Tuesday, December 16, 2008

fall to earth.

White lace cloud sewn to the rim of a maya blue sky, dusk of her day folds around the earth, wishing dreams and prayer would permit her fly from, so in its place she stands still letting bygones be well on their way, but this hibiscus blossom is for you, heeding in your sleep her confessionals as they spill to the wind, the echo of him is still in her thoughts, did he once breathe to think that she forgot
what lives inside of her?
In her chest is the spirit that submits to his fire, consumed upon the altar of her self-sacrifice, to sentence self to death because, he is her very life, and he will never know it.
Call it normal, name it loneliness, christen it suffering, baptize it worthless, but she understands the depth of his rareness,
heaven calls him poet.
and this
is the centre of her universe.
She orbits in silence, cursed daughter of eve,
who by the sweat of her brow will toil tears and eat her own words.

Copyright (c) 2008

-Arielle John

Tuesday, December 9, 2008


Directing the needle of my hopes towards a true north star,
The dart in my pinned flesh,
Supporting anticipated danger
In living as we do.
A dagger hinges on reality and displaces truth
And a sword shall pierce her heart..
I cyah recruit anymore salt-water to fall from meh sky
The storehouse empty and de whole dam dry,
The whole damn thing she lie about..
South is to sink and suppress and drown
My own fears of somebody to love
A non-requirement?
Anon requirement?
A nun being quieted in the fading of a call she once expected to be the only voice…