Collectible Consciousness

Snippets of God in Satisfaction, Unrest, and the Self

[lucidruby-blog]

Sober

When you wake up to this world You’ll always have one choice And nobody waits for you to grieve- So whiteknuckle hell and heave Sob the past out of your sternum A hollow you, sick of being you Stands- letting mountains be your legs. Letting your cavernous chest be packed with sex, flowers, satin, undressed faces and wild, absurd laughter. French and pancakes. Fleece blankets, the warmth of skin, fizz in your throat, a breeze on your collar, a one way flight, sugar and color, hot water, moonlight walking you home. Let your vacant eyes feel what its like to see somebody beautiful For the very first time.

[lucidruby-blog]

My tangled ropes dismount a plane Once left behind at baggage claim Even polished, still the same rough edges line my feet I take with me every last defeat Buried in Sahara sand Leave them in Fatima’s hand On mountain tops of rocky land But their chatty tattered fangs Are sunken where I sleep And even climbing heaven I am still my own to tame. 

[lucidruby-blog]

Chefchaouen

The mountains hold you in their lap And as you nap, your hills that wrap me up to smoke Have led me home- a broken bird who breaks another Tired, flies to find her mother Cooking breakfast on starlit floors Scolding sons to do their chores and dragging on Virginia slims And yes, the blue that’s on your limbs can catch a picture, heart, and high But it’s the way your moon can share the sky With peaks of your protectors’ eyes That makes me lust on the bust of night- And mends my wings for flawless flight.

[lucidruby-blog]

Marrakech

She growls, grasps, and laughs Her drab browns and reds with heads Of blue and wool beds Her mouth of loud eating snow and sand until full. Her hair grows oranges under a silken scarf- Milk and fruit settle soot and wash leather smoke From her saffron hands. And when the towers wake with song, Even she bows along with the face of her land- Before earth, God and Allah The embrace of strangers and friends.

[lucidruby-blog]

I reach out to touch my destiny with a cautious, shaking hand. I stop an inch away. Terror slithers up the back of my legs like snakes on stone after prey. Failure fans the flame of age-old shame, the remnants of a fruitless pursuit now soot. You always think you know for sure, and that’s when you slip, miss the point of the game- no minute is ever the same. Limit is a myth only here when permitted. But when I’m in it- I forget and get wrecked on the watch of my demons. The taller I stand, the higher the sky, the greater the gravity, a harder goodbye. But I am defiance, self reliant in stride- and I’ll dignify myself with a reason. A purpose. A dream on the divide between miracles and life. “Thirty pounds is heavy when it’s all you have,” I say to the February moon, “and soon, I’ll have no option but to try.” “So begin,” whispers wind as it grins invisibly, with me just an inch from the fringe. 

[lucidruby-blog]

The Pyrenees

Everyone asks, “why are you going?” and I know it’s not enough to say “just to see”. But it’s not up to me. I was lead here with a blindfold on my head. I tried to flea. When I arrived, I realized I was always free. It’s dark and vast. Here. Here. Here is where that music plays for me. Here is where we become soldiers that fight for good in an invisible world. Here is where we battle for the right to be ourselves. Here is where fear becomes an itch you can just scratch. And here is where I’ll be when you finally decide you want to be here, too, with me. I’ll meet you in the Pyrenees. 

[lucidruby-blog]

I’m older than my body. I’m bigger than my story. I’m energy, intention, allegory. I’m a waste-bin of discarded glory. I’m an intervention to convention and query. I’m oratory candy, and handsy with my eyes. I’m the demise of normal, stupid or wise. Daydreams shield my fragile ears while real life trembles in my thighs. 

[lucidruby-blog]

I was born the moment a wrecking ball collided with a kaleidoscope, and from that impact came a ride no one would ever take again. Understanding it is like reading a wet book. Yes, it’s exactly what you’d expect. Exactly what you want. It’s all here, I swear. I swear. I swear there are new colors and blank pages. Insanity is blinding with its twists and tilts, taunting its own agenda to kick the bucket. Arrive at the place you’ve always been. It costs you only your burdens- you know. The hopeless wallowing war cries in an empty battlefield. Above it, the sky is creamy black velvet petting the shameless exhibitionism of the stars. Look up to the newest born you.

[lucidruby-blog]

Salt

A teacher told me our lungs hold grief. I know this is true because When I smoke all the real gets weighed down with tar And I walk all over it after its dried like it’s nothing. Same teacher told me to offer up my pain. I know it’s all my fault. So I quit and writhe with a swollen wrist and drain the tank of my eyes As my sins escape my throat through a cough. And everything is a searing hot stone. Its majesty employs a completely still  Yet watchful cop to catch the illness. Go ahead, talk. Show me the safety in impulsivity  Tell me I’m worthless to exclusivity It’s why I bind- when the monsters surface they’re just  small drops of salt.

[lucidruby-blog]

See me? When my eyes are open there is light, hardly contained.  When my lips are soft there is poetry. When my body moves there is dance.  When I wake up I feel perfect, between the blades of a fan. When I see you I collapse, under the odds.  When you face what’s real, I’ll wait. 

[lucidruby-blog]

Lifetimes have invented me.  I am a product of boring classrooms hospital mornings  tattered sneakers broken dishes foreign pillows city fountains yellow mountains dirty car seats hollow secrets deadly thinking sweet love deceitful love stupid love love that was not love. I am a product of finding, and hoping, and dreaming,  and making and crying.  I am a product of being then blaming Being then shame Being then loving Being then being. I don’t break.

[lucidruby-blog]

I once waited on clouds for the moon to come around before remembering I was a nebula.  But you can’t lick the stars without swallowing smog, Or following galaxies as if they were ours. I can forgive the comet that scars- That’s up to gravity, not me.  And I don’t get far In such a thick coat- So many pockets and excuses Kept wet in my throat. To note, there are no unhappy endings.  Maybe cleansing or candid or impartially sharp No wrong, right, backhanded Just a quasar gone dark.

[dukeofbookingham-deactivated202]

Take care. You’re standing on the knife edge of fate.

Sophocles, Antigone (trans. Robert Bagg)

[lucidruby-blog]

Well, this is the place. It’s just how I imagined. The sound of it slipping Down marble bricks; An adamant white. The chance of it raining Up a splitting footpath Dressed with discard. Warm is what it could be, even if it’s not.  But love is just the logic If we leave it up to thought.

[lucidruby-blog]

How To Love

I want to tell you stories Of coconut milk and rosewater. Of how my rolling shoulders Feed medicinal for fear Of how being me is easy. I just take tiny sips from a cup labeled “How to Love” In black marker On the lid.

My heaven is no different from yours.

[yesterdaysprint]

Goldsboro Weekly Argus, North Carolina, December 19, 1901

[wrzky]

Best opening scene