The Pearl in The Mystic ++ More

The Pearl in The Mystic

Strut it, my queen, emerge from within the shadows.
Why would such beauty be veiled from the eyes and heart that adulate it?
Come, let your sparkling teeth arrayed as pure diamonds in a royal set,
Light up this world, bring merriment to the deepest of the soul,
Your hair flows like the pure waters of Puerto Williams,
Soft, warm and fine than the rare Mulberry Silk, better than the Cashmere.
Saw your lips move and thought of the Caramel milk, deep and enriching.
Alas! I’ve beheld a treasure better than the gold of Havilah.
Come, my Lady! Gobsmack the arena with your un-sullied beauty!

The heart is tenderly-warmer than the sheep wool of a merino,
And there in flows a stream of the tranquil and serene waters,
Waters that lift the spirit of a crushed soul and of a wounded bird
Hearken ye, the birds sing a melody of the Heavens, swimming in the waters,
A sweet medley that awakens the dead dreams and visions of the sage.
I was beheld by hands so tender as of a mother on a new-born.
Thou art so fair my Queen, the maidens envy your gait.
And the young men can only but drool with envy as I beheld your hand.
Whisper again to my ears, these ethereal jingles’ so soothing.

Ah me! Can life be this flattering, -if the sorrowful travails of yesterday
Were a dream, a façade, an illusion of a phantom lost in a dwam?
Let me sleep in thy bosom, on the bloom of your wondrous lilies.
The scent of your blossom is sweeter than the gardenia in the rain,
Let me soak in the laced-breeze of your fragrance, in this Spring rain.
You got me bewildered, Belle of Elysian pristine vineyards,
Your adornment is that of a choice daughter, favorite of the womb,
Garlanded with a thousand pearls and onyx stones from the arcane lodes.

Ah! Wake me not pal! My Queen might just emerge from these dreams.

First the Silhouette, the Angel's Touch

It was the warm touch that awoke me, 
The tender, soft and warm touch that awakens a soul from Sheol, 
The warm embrace wrapped me back to the shores of eternal life, 
Eyes brimming with joy, burst their dikes, flooding beyond the banks. Hadn’t thought such a moment would suffice in the abyss. 
All I treasured had been blown away, my reason to live violently robbed. 
Longing for the horizons of no - return, the present seemed a fallacy. 
As the Angel emerged from the silhouette, 
A breeze of hope awakened my soul flame. 

A cyclone had made the landfall at dawn, 
Had watched it gathering speed from afar, as we settled in Loveville. Ours was a story of love written in Heaven, edited on earth. 
From the first sight, we cherished the union, despising the times asunder. 
As I tilled the land, at times I encountered the serpent of old, 
And thought it harmless, not knowing it was sowing thorns and bristles. A quarrel here, an argument there, and in between the dosh poison, Yes, the poison wrapped neatly and slyly in love, 
Love traded for moolah, yet in hope, I soldiered on. 

Should I tell you my friend of our mystic gardens? 
How I joyfully laid my paychecks on the table of love, withholding nothing? 
How I rode the snow storm to go and visit her mother while ill? 
How I gave the Ancient of Days no rest until He restored her health? Yes, I tell you, I sailed the mighty churn of the deep, despising my life. I died thousand times over for my love, her happiness, and her loved ones, 
Fatigue was my bosom-friend as I toiled, tending to my Love-bloom, Everything was meaningless but her joy. 
The riders of the heavens attest to this.

Dear friend, at landfall the cyclone became the Twisterzilla,
As the ones I had died for, a million times over gathered for the final medley,
Playing the orchestra of Perfidy, I saw the end drew nigh in haste.
First, the cords of rejection were struck, from the womb and loins that bore her.
Then the key of the dagger struck to perfection by him of the same womb.
The saxophonist played artfully - the exit procession, sweeping away my life’s labors.
From afar, I heard the wailings of disbelief and anguish from the womb that bore me.
Tossed into the storm-eye loaded with a million spikes
I sank into the abyss, wrapped in the stillness of death.

The horror movie of life played in high definition,
At dawn, the trailer teased the packed theatre of the great entertainment,
As the sun peaked above the theatre, the suspense-filled script,
Left the audience yearning, begging for more. “No break,” they thundered.
Imagine, even my buddies, them I considered my inner circle, my fortitude,
They thought I was accursed of God, and with folded hands, they recoiled in jest.
Alone was I left, the coldness of the solitude, greedily chewing every hope.
In the emptiness, I tightened the noose on my neck,
And jumped into the quietness of eternity.
I felt my breath ebb away violently then calmly,
Teardrops warming my pale face, the darkness opened its bosom,


I’d never seen such a wicked smile, like of the dark clouds nudging me in.
As I lay in the doorway of Sheol, I felt a touch, then a soft tender nudge.
That prodding of a mother after birth, encouraging the new-born to keep standing.
The noose was loosed, then a stream of fresh, life-rich breath filled my air-banks,
Tears rolling down my cheeks, I felt the sweetest embrace I’d never known or had.
At dawn today, I gazed into the Heavens, beaming with joy,

I still feel the smile, and the tender whisper, “I love you, Keep Standing”.


The Nude Dancer

Ever wandered into the "mind" of a tornado or hurricane or maybe the infamous tsunami?
Well, the following are my stray thoughts into these machines of carnage:
Whats your pick?

The natural vocalist
Hums his tune across the street;
A single leaf not in his hands.
His rugby-shaped body nude
As he was when born.

Last summer
He was dressed of leaves,
And danced around the streets;
The folks watching
His spectacle bewildered.

This morning he passed by,
Just humming the country song-
The secret of night-time lovers-
And though the trees did lean
None clothed him.

Beyond the rubble
He quickly disappeared,
Ashamed of the empty theater;
Few folks afraid, of his vengeful return
While winter beckons.

  Wanderi55 ©2008