Monday, 30 August 2010

peacock parallel...I of II parts

Quiet was the week
Had to stop my tongue,
had to

rollaway my cheek...

Ascend up the steep side
of Mute peak

 - katya

Of atomical analysis
in empirical wstern  laboratories
of the paradigm challenged

thyroid failures (allostases)
cancer treatments via baking soda
ye-o dilutions via the same
scientifically established
and material in legal cases...

therefore the common people
could now be swabbed
handled with spray on gloves
vacuum packed
and filed in the common peoples

archived, licked, smacked,
shot into bloodstreams IV
 FEELING shift
             MOOD SHIFT
psychological shift
biological shift
spiritual shift
soul shift
   ENVIRONMENTAL discrepancies
Occupational plane symptomatic of
marked lapses...

unemployment rose with
disability claims
requiring new protocols of
tightening of credit
and the commoners
required public defenders
just to secure SSI
(the leaking well of tax funds)

The top crust of class hierarchy
(blue bloods and new bloods)
Shot into space on high fructose corn syrup anti-gravity  thrusters
leaving snail trail sugars
for everglade ecosystems...

to see crop blown up on into manic sunset
the original landowners and farmers in a squeeze
vulnerable to corporate or mormon real estate acquisitions
at deep discount wholesale auctions
conducted by the police
to offset their cost of living
(without any associated breakouts of guilt)

THen came the
ravaging of circular spirals into the systems
onto the internet news and social media sites
all across the planet in diverse languages
 entire hierarchies of temperate zone bugs
so out of their minds in the spiral maze
psychotic bugs
ladybugs, cucarachas, lightning bugs, potatobugs, rose bugs
all gone psychotic


The movement of debugging had just to evolve
out of the melting polar glacier
which was bugging...
 became a

movement of bugging
up to the highest echelons, government sanctions
cia/fbi wiretaps from penthouse suites
to dopespots on streets

In this society plane upon which they nested
most came to be swept out from under the rug

once kept
now given,
faded oriental patterns where
ancestral symbols B living
into infinity
for all anybody knew
(not empirically true)
most likely true

Thought processes followed the mishap
psychiatrists benefited
tightened screwed wrapped around insurance collars
stuffed at red lobsters
ddhouse - katya  c2010
stuffed like lobsters
unlimited raw bar tab thrown in
appeal to the human primal appetite , full up and satiate,
overbloated the check, they pleaded until he wrote it!
across from some corporate pharmaceutical associate smiling
any integrity deprioritized
taken no floor, holding no stand
boundaries up in smoke tonight
cubans with dominican seed we for dessert.

days later
pushing new generation neurotransmitter supplements
as antidepressants with disclaimer --
'Only effective inconjunction with therapy'
and  'only refillable via psychiatrist office visit'

referrals to specialists never hurt
and then a ten minute assessment of symptology...
often leading to titration of current medication
or buttressed with symptom relieving prescriptions
all in the name of the comfort of the patient.

little did they know the karmic implication, unless the provider
was selfless and true advocate for patients... actions and choices
neurotransmitted up and out and through the crown chakras for
universal reception and response line sent by telegram
down to the kinds of negative feelingstates
that might push back
inspiring of activism on many fronts
immersed into cultural distrust of psychiatry
and thus the appropriate evolution
of westerners taking walks
through chinatown
for alternative cost-effective herbal
and chinese medicinal treatments
often direct from the source
that is nature.

Saturday, 28 August 2010

alchemicals distance themselves from chemicals at the dance

i can say it now
          tell it like it was...for it is
                                                     as it was
  undying still
all inside unlocking memories
half with chills thrown up
                                             in the air
  some despair
coming down in daggered sleet to soft snow.

her edges fit comfortably,
the night terrors --      i held her through.

i raised my head no longer burdened,
trusted my sentient self to her care. ..

her whole being was

light and most giving
. she held me through some waves
                                                           some winds
time past
           passed grieving


ashes of my baby girl
in cedar safely laid to rest...

like the sacred ash tree
in visuals
in sleep

our embrace.
our tears...

all the rest
tommorrow i will turn the tables
             tomorrow i
                        i release the tourniquet of your stressedness

we can eat shrimp
                                and ice cream?

back to that place we adore.
                                     legs tangled up...
             deep kissing


        stood, the trust.
stand by me
                  by you
Katya 2010
                        stand I.

and those times i turn
--over over over over over--
in your arms

and just cry

Tuesday, 17 August 2010

aperitif, senorita?

how I may help you begin your day before the sun has risen and fifty seven stories up in a five star hotel on an island caribbean or off the black sea salt air the cossacks once inhaled in knowing they were more than meagre peasants. may i carry you the glass cylindrical bowl from the chiller to your poolside indoor outdoor mist of morning, place it gently down whereby i pause a moment for you to admire the manicure of indian lavender you chose one week earlier one thousand three hundred or so miles away on the opposite side of the tropic of cancer?
Photograph by Katya, 08/10
where we cut through the tourists as the longboats cut through the channels outside peking on our last visit to what you called the 'outskirts of hong kong' and had me laughing in my mini so that i was struggling just to keep balance, and thank god and goddess alike for the 2% spandex in the purple band lining the top of my 40s fitzgerald, zelda sayre era fell to the floor anyway by the rapture of you in my presence, in the am early hours of a tuesday posing as a friday with us on the bed soon turned to queen, the grass soon lightened to green, love of you, 2 B with you, to be seen with you, 2 B on scene on point jail broken joint punctured with needle sharp, clean, by geisha spy risen high and american by blonde so to be made fond of pressure and acumen in capitalisms shadowy caged prisms of true light we emanate blue and white, true and truly now, can you hear it? feel it? you know -- out of mind, close to heart, out of sight.

Monday, 16 August 2010

Installment # VI

I can say it now & tell how i remember it... for it strikes this sun,  settles under this moon, with such expansive depth! touches all hearts untouched in a timeless surreal way. they were the ones who looked upon us. they stopped what they were doing, to see. we were not pleading to be found there, no, we wanted only to be alone in the simple complication of our love as she grew then and grows now, and some day shall extend on beyond both of us, like a vine up towards light, cut at source, ascends on into the night. undying still. or so i believe with all the faith in me. see. may not align with what youve been taught, no, but cannot be taught anyway, the feeling we feel!

Photo by Lorien,  2010

All inside this feeling. beat down doors, unlocked memories, dug into those hidden crates you thought you could keep secret. the feeling pushed around so hard new feelings arose out of her. half of them with chills thrown up in the air. coming down in daggered sleet to soft snow.

Her edges fit comfortably up against mine, we surfed the height of waves of emotions looked like walls. the night terrors i held her through. the shades of red my anger bled out on us, she softened toward pink. just by listening. just by caring. just by not backing off of my heat i cast out. my insanity i gave her. the realm of insecure feelings, i cast out of her ground. once the ground proved solid, her eyes wet my face. eyelids butterflied up to the ceiling. i raised my head no longer burdened, when i trusted my sentient self to her care. her whole being was fair. light and most giving. she held me through some waves and winds of time past grieving. the way we knew one another now. wow. all we shared. truly we cared.

Katya sepiashot 2010
Such was our intention, to travel realms hardly mentioned. the rose garden tucked away behind the city.  the edge where pacific meets the bay. the window open at dawn gave us the tall dying oak, once we pushed our bed against her wall. eastern light uplifted our mornings, our coffee, our yawning, our stretches out and about and around arms clasped together. the smiles we gave. the sharing of clothes we thrifted. the pushing out past suffered like dust sent spent into sunny california weather.

Rolling about in sunlight on the hill just up from town. The grand old theatre marqueed for her and I, she and me. trying so effortlessly to set one another free of all the old constraints. sawing away, or what we saw and what we see...sure blindness came over us at times. but she could see for me, that i know. and i could catch her off balance. or race her down the street. down the hidden stairway to find the pictures of Brando and Orpheus, Bette Davis and Done Away -- i mean Faye.

Talk of climbing trees. When we talked, soon to be. Feeling euphoria & maybe sore in our bodies, most of the time. sharing our secret writings. Listening to what we say, sometimes. More often talking over each other, its okay. So much to share, so much to say. Interruptions all day! push the agendas like wind pushing sails. still we lined them up then took down the rails... who could really stop us? like life we existed, whether it was just or not fair. all week we ran the town in our camisole tops on our long pale legs. drinking coke slush half the day, i swear. meeting farmer market folk with smiles all between us. eating almonds,  lucky charms -- spun out on kung pao four alarms.

Photo by Katya, 2010
At night she showed me chinese herbs. felt my six pulses. i watched and observed. She honored with me, silently, the ashes of my baby girl -- my cat in cedar safely laid to rest. I honored her to hold against those dreams sent down to terrify. Until she fell back asleep in my arms. Awoke I took a leak. Sisters here, now found! In love immersed, not drowned. Waters deep we waded.  held palms to palm we hoped to keep. spooned one another, faded into REM sleep.

Agitations before unsettled,  smoothed calm by our embrace. Our tears  like all the post traumatic stress, fell into a light mist unitive. Faced and confronted washed away to gray. Chance set up the constellations, through which we astral traveled now...synchronizations turned our sensations toward thoughts of hope dripping into silence. leaving soft water marks in the sink...

and back to that place we adore. legs tangled up. deep kissing.  faith and trust. stand by me, by you stand I. always to remember those times... i (you) turn into your (my) arms and just cry (cry). just cry.

Wednesday, 11 August 2010

Installment # V

The shadows falling, we cut down the falling shadows, we cut them down to let more light in.
The dark. The city... the  daily entreaty to the lost.... struggling and fighting. in warrior asana. in fleece. pulled apart. put together...again ripped to pieces.  We lay side by side in the park. reducing down to one another. light reduced to dark. bite reduced to bark. kingpin to mark.

precipitation became longer, waxier, stronger, heavier. louder.
hugs held on tight. compressions of breath exhaled as powder.
eyes fiercely glowing to reflect our knowing

love. she steeps long like some medicinal tease.
one moment we lost her
the next found the keys

She stole out into night with her purse, change of clothes,  and whole bunch of hope:
 red for the courage to defy the establishment
blue for the sadness in telling, departed
green for the youth of the passion ignited
purple for the aura to surround the white light
yellow band around this from the suns attraction
lunar pale dust to preserve and not rust...

 Rainbow were the colors i caught of her in traces
turned sepia passing through me
as i rode the bridge west,  towards her calling.
across the empty

All this moving closer
shifts us ever far away
deceptive like
shifting of sands...unable
to be grasped...sifting through
our fingers

out of reach
out of hand

perfume. little black dress buttoned over was she wearing.
clouded against all my heads brief small clearing
i squinted past the gas station in this godforsaken city
(bonfire of pipes meltdown lives to molten lava)
 the distance between us falls away...
all that stands between us now
yellow flashers
batting eyelids
witness to another high tide
love affair
Mark Powers Untitled
there in the bottoms
frayed and fringed
then in the street sunlight...

Tuesday, 10 August 2010

Installment # IV

The love was developing at a rapid pace, maybe overexposed, pulled out of the darkness too soon and struck blind by the rays of the midday sun. might have been so tragic, lost. could have been so elevated, mysterious, revered comme the unknown. or have been stomped out like the dark heart of the fire left smoking some dawn deep south in the chill of american winter.

well. so be it. For the end was worth the means...a couple of smiling young American ladies of Pole and Germanic heritage, talkin trash and slappin knees, ankles, asses...bellies. The surrounding ones fell often into orbit paths, stolen from agendas and drives, like a flush from Ace up hearts stolen, just missing the hearts five.
'Luxe Blue''  Katya 2010

this was why not a word was written in 14 days thats two weeks.... experiential trip. all intellect stole away. pointed fingers became tails between legs. cat became a kitten, dog no longer barked at the chicken. all was changed. these two, they were the centrality now. they were smitten (need not be said, smitten too were the orbiting masses) here onstage at the luxe blue. All Vegas spit dustorms of envy into spirals upward to catch the momentous LIVE LIVE LIVE affair. but fell back to desert from the rush of blue light reverberation, and air.

Scion of emotional star bursting. hunger satiate watched thirst in her thirsting. could soul attachment have been peripheral to the masses? glossed over like a phase, like a fling? these questions were not worth researching towards result. the salt and pepper essentials showered in the moment on devotees. cult following for sure. they came from all points to worship pointlessly. i mean in the locus wherever, nebraska where the ground was now sacred. in some farmers mudfield. acrid. cracking. losing wholeness. fragmenting, crying, becoming soulless....or was this too easy an assumption?

Another girl who considered herself a lady in reverse, met a lady straight forward, tense, angry, and terse. soulful they spoke to one another, against all common reason. it took a flash! like only a couple seconds to season. this kind of compassion born of receiving the gentle touch of blue. of 2 special girls. bringing light to one another, then projected to you and you. and you and you. and you.

The temporal went DL, the demons back to hell, all backed up withdrew! from the knowing that they knew. the coming together of two elements -- air and earth -- enough to descend from air and fall cresting to the turf... gone down to where we could base unite. acceleration back up to flight.

Whatever they did was blessed magic. Courageous precise movements which by a less than full spirit would have meteored, tragic. Magic.  what no one knew or could see. she became a touchstone. I became still and glowing. Silent tall, the trees.

Wednesday, 4 August 2010

Installment III - 'danger in safe ways'

She did for me, what no one knew or could see. what we did for we. she became a touchstone. like a mirror catching my image too. i tried to see my self blurry....the becoming had accelerated been, time got lost again. gotta stare for a while, or not look at all? brush my hair to either side to find the child within. the spirit, the foundation.
Photo by Katya 2010

with you became simple like locks and keys replacing handwheelrevolutions.
the ressurection of love moved like science -
well lit. even

still it was subtle and quick. like some sleight of hand magic trick. but it wasnt. all i know is the synchronicity, the energy, enlightened us in our dark loneliness of days past, years of silent waning waxing...

Taxing to the spirit! this kind of rush.
fallen away to

A dancer had inked the heart she wanted on her, the tag. This the heart she  wanted tore in diverse ways, and so it was...
barbed wired
touched to fire...

cut across in all sort of way
pinned on her arm to fade the days away.

and away we went, ya, each day spent. emotional. touching ever closer. yet still impossible the way it was situated, ya know, never quite fit the rank and culture demands. made us mad. made us fugitive. made our lands what we had no passport to, no more, disappeared overnight, pulled out from under, rip-tye-dyed blood red affiliations. they go for your heart, having none of their own. they wont have this, for we wont have this. i wont have this. you wont have this. distant like fantasy. all of it. yet so real like her, like me.
we cried almost out loud.
then sighed so sad you know the weeping willows wept.

Monday, 2 August 2010

Part II jeunesse...danger in safe ways

she had burned through her lungs the fire of death. ten years and one previous, i had been to that lake. lake of fire of the devil. i knew after one year i was on the take. taken. all my lifeblood discolored. all i held dear to my heart? forsaken. for some little snow white who captivated me. then when she transformed, it was all about the fight. the right to survive. the fight to stay alive. the desire to die, without her i knew...and in these new eyes across this halfway house hall, from the carpets on the floor, over the couches tumbled, then jumped off the wall to flip backward in time together, because you sometimes dont know you gotta relive your life, to stay alive & live on.

do the math. my five eleven to her five seven, but add a half inch to hers and 2 inch heels, drop us negligible metric measure, diametrically facing one another and already sure this would be never sure but hints came ever dilute through the radiant channel. focused at our best, we moved to planes unknown to both of us. impressive like thousand foot walls of granite, dripping water so lovingly to the soil below, damn it! so wonderful you cannot imagine. beauty above most below cannot fathom.

the telling of it as it happened to us, we tried. no wild imagination configured how fucking sweet this could be. no sucking lie could promise as much. promise is like putting up with vulnerability, what you have left of rusted cesspool trust. like that salty place where the living ocean never met the dead sea. the scrolls had to be written, but then lost, you see. the water flooded them, they soaked the paper. the trees need no ink. no verse to measure. our eyes withstood the weather... our hearts brewed tornados. in oil she taught me to dip the bread. this was juicy like tomatoes.

the rings we exchanged in not a week and some change. now wasnt it strange? strange was the way, danger we fronted directly in plain overcoming and in safe ways discovered, sometimes just outdoors, other times required cunning. lemon peeled and orange aura feelings. had me kneeling. had her kneeling. amidst wheeling, amidst dealing. using. stealing. A bitter cruel place like dickens london was for boys. attrition of black lung and chimney sweeping kind of noise.

what do i remember, what will memory offer me? you know sometimes it just gets sucked up the vortex like the life right up the tree, the water i mean, so long as its recycled and like laundry its circling, its rolling, its falling into itself. sometimes grasping. sometimes holding. sometimes spilling out all over the place. door wide open and on the cold cement floor unfolded. getting cold there. giving up its warmth. collective no longer. individually seen there. up under. you scoop it in your arms. you know this shirt, this matching bottom. the one missing buttons on the collar. pulled off by him. or by her. or by yourself in the fearful moments. the anxious ones that used to be so far between. infrequent panic attack scene. she knew of this like i did. together she gave me deeper understanding. like panic was not about the moment whatsoever. no. panic was like the end of your forever. mine i mean. like my experience was concluded. violent like the guillotine, the fall of the blade. who could have invented such a horrifying cascade of sharpened pure evil? probably a religion bent on survival. having forgotten the similarities, and focused on the differences. or focused on the blindness of one of five conscious senses?

not here. not now. not this anymore. subtle sense relation and sensation came over the scene. between her, between me, putting energy on bones so so lonely and lean. lean on me and lean on you. what we both needed. what for both of us was true. following every day a new and fascinating clue. 

she would learn im a Huguenot. French by nature, thank you. we fell under the blade, some of us. we exodus made, some of us. to other lands. out of the heated sun of religion. into shade. to anything less cruel than bad mad bludgeoning. and She knew a similar kind of exodus, the one she was making, or trying so with all her heart. to her i saw, the desert sands would be like paradise. singing sand through your teeth, as each mirage fades away. still you are free of the murderous bastards. the ones whose spirits burned up long ago. they live and survive on chasing an echo of an epoch long ago.

so she and i knew suffering alike. and yet she smiled so nicely, and had gripped the open mic. she had loved so truly, a tragic love that haunted her. her redemption in the telling of the love that swamped her. i had mine too, ten years gone but still true to tell, and post traumatically fallen, across our heads and vertically down our tears now fell. i watched hers melt into my cottons. there was something here i must go home with, not like all the rest i chose and forgotten.

what was this? what was it NOT? this our very placement, our lot. lucky 7 lottery drawn. cared for and home grown, kept in the pocket hidden, sewn.  she i took knees to. to listen to her unfolding story. the pain, the courage, the personal morning glories. horizontal at dusk. mysterious spoken lust. a jeunesse of forming trust. why did i stop everything and drop down for her? because! i must!

await part III

Part 1 : why us two? 2K...'danger in safe ways '

de jeunesse our love so strong...

forte true like muscle (sinew).  and so, within days, this love she grew and grew. could not be contained this was.... why? you ask, oh how? BECAUSE! love i could say with artisan flair. love is fast and transparent  (comme air).... we inhale her. she fills us. exhale...then the cycle, she pulls us. you dont exhale and just stop breathing? you dont feel love without her becoming your living vitality? your cause!

she saw me first, yes, and when i saw her back...fell away all jurisdiction, laws... all rules & protocols. thats how it was. thats how it must be sometimes, against the mass understandings. complicated to find yourself up on a wave, surfing.but the edge im not afraid of, nor was she...we both knew too soon the edges were what we were made of.

the immediate memory was hearing through grapevines.  the word on the street some blonde tall divine. the young Russian even said so, the girl who lost her mind. 'shes real sweet. shes real, you will find.' the Russian, well, you know, she was not often so kind. since her thrill left her dark on the streets. nowhere to rest, no desire to eat. maybe possessed. tough hands. tough feet. still somehow old soul, though small and petite. not the kind so remarkably street.

so when i felt her across from me the room. shaken from where i was moored,  i lifted my head. i was preaching my sense at the time, talking and moving my feet. i had just made a spirited streetscience-esque beat. i was raised not on books, no, but saltpepper corn and wheat. or so i liked to be believed. truth somewhere in there, sometimes retrieved. i lifted and looked, and returned was the look in her eyes. some wornout of wornout, sighing of sighs. i felt this in my thighs. sat back down quickly. crossed my legs. the ladybug i had brought as mascot of the place, nowhere near me. she caught me i her, we caught us by surprise. not like some web. but rather some appreciative compromise. a promise with just a subtle look in the eyes. enough to know what lives, what dies.

part II is next...