-The Broken Heart Bleeds the Reddest Blood-

-The Broken Heart Bleeds the Reddest Blood-

He said:
'It is a beautiful mystery my love,
you and i, together, are a part of it,
with our hearts connected,
within the great art of it...

Nothing we could ever do,
would ever change a word of it,
for the truth of it... my love,
is that, love, is all of it'.

...

Don't you know that I'm breaking,
coming apart at the seams,
cracking in every one of my dreams,
and as the shards fall to the ground,
your shadow light blisters through the cracks,
bathing me in an eternity of you.

I hate that I love you,
to feel this pain drag me around,
smash me to the ground,
leave me lost where you are found,
and all the while left to wonder,
how you ever got so deep inside my soul,
wound around an endless staircase,
descending into a bottomless hole.

Every day I resign to break free,
as I make a new pledge,
to split apart, to rip out my heart,
to tear away the remnants of this haunting,
and in the moment of my triumph,
you come, with just a word,
and I am lashed to that mast again, unheard,
smashed in a torrent of loves tempest,
all conviction routed,
every direction doubted,
swept into the deep,
left in a heep, of this love...

You are all of me,
and in your soul I drown,
sucked down into the abyss of you,
into the endless soulful deep
of your fathomless blue.

Breathe for me my love, please god! breathe for me.

...

"Wait!"

I heard you say...
or was it I?
It seemed so very far away.

"Wait!... but don't wait for me"
for I am gone, and drowned,
my heart turned out,
spilt into this endless sea...

"Wait!... but don't wait for me,
for the broken heart bleeds the reddest blood".

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Adieu le passé, bonjour le présent, et vive l'avenir

Adieu le passé, bonjour le présent, et vive l'avenir

Into the clear blue of a twilight sky,
Venus and her slivered new moon,
dance to the suns fading tune,
a swirl of cool iridescence,
twirls amidst the nightingales first trill.

Her Jovian chaperon,
winks through the wisping clouds,
as they play in apricot shrouds
sweeping across pale blue hues,
a divine smile flashing across this heavenly evensong.

'Adieu!... adieu mon cher, adieu'...

A glimpse of shadow
slips between the sheen,
a rhapsody of spheres,
caught within a stream,
eyes that twinkle as the stars appear,
from out the blue, both dark and near.

Painted with light,
upon a phosphorescent screen,
this tableaux of desire,
a simulacrum of a dream;
The mirror of divinity is rarely what it seems.

'Adieu!... adieu mon cher, adieu'...

Adieu le passé,
bonjour le présent,
et vive l'avenir.
  
© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Courage to Grieve

Courage to Grieve

There are those that sink in the mire,
believing that hate is their crown,
swallowed by all they desire,
without courage to openly drown,
in a pool of fire and blood,
washed out of a heart ripped asunder
to be torn in a chaotic flood,
decimated by lightening and thunder.
Yet they offer a gift to the wary,
lest you follow them down to that bane,
to deny all the grief that they carry,
is a load that is hard to maintain.
So they shuffle it off as they can,
to each person they see of the same,
and in concert maintain the great sham,
tied together the hobbled and lame.

The courage to know that with time,
perspective returns to the soul,
imbued with wisdom's dark climb,
from out of that perilous hole,
where the shock and denial led to anger,
and the rage it released was turned in,
overwhelming the heart with disaster,
loss of meaning, the hope was made thin;
A wisp of a thread woven slightly,
the delicate story unfolds,
spoken on airs that drift lightly,
into ears, as your fingers lose hold,
believing below you will plummet,
the fear in your heart is misplaced,
as anxiety reaches its summit,
crescendo's of love come with grace.

If you believe that your freedom,
is maintained by running from love,
then descending down into that kingdom,
You will lose both the key from above,
and the one that allows you to know,
that beneath the dark ominous skies,
in the place of great darkness below,
is a path through a door without lies,
that transmutes each pale wanton sorrow,
and breaks every link in that grief,
replaced with a light from tomorrow,
blessed hope, the great grace of relief,
where your heart is reborn in a rapture,
and sits in a breast pure and gold,
to garnish each sweet blessed gesture,
with ebullient love new and old.

Have courage to sink into sorrow,
fear not the night of the heart,
though it feels like a dark empty hollow,
given time, will enlighten your art,
for even the fury and wrath,
that stretches the sinew of soul,
enriches each step on the path,
as the remnants and shards become whole.
So fear not the dark but accept it,
with a true loving open soft heart,
and know in the depths of your dark pit,
is a light full of love to restart.
Have the courage to suffer the torment,
while the denizen haters redound,
and your soul will arise from the foment,
to break forth in triumph, new ground.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

As Above, So Below

As Above, So Below

Hold the keys in your heart,
and remember while you grow,
from the end to the start,
'As Above, So Below'.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Nothing

Nothing

It's a terrible thing to realize you are nothing.
That the only reason you have lost everything,
anything that ever mattered,
is that you are nothing.

No one, from nowhere, with nothing.

The love of your life has vanished,
because you were nothing,
and nothing really mattered in the end.

No one, going nowhere, with nothing.

Every vestige, every distraction, gone,
every appendage, every trust, gone,
every worthless association, gone,
every dictatorial game, gone,
every dream, every thought, every feeling, gone,
every thing that ever meant anything, gone.

The terror of that realization,
the trembling in the pit of uncertainty,
has liberty sown into its core.

For when you are no one, with nothing,
anywhere you go, is somewhere,
anything you do, is something,
and anyone you become, is someone.

For you have everything to gain,
and nothing to lose,
nothing.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

-If You Should Come To Me In Dreams-

-If You Should Come To Me In Dreams-


If you should come to me in dreams,
let o'er the ages we have loved come with you,
that we might sweep aside the discontented streams,
and swim the starry night from out the blue;

To find that in some hallowed cloistered light,
where rivulets of love in us did grow,
a torrent of each mighty loves delight,
should merge upon this rapids overflow;

Then fall into some chasms chute, the chastened,
will dance a fervid epiphanic tune,
a swirling maelstroms dip in them that's hastened,
two sprites entwined beneath a lovers moon.

If you should come to me in dreams,
Let o'er the heavens be our palettes sweep,
upon a canvas mild and of extremes,
a masterpiece of love both true and deep.

Let not dull Morpheus, with opiated ear,
bear down upon two souls brief kept apart,
but hold upon this love both far and near,
awaken to our dream from whence we start.

For i have loved you all these distant eons,
and ne'er have i turned my heart to stone,
this love, the strongest of adhesions,
could never leave the two of us alone.

Far flung across a sea of stars connected,
each one conjoined, traversing starry night,
to raise a love once lost, now resurrected,
this rainbows arc across some hallowed flight.

If you should come to me in dreams,
come with a kiss, and my lips shall part for you,
a succulence of passions bliss,
a token of this heart made true.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Where do all the old swans go?

Where do all the old Swans go?

Today i saw a dying swan,
leaning tattered against a railing,
it seemed to fall like a stone
pushing off , alone, into the water;
Yellow encrusted feathers,
no longer sleek upon its back.
It swam in circles, one leg cocked,
as if encircling a missing mate,
as i lent upon an unopened gate;
The canal ebbed ever onward,
no longer choked with winter moss,
ceaselessly drifting along,
a timeless reminder of passing loss;
Was it only yesterday i saw you fly?
two bye two into that sun ravaged sky.
You seemed replete,
with wings that never missed a beat,
and always the promise of another spring,
another cycle of warm remembrance,
a feathered plume of song and dance;
Now that swan swims alone,
waiting upon times endless eddy's,
caught in a lonesome rift,
in a stream that seems never to shift;
The old gate opened,
a rusty testament to natures ceaseless pursuit.
The crooked neck keeled over,
resting a head upon the water,
unable to direct the motion any longer.
The languid flow, flotsam to a distant shore,
feathers preened nevermore;
As i closed the gate,
a head rose in defiance,
wings spread­eagled, echoes of a former glory,
a retort of undeniable magnificence;
Where do all the old Swans go?
Yellow, ragged and foul,
at night, you can hear the silence,
and the call of the owl.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012



Artwork by Carola E. Thiele

Only Love

Only Love

What lover, has not fought another?
in the tumult of that sea,
the rage of all god the almighty
flowing through every pounding vein
to mark us out as insane
no quarter is asked
nor given
for in love we are but vessels
tossed in a mighty current of emotion
shipwrecked and lost
within a mountainous ocean
to grieve for the wind
is a hubris
to love and not to howl
what mortal soul has ever loved
that has not strewn themselves upon the waves
smashed each word into another
fought with a fury with their lover
there is no guilt
there is no pardon
there is only love
only love
love.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012

Magnolia

Magnolia

Now, is the moment of your eternity,
the timeless transcendent sweep of your dance,
the giddy joy of your spirit,
stirring the seconds into a trance.

Now, is the forge of your steel,
the swirling fire of that giddy spinning wheel,
the tumult of the minutes grasped,
a razors edge honed as they passed.

Now, is the hour of your risen glory,
the lessons learn't in your ascendant story,
the foaming wash upon that sand whisked beach,
the hourglass of your endless reach.

Now, in this moment found,
spun upon your holy ground,
to triumph over all you fought,
and find the golden age you sought.

Now, a lifetime in an instant,
brought forth from out the distant,
laid bare before your throne,
sweet fragrance of your own.

All those days, hours,
years that passed,
we waited for this tree to grow,
rejoicing now,
for it blooms at last,
sweet perfumed gift,
of seeds once sown.

This damsel Magnolia ripens,
and in its fragrant airs,
the sun, the moon, and all the world
is here.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012



Artwork by Lorraine Sumners

This Love...

This Love...

This love is a fire
and in the flame I am consumed
like a coal to hot ashes
that burns away all that is not you.
I tried to cut the flame
the rising heat that flickers in this wind
the light in the darkness between us
the distance of time without you
but no knife is keen enough
nor scythe so sharp
it could ever slit the blaze.
Wild, in blood it burns
and overturns every will
every wall I have created.
Cinders to the fire
these shattered remnants of my heart
consumed in a smelt of desire.
To live with only the memory of you
is a hell in the making
but to live without you
a fiery torment
in the furnace of my breaking.
Lick upon my soul
devour the breath inside me
for to know that you live
is a death,
without you beside me.
This love
the bloody fire of arrows wrought
that rents the sinew of my soul
will never die
soothed only in the whole
a balm of this union between you and I.

I am aflame in your hearth
and in this tempests fiery wind
I burn for you.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012