Breathing corpses lie on fallen idols, and relics of an age prophesied.

They ruled in a kingdom of heartache and sin.

Where virtues flee, in a dizzying exodus of trust, born from betrayal.

The few good men, the few good women,

pick at the bones and carrion of the presaged.

Wars and rumors of wars  - cold ones,  - against terror,

or against drugs kept them scared, in check, and fearful.

They ran naked and they knew it.

If they could see it they believed He could too,

No one chased after them.

Frightened, they dug out morals and values from a stack of rules.

Delivered to a mountain.

Written in stone.

Hope lay beyond the good and evil.

In the abyss, where tenets cannot survive and muted silver light

darkens corners, and extinguishes the brightest sun.

Husbands, wives, allies and enemies castigate themselves,

Abandoning gray, to enter dark obscurity.

Reveling in vainglory, yet ashamed of their bodies,

they enjoyed humiliation and the pain of seven sins.

Resigning eons to the lap of the gods.

Devouring their frenzied flesh,

decaying from seed surrendered,

to the promise of peace and fruitless progress,

abscess from excess stained their troubled living.

The perseverance of some, facing a tortuous nothing, found a messiah,

not vanity’s mirror of high aspiration and praise.

Wolves in sheep’s clothing consumed by thought,

led the unfortunate toward false freedom.

To sacrifice all to oblivion,

trading renewal for a thousand deaths.

Some toiled, challenged by memories,

and vast temptations,

by all things filthy and evil, yet delicious.

Beautiful and filling.

Flesh, gold,and pleasures, their only possessions

on the road that must be traveled,

To the land beyond the good and evil.

<><><>

_emotionalorphan_

Pillow Talk

words in bold italics,
tumble from their mouths.
Exclamation points, asterisks,
parentheses, and footnotes.
Hidden messages.Covert meanings.
Clever diversion,
in masked clarifications.
More to the story left unsaid.

Never-mind the
Noise from their mouths.
and lips moving.
Inner voices, no escape.
They are not to be ignored.
There is something to be said for that.
More of the story left unsaid.

Never-mind-

Pillow Talk from Jack Varnell on Vimeo.

I always took comfort in the fact that one day,
one day soon he would be eighteen and able
to make his own choices.
Man enough to handle truths, from my perspective
with or without agreement, but at least free enough
from the grip of a bitter lie filled divorce and the constant
chaos of never knowing a home that was stable… for long.

I always took comfort in the fact that I would be
free enough then from the bitterness, the anger at
his mother who would not allow me to provide that
stability for him and his brother.
She, who — too tainted from sickness , anger and selfishness
kept them away from me after the smoke cleared as a punishment
to me and to poison them with the lies that covered what really happened.

I took comfort in these things.
In the hope we would be reunited when he was of age.

I called him son.

Two weeks ago today at age seventeen he died.
He won’t ever be eighteen. Noone bothered to tell me.
I found out on Facebook.
The final blow, a one car rollover to eternity.

So I say to you… don’t wait to find family or love.
Seize the moment and don’t be afraid like I was.
It is right there within reach.
Unconditional and without a mark.
Grab it.

There is too much loss in this world not to.
If for one fleeting second, you think I am speaking to you,
I am.
Please listen.

For Alec – I love you and I am sorry.

<><><>

Beware The Angry Spinning Suns

Watching the bright spinning suns that indicate

extreme heat and drought nationwide

on the news weather map, he giggles and asks,

“what are those things Daddy Jack?”

Lessons in ecology and meteorology sometimes come so simply.

They emanate from big beautiful brown eyes.

Innocent eyes that have seen too much,

and want answers. Eyes that beg to relax during sleep.

He has my eyes.

I explain Mother Nature is pissed off.

She likes her temperature regulated.

It’s a delicate balance.

She chokes on our smoke and toxins

cycling from ground to air to ground and sea.

She feels she has lost control.

She despises the dinosaur blood fuel

that makes everything go faster, faster

killing the fishes and the seas.

Or that those people vacationing in Hawaii

dont enjoy the beach as much

because of juice boxes, and water bottles

that go twice around the world in line

to end up where surfers, whales and boats used to play.

She is so angry we have

started tearing down the walls

between heaven and earth

that sometimes she lowers them

and sends down angry spinning suns

that alert us from tv to beware.

He laughs and says Daddy Jack,

that is silly, you made that up.

He has my eyes and I want them back.

He smiles and says,”for a juice box

before supper” I can have them.

I know that is silly, and that he made that up.

___emotionalorphan 2006___

Original HERE

As is often the case, I found some inspiration when reading the words of a friend.

Please see the entire pom~The Tashtoo Parlour ~:

@dVersePoets

http://ht.ly/jSvbf

Penned by my friend +Natasha Head

Mercy lacks.

Compassion a novel idea.
We seek things untouchable
And are quickly bored if we do.
<>
Its not the promise of cheese
That keeps the rats on the wheel.
<>
Like us, its perception
Of the unseen chasing,
Towards a quicker end.
<>
Honest needs — dance,
Infront of eyes, laughing.
With our blindness.
We stare dumb right past them.
<>
A dog, when
His Master points,
Looks at the man’s finger,
Not the horizon.
<>
Sun burns with indifference.
Never bronzed enough.
Before the mirrors got cruel.
Before the clock mattered
We couldn’t stay
out of the face of both.
<>
Lover, we are still
Close enough to childhood
Even with eternity winking
Back at us from the looking glass
<>
Alive enough
In the eyes of cemetaries
Headstone shadows long
In the noon sun shining
<>
In the evening,
With its luminence
We may be mistaken for beauty
You? No mistake…
<>
On such nights
In such light
Our collected sorrows
Reflect back in your eyes
<>
And I am still
Swept away, swooning
A drunken child.
As I have always been with you.

<><><>

_emotionalorphan_

Drunk on the confidence that comes
from finally seeing all the hope paying off
I neglected the cardinal rule.
<>
There is always an enemy.
<>
Blissfully living in anticipation
and for the second time in my life
I never considered myself ever
having to be alone again.
<>
I forgot.
There is always an enemy.
<>
I moved in and out of the days.
Taking them as they came.
Gladly, for each led to the next.
<>
I was getting prepared for
Forever Beach,
a Home,
with Sunshine ,
Laughter,
Grandchildren,
and most importantly,
Rest in The Arms of
The One.
<>
Then…The Enemy…
<><><>

_emotionalorphan_

<><><>

<><>

<>

Innocent curiosity rewarded,

I stared hard into the mirror

to put on my best face.

<>

To find the courage

to make a dream come true.

<>

You laughed and were intrigued.

I heard you breathe

a sigh, a release.

<>

You laughed and were intrigued,

and I was enchanted fully…

Again.

<>

By Ocean sparkles

framed by dimples

and starlight hair.

Alive again. Finally.

<>

After eternity without,

I saw you.

your presence was

not a requirement.

Not so now.

<>

And so it began,

the second time

last April.

<>

Had I forgotten

something Id always known,

Was I remembering something

Id just learned ?

Again.

<>

A memory in color ?

Or a black and white dream

like the first time

when I lifted my head

to see through my haze

an angel

shining brightly

through the dark?

<>

You made all the choices

eight months of the year

The rest?

I dreamed or remembered

Forgot or remembered

<>

The angel chose the direction

and oceans no longer sparkled

armor comes crashing

and feathers float earthward

Slow motion -light

because all that is left is heavy.

<>

And me with my

Wings of Desire

dreaming, remembering

forgetting, remembering

That the curse

of humanity is free will

and the price

is eternity transformed.

<>

Far Away, So close.

<>

I thought a black and white

world of certainty,

held much more promise

than a technicolor world

of chaos and confusion.

<><><>

<><>

<>

__emotionalorphan__

Hope can be a deadly thing 

When delivered as a dream, 

And shared with another. 

The One who got away, 

The biggest mistake ever made.

The Gilded Second Chance – Holy Grail.

Other.

Hope can be a deadly thing 

In the hands of the unstable,

Hopeless, or blind.

In a whirlwhind it takes you 

Miles from paralyzed existence, 

Toward heaven,

In the arms of The One you love,

Confident with new found purpose,

Hope drops you, sets you back, 

Far behind where it found you 

Rendered worse for the wear. 

Bleeding.

Left for dead.

Then it gets dangerous. 

Menacing. Fatal.

True Hope, the Deceiver 

Must convince you 

It was a fluke,

Someone else’s fault. 

Simply just bad luck.

Hope Tells you 

“Not the right time”,

Or “never meant to be.”

“It’s For the best.”

“Just the way it is.”

Sometimes, “God’s Will.”  

You have to believe in it’s

Mystical, Magical, Karmic design;

Beyond human control or understanding.

You must believe a lie… any lie 

To keep the nagging truth,  

Slapping you in the face from the inside, 

From becoming Revelation.

And you Hope this is not the way it is.

But this is not how Hope is.

—emotionalorphan—