Manipulator

He slithers in the blue laboratory glow.
His silver words are silent needles.
No more seduction with your whiplash tongue
Master manipulator,
I'm your master now

Lash out with your claws
(No one can hear you)
Grip me with your screams
(Will they still fear you)
Fingers like white worms
And wrath electric in your eyes
My prince of lies,
your lies will bring you
to your knees.

He whispers smoke into the water
He paints the pictures that you love
No more twisting and deceiving
Trapped by your own doings
You're weaving your own pain
with every word

Tell me, are you still the hunter?
(and where is your kill)
Liar, magic bound with wire
(have you had your fill)
Now you're stifled, struggling
with your tongue behind your teeth
My lord of lies,
You have no lies to hide beneath

My prince of mischief,
You're a thief without a steal
And in the end, it is you
who'll always kneel.


~

3 Poems, 1 Day

Because I occasionally suffer from writer's diarrhoea.

~

THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO RULE

The frost was meant to rain upon your face.

With all the poetry of human creation

transmuted into the curve of your

cheekbone as you stand watching the

world fall, each jagged piece reflected

in your still blue gaze.

The stars were made to shine upon your brow.

Each shimmering mote of the nebulae

races at the speed of light across your

lips, which shiver for a second before

you fall back into shadow.

The heaven that could be yours is here.

You could have held the sun in your slender hands,

did ambition not pull you down into the

chasm that ate away your skin and turned you

into the thing you used to fear.

The storm has come to chase you down.

The lightning will follow in your fleet

footsteps and echo your desperate dreams as

you hunt them across the universe, trying

to rebuild your playground.

The skies have closed upon your show.

The rain would kiss away the wounds in your

eyes if you would but let them run over your

brittle shell. But it’s too late for redemption.

This bridge was broken long ago.

~

~

SPY, GLASS, MONSTER: A Love Song

I want to dissect you

Crawl beneath your skin,

Rest my head against the

ice of your collarbone

and breathe you.

I want to fill you up.

Sink my words like knives

into your brittle shield

and leave you with my dreams,

my nightmares.

I want to dance with you.

Break the glass of your

deception and make you move with me

and tear you down,

slowly, intimately.

I want to use you;

know what it’s like to

wear the skin that you wear,

to taint the same air

To tangle your silver tongue in mine

and suck you dry.

I want to become you.

Bring out the monsters;

it’s time to waltz

Bring down the smokescreens,

we’re up in the air

And there’s nowhere for us to go.

Bring in your fears.

I want to See you.

~

~

THE EXPLORER

If neither time not distance stood between us, I would

make a playland of your body and spend hours upon hours

tracing the fine lines of your smile, licking the tiny hairs

of your lashes as they flutter when you speak, and

catch your words like rare Asgardian birds before they

slip past the mortal coil, so that each gem spilling forth

from your mouth is immortalized within me.

If I could shrink myself to a hair’s breadth, I

would spend each precious second traversing

the mountain of your cheekbone, pausing only

to simmer myself in the warm scent of your skin

and envision my ultimate goal: the divine electric

pools of your eyes that nestle in a valley of

beautiful bones sheathed in faint silken crinkles.

If I were an animal, I would love you unreservedly

behind the mask of bestiality, lapping you up and

enveloping you against the howling cold of the wild

as every hair on my skin quivered with joy at the

intimate curve of your arm, your face, nestled against

my predatory sinew, and breathing the freedom of

giving myself to you as I never could before.

If I were an explorer of strange worlds and new

galaxies, I would burn a trail across the universe of

your torso, your hips, your velvet tongue; each piece

of you a testament to God’s divine work, that such

beauty occupies our reality, and it is I—the fortunate one

—who has tasted the truth of your splendour, and now

shine a light upon it for all to see.

~

Immortals

.

Immortals

a mini opera

~

A man walks into a world that is not his own. The violent daylight is reflected in his hungry eyes.

A woman slips into the backstage room. She pulls on her glitter-dusted nylons and prepares to open the show.

VOICEOVER:

What dreams may come

In the midst of prayer

To save you, lift you,

Strip you bare

What dreams are brightest

can be deadliest

Unless you handle

them with care

Brushing the frost of the stars from his leather jacket, the man slides out a knife and quietly kills a guard.

Fans and friends accost her, but the woman pushes them away, adjusting her hair and striding toward the stage.

VOICEOVER:

Dreams can feed you

Day by day

Dreams can kill you

As you sway

When sweet obsession

Sweeps you away

On your feet, now

It’s time to play.

The man looks to the skies and calls on alien gods.

The woman strips off her skin and reveals her sacred glow to her distant lovers.

VOICEOVER:

And if you walk in the shadows

Of kings and queens

You must wear their memories

On your mortal skin

The man walks into a palace of cultured silence and unforgiving marble.

The woman bathes in swirling artificial rhythm and returns the love of her devotees.

VOICEOVER:

If you would have them remember

Your deeds and your glory,

Then call to the gods

And tell them your story

The man tightens his grip on his walking stick and steps up to claim his place as king.

The woman slides into her first dance.

The man sinks into his second kill.

VOICEOVER:

Beware your dreams don’t overrun

Your mortal flesh and bones.

Beware your dreams don’t grow too large

For when you stand alone,

The woman twists and gyrates, hypnotizing the audience with her every move.

The man smashes a tall plaster god with his walking stick.

VOICEOVER:

You will rise and tower

Above them all;

You will be mighty

And they be small.

You will guard your dreams

From being swept astray;

But nothing is forever

Anyway.

The show is over, and the woman dances on alone in a pool of neon light.

The man towers over the third body, bathed in a pool of blood and plaster dust.

VOICEOVER:

Beware the calling of destiny

The great ambition of treachery

Beware the sweeper, the deceiver, the liar

- The lure of immortality.

The dance has ended. The woman walks to a gilded armchair and sinks into the velvet.

The kill is over. The man sits on a marble throne and covers his face with bloody hands.

VOICEOVER:

The sweeper knows when your time has come,

When your days are numbered down to one

Even the greatest are reduced to bones.

And when they stand, they stand alone.

~End~

Paper Lover

.

Paper Lover

A mini opera

~

1.

Dusk descends on the desert. As the skies dim, the Leather Lizard strokes his finely made coat, vivid and new from the shedding. Its scaly beauty is strange and rough; full of tiny polished pebbles and an alien gleam.

LIZARD:

If she knew my limbs were sheathed in leather,

My kisses like sandpaper

If she knew how I tilt my head

at the sun and let it burn me,

Lie in the scorching grit and feel it turn me

Into scales and tail and terror, would she

Still love me?

If she could hear my breath at night

Rattling and whispering like bone-dust

Full of cold reptilian lust

Would she lie next to me?

I would rather hide my skin in paper

Wrap my words in ink

Whisper loving things and let them sink

Into her dreams of me.

Lizard love is what I give;

A love on which you cannot live.

MOLE:

Lizard love is a mystery

Your words lead to my destiny.

Across the land, the Restless Mole responds to the Leather Lizard’s letters. She was born in darkness and, like most moles, is half-blind. But her vision – and her desire – goes beyond what she can physically see.

MOLE:

My eyes may be full of clouds

And my nights and days the same

Yet I would be touched by claws beyond the damp,

Beyond the earth. A tongue untamed

Speaks to me through paper and promises

Sand-speckled words formed into kisses.

You feed me constantly

But not enough.

I must see you, eventually;

I love you. Believe me.

So let me cross the land, and water too

Let your paper trail lead me to you.

_____________________________

2.

Morning. The Leather Lizard watches the dust motes rise early and begin their languid dance against the purple skies. They mock him with traces of her scent.

LIZARD:

The blind are brave

And the brave are blind

And one way or another,

We all shall find

Those we deserve;

Not those we love.

I am not worthy of your bravery

Not worthy of your grace

Not deserving of the veil

That clouds your childish gaze

So why do you crawl

And swim and grow tall

While my courage grows small?

Why do you seek me

And love me and need me?

Meanwhile the Restless Mole inches her way determinedly toward her final destination. She sniffs the air occasionally and smiles when she hears a whisper, a rattle, that might be him.

LIZARD:

My sandy lips will wound you

MOLE:

Your strange, sweet tongue will woo me

LIZARD:

My sharp tail will repulse you

MOLE:

Your every twitch will charm me

LIZARD:

My cool hard skin will make you

Wish you’d stayed away

MOLE:

Why should I not say

(TOGETHER):
And you won’t be / That I’m in love

So in love / Yes, in love

With me / With you.

_____________________________

3.

High noon in the mountains. It seems ludicrous for a soft-bodied, half-blind mole to be here; but here she is. She clambers onto a ridge where a smattering of tough greens and wildflowers grow, and looks to the unforgiving landscape before her.

MOLE:

Not far now. I hear you on the wind

A susurrus of painted kisses soaking time and again

Into precious paper laced with sand and lined with love.

Your attitude, reptilian;

Your poetry, full of passion.

Soon I’ll be right behind you;

I cannot see, but I will find you.

Somewhere else, on a dead gnarled tree, the Leather Lizard perches and sighs, knowing he cannot stop her.

LIZARD:

Our feelings were never meant to flee

The borders of each letter.

Here beneath the arid wind, I

Cannot be your protector.

MOLE:

They say my courage is misplaced

And my dreams full of poison;

Spineless, crawling in the dark,

They knew I wouldn’t listen.

LIZARD:

You wish to die bravely

And leave me to cry?

MOLE:

You wish to live easy

And blinder than I?

LIZARD:

I wish that both of us live long.

MOLE:

I wish to live while love is strong.

LIZARD:

You’re a child who thinks she can have it all.

MOLE:

You are weak, and scared, and small.

LIZARD:

Ignorant fool of the underground!

MOLE:

Shrinking, scaly, two-tongued clown!

LIZARD:

I wish to the gods we’d never met.

MOLE:

You’re an idiot I should just forget.

As they fling their passionate insults, they don’t realise they’re getting closer – until his head emerges from a scraggly bush, and hers from behind a sandy dune.

Both stare at each other, then away, then back again. The Leather Lizard blinks as if seeing with new eyes; the Restless Mole breathes the air deeply.

MOLE:

We meet at last.

LIZARD:

Well, that was…fast.

MOLE:

How does it feel now, letter writer?

LIZARD:

Better than expected, paper lover.

They stay that way for a long moment, each one out of words and searching for new ones. The sun starts to fall. Silence descends.

_____________________________

4.

Evening. The desert is bare save for two small figures half-buried by the shifting sands, content in the curve of each other’s bodies.

MOLE:

If I died tonight counting every scale on your belly

If I spent my last few seconds recounting every word in every letter

If I breathed my last breath so it would mingle with yours

And felt my last drop of warmth melt into your pores

I would die happy.

LIZARD:

If I lived my last hour with my face in your fur

If the last thing I felt was the curve of your limbs

If I made my last vision the moon in your eyes

And died with my tail in your deep dark crevices,

I would leave blissful.

The edges of the desert dune begin to crinkle. It seems two giant hands are folding and tweaking the scene – which we realize is made of painted paper, like a most intricate origami piece.

~

Transition into the following scene. We see an old man, an artist, at his table making creatures and stories out of paper. Leftover cuttings, stray shreds, paints and various paraphernalia litter the cozy space. In the middle of all this is two familiar origami figures: a handsomely made lizard and a velvety-grey mole.

OLD MAN:

Ah, what a fine thing it is

to tell stories through paper.

To close gaps, cross continents and travel through paper.

To bring paradise closer, to make dreams realer,

To make happy endings for lovers through paper.

Ah, life is a foolish bet;

I’ve chased love only to exchange it for regret

I’ve been through too many bad endings to count.

But as a lover of paper, I can turn them around.

He smiles wistfully and gets up to turn off the lights. The room darkens until we see the remaining lamp shining on the paper lizard and mole. Then the switch is flicked. The scene goes dark.

-