There Is A Light

-There Is A Light-

"I don't know what to tell you" he said.

"I only know it gets harder every time. The world grows a little darker, and the wind a little colder, and there comes a moment when you wonder whether you ever felt at all. So dark and numbed by it all.

Perhaps your standing at a check out, staring blankly at the head in front of you, waiting for your turn to dance with the plastic bags and fake food you have bought for dinner, and there comes a moment, in the drab monotony of that emptiness, a simple moment when all the pain in your heart and the blocks in your head are forgotten, lost in the mist of that nothingness, when someone says something, or you do something quite spontaneously, and for an instant the light that is within you breaks through.

Seize that moment. Know it for what it is, the truth of the light within you.

For that light is never extinguished. Though it be dulled by scars that have built upon your heart, with every betrayal, every sunken hope, though it be obscured by the towers and walls you have built in your mind to protect your heart from the withering assault of that pain, it burns still. It's light kindled in the depths of the deepest darkness. It is just that, as time passes, and the tarnishing's of love set down their slow decay, it gets harder to remember. So hard in fact that at times, the blocks and the scars, the pain and the masks we build to forestall it, halt the light, until, seated on the throne of our own turbid mind, we can no longer see it's glory. No longer feel the warmth of it's ray, as it passes inspection, obscured by all the tissues and walls that lay between awareness and the truth.

So, in those moments, those simple moments in which love, or communion, laughter, or a simple gesture erupt out of you, quite beyond your conscious control, understand that this is your soul breaking through, this is the truth of you, the light that shone so brightly before the world and all it's infinite betrayals got a hold of you, and twisted your vision into blindness. Know that you are more beautiful than you might ever have suspected, and that though you can no longer see it, still, it remains, and in those moments of emptiness, love has a way of opening a new door.

All that remains, is for you to walk through."

© Richard Michael Parker 2015

The Perigee Of Early Spring

-The Perigee of Early Spring-

The moon, she shines,
without favour or disguise, both,
upon the joyous and the bitter sunken eyed.
The weeping pools,
seeping between the corpulent shadows,
tree wrung gargoyles,
hung upon the bough of the midnight queen.
Seldom seen, upon the fleck of cherried air,
heavy in a dream, bare upon the sacred hill,
where the drum and tambourine, beat upon the wind.
'I'll meet you there'! - 'I'll meet you there'! '
Where the golly goblins sprawl,
between the orange scented call; 'There'!
Where your hair, all tangerine,
flounced upon your green eyes, moonstruck,
glared into the fires feckled hue,
and plucked the rosy suckle bare,
to shuck the huckleberry blue.
Dancing on the naked hill,
the parchment and dishevelled quill,
dipped into the inky well, pounced,
between your painted toes, and silver bell,
all crackling groans of an ancient toll;
The swollen dips, the sunken lips.
We learnt it well;
We learnt it well.

The moon, she shines,
without favour or disguise;
The road is long, and the way is dark, without her.

© Richard Michael Parker 2014

Opalescence

-Opalescence-

The opalescence of your eyes,
shimmers in Novembers pale sun,
and all the world is stolen,
still, in the glint of this silver thread,
woven between us.

The tethered serenade of a nightingale,
swims through the midnight branches,
an overhang of tenderness,
a canopy of moonlight,
dancing amongst the shadows,
the dipping lip,
creased in languid motions,
the teasing oceans of your warm breath,
swept upon the somnolence of this summers breeze.

How solemn the death.
The madness and insanity,
the shattered revelry,
broken in the crepuscular awakening
of this suns shrill call.

How fateful the fall of that larks sweet note,
the swollen throat of the broaching dawn.

And still... I love you still,
though all the sea's lay between us,
and time jealously guard our secret.

I close my eyes, and in that instant,
your summer moon invades the winter snows,
and all the frozen world about,
cannot keep me out of paradise.
The warmth of your touch,
an oasis of moonlight,
stark, against the harsh sun of reality.

And still... I love you still,
and being still, you are with me.

© Richard Michael Parker 2014

The Crucible of Love

The Crucible of Love

The Lord of swiftness comes!
seated upon the dulcet silence of the rainbow,
and every naked shower that broke,
in the belly of the tumult, eased again,
clothed in the fading clouds of the thunderbolt.

How ragged the teeth, the jagged edge of death,
that sweeps across the plain of loves devoured halo.
How quickly it is rent, in the might of the foment,
while every supplicant, illumed, is swallowed below.

For ever has it been the truth, that love abides no chain,
nor bond, nor broken vow, nor frightened heart, nor shame.
In formless might, it renders all control, conceit,
to toss in fright, chaotic light, into the flame, deceit.

'Too late', I thought, 'Too late! we wait an age,
and so it seemed all hell had ascended.
Departing calm, defriended, no balm to ease love ended.
I heard the willow whisper in soothing tones,
in the midst of the yawning chasm of that fiery breech,
and it was, as if, in moonlit speech,
it soothed the tempests rage that burnt my breast,
'Come rest' she said, in silent arms,
to know that loves bequest is tranquil in it's gift.
All slag burnt away, the inconsequential waste,
tossed upon the pyre, the holy alters light,
of loves devouring fire.

'It is only fear, burnt from out the crucible of love,
that tears the soul in twain; It is only pride,
severed in the rage, tossed into the flame,
that sweeps away the thunderbolt and rain.'

How sweet the first sup of air, when smelted wroth,
departs, stripping away all doubt and fear.
How bright the dawn from out the dark well of night,
the furies hour, leaving only the intimate truth.

Redoubled, the bond made brighter, Loves herald,
seated in wing'd chariot, to descend upon each tormented lover.
Joyous contentedness, effortlessly slips between the remnants,
the salvaged sentiments, poured in mellifluous strains
through the harp strings, the heavenly reigns, held sweetly.

The Lord of swiftness comes!
seated upon the dulcet silence of the rainbow!
Loves tranquil sun, rising upon the ashes of the shadow.

© Richard Michael Parker 2014

 

Sweet Surrender

-Sweet Surrender-

And if all the world resolved,
to change the loving heart,
to maim the union that bore it's breast,
and burst upon the living land, would it rest?
Could it turn the torment of the distance,
For even one second into something other than what it is?
Love, incalculable, incorruptible love,
the fire in our veins, the molten core of desolation!
When all the walls we stoutly built,
between the object and our doubt,
have finally been erected,
do you still believe they will stand?
That they could ever have forestalled this Titans roar!
this fury! What hubris! the proud mind,
useless before the foments fiery breach,
a fools fortress on the soil of some foreign land!
Even proud Apollo,
luminescent upon his bright ray of dawn,
could not forestall loves glory.
Though he build a universe to divide it,
still the weft and the warp measure the weave!
Even He! of such empyreal majesty,
bows before the cherubs wing.
What then of we? Mortal beings!
Who vainly believe we control our destiny!
What hubris destroys the tower?
The triumphant hour,
when every brick is smashed before the great amour,
crashed upon the floor.
And for what?
Our choice is but to lament,
or in humility, all resistance spent,
sing! Surrender! Sweet Surrender!
Surrender, the vulnerable truth,
the tender mercy of mortal youth!
Surrender, or fall...
the fateful choice of lovers, all.

© Richard Michael Parker 2014



Artwork: Artist Unknown

Winters Cool Flame

-Winters Cool Flame-

Winters cool flame,
melts the frozen heart,
the effulgence of snapping tongues,
licking at the stars,
an endless swirl, a giddy dance,
suckled in the presence of our God.
For love is the whole of the law.

Inhale the fragrance,
the heady residue of pollinated musk,
slick between the petals of fire.
Red velvet in your hand;
The frozen land,
melting to the warmth of your touch.

The sallow hearth,
rekindled in the depths at last...
An incandescence of desire,
tossed, like all those past regrets,
upon the glowing embers of this pyre,
consumed within the licking flame,
the holy fire, the screaming of your name.

And out that darkened frigid womb,
the sacred seed, from heat exhumed,
an ancient glow, renewed, reborn,
a risen sun, a golden dawn.

For even in the darkened depths,
the frozen land of past regrets,
Love calls your name.

© Richard Michael Parker 2013





Photograph: Artist Unknown

-À La Carte-

-À La Carte-

Rest well your eyes,
greedily feeding and freed,
the disconsolate lies,
blindly needing,
desirously bleeding the seed.

No longer chained to the banquet table,
slipping between the sable seats;
The fabled goblet of unending wine,
suckled in the fire and the heat.
The tantalizing taste of each dread morsel,
quaffed in a bevy of lascivity.

This licentious concoction imbibed,
a boudoir buffet, the best of selections,
served À la carte, each heart filled projection,
crushed between the palette and the tongue,
far flung, upon the soulful pyre,
the solemn bell, wrung, with every lamb,
slaughtered upon the alter of desire.

Unhaltered greed,
the famished hole, the fleshly treat,
discarding the greens eating only the meat.
The sickly sweet cake of unending frosting,
churning, endlessly yearning for a substance
that will never come.

The flippant and fripperous wave,
the obsolete depths, an intimacy betrayed,
upon the wavelets of a passing shore.
What more could a dolphin crave?
Suckled upon the surface of things.

Too far this sea, this ocean deep,
that swells the fathoms bell far below me.
Too far, too fleeting it's call.

When all the world lay beneath your fingertips,
supped upon some foreign lips,
sucked into the void of thrusting hips,
this oceans swell became a puddle, a pool,
a shallow hell, born lightly, schooled,
in the absence of faith.

Even in the silent hour, I hear your voice,
the shower of your bright body, tossed,
every choice, lost, in the foment of desire,
every cost, has its price.

Rest well your eyes,
greedily feeding and freed,
the disconsolate lies,
blindly needing,
desirously bleeding the seed.

© Richard Michael Parker 2013

A New Home

-A New Home-

I have crossed the world for you...
the vast reaches of time,
only to be with you,
only to form this soul anew.
I have brushed off the darkest spaces,
thrown out the past...
the useless moments and endless stains,
cleansed and waiting only for your touch.
No spot has remained.
No shadow unmoved remains to haunt us.
Endlessly, tirelessly I have worked,
to ready this heart for the knock,
to greet you at the door,
and welcome you home.
To live together as one,
to love in this place,
the warmth and joy of the welcomed space.
Filled with the bright light of loves sweet summer,
Invading each window, a crystal sheen,
spotlessly cleaned.
The hanging frames of windows,
shining in their luminescence.
A rainbow of hope and promise,
entwined and kissed upon the threshold.
I love you with all that I am,
all that I will ever be.
Know that without you,
this space is but a barren shell, a house,
but you my love, have made this soul,
a home.

© Richard Michael Parker 2013

A Quiet River

-A Quiet River-

Could it be any deeper.
This slow eminence of my heart,
weaving between the fractured scars,
a soulful melody that rings the chiming bell,
the shadows released;
Your soft skin gently lain upon my breast,
a heartbeat easing within.
I felt the sinking feeling again,
crossed swords aching in a memory,
and still your skin above me.
The cooing dove that beckons,
'come out of your cave',
'come out into the sun my heart'.
Struck by the moon, a dampened space,
where only heartache has left it's fingerprints.
Learning to trust again can be the hardest lesson of all.
And still your softness surrounds me,
and I feel the flood of this slow love,
a quiet river, sipping at the banks of my heart.

© Richard Michael Parker 2013

A River Deep

-A River Deep-

Our love is like a river deep,
it flows from off the highest peeks,
frozen in the ice of winters chill breath.

At times we wonder where the warmth has gone,
the summer sun, suckled amidst a warm kiss,
vanishes in the mists, a silky dew of loss and remiss,
leaving only the memory of each naked breast,
teased between soft fingertips,
lain upon the frigid climbs to rest.

We doubt the fire, the passion of summers past,
in these days of coddled hibernation,
Yet, natures ways arouse even in the coldest season.

The thaw of springs first melt,
the frozen heart, felt, beneath the rapids tilt,
the chaos and the roar,
the thrusting hilt released upon the risen Tor.

All doubt consumed in the rolling hills of chaos,
a flood from off the mountain top.
We need only wait, with faith and patience,
a kinder fate, for minds locked in icy anticipation.

The river runs, a foments might,
amidst the rocks and scraggy boulders,
this love, one year older.

Widening out into summers, lark sweet meadows,
the somnolence and crush of sated flesh,
two souls reclined on sunlit bowers, no shadows,
compete with dew dropped lips, in heat, enmeshed.
The moistened fingers dipped in waters sweet.

Fear not the frozen hour,
Know only that nature has her seasons,
her reasons for the silent moment.
The quiet too is a balance of divinity.
An Angels silent wings,
brushed, across the surface of things.

And all too soon again we plunge,
rush, revel in the waters crush,
even the wide shallows are embraced,
a quiescent grace, sucked into the air,
to shower down upon the mountain peaks,
the gathering drifts, cuddled snowflakes,
to rest again, and sleep beneath emotive cliffs.

This ice and glory, the fire and the frigid flame,
are but natures endless cycles, the seasons change,
but the stories the same.

Our love is like a mountain thaw,
the river runs deep,
in timeless circles, evermore,
one love, with you, complete.

© Richard Michael Parker 2013