful!
catching dewdrops barely born;
white roses, crimson poppies,
bluebells, moonflowers on parade;

no charade, no Earthly Lives
have lived these ladies, trailing
wispy smoke,
their gossamer nightgowns
shrouding moonlit riders' eyes
from those who'd steal their Dreams away,
each goddess, ancient, barely babe,
chosen for this Vigil, sacred,
to celebrate our secrets Borne,
enchanted trav'lers
beckoned in to breathe free - form
to mystify
each other's eyes,
tho they may be from other Times,
conjoined in Eternity's mirrored  Minds  ....
              ******************

Look! Goddess of those Northern Lights!
She leads them 'round!
Gaze deeply, Sir;  She sees thee now
and then and here, as over there,
                      ********
two Souls to hear old Stories spake
by Skadi; her spectacular Show,
her blessings:
throwing Poets glowing Lights