Thursday, May 21, 2009

Listless Fate

listless is my fate
repetition of nature
a heart in flames
blaze of her green eyes
a master dare not tame

another crow
perched on a closed gate
resting on
a chance taken too late
black feathers on her face
a mask the tears made
she doesn't fly by
her mistakes
wings of the grave
listless fate

hidden dreams
a world away
sleeping by
an ocean of faith
Jesus glided
on a mermaid's wake

shells of grace
lined with angel lace
wash to a communal shore
but she never walks
on that sand anymore

I'm trying
to understand
why I'm dying
for dirty hands
I'm flying
with wings of the grave
I'm writing
a listless fate
listless fate

(c) Jessica Robbins

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Where is this place?

i had a life
it was a story book
but i wrote it away
in search of justice
in place of love

i had a way
it was practical
now the cat, fucking radical
is chewing on my dreams
at least one of us is eating
horrific feline, Siamese obscene
gnawing and clawing
on a tablet
bound by black seams

i had a face
it was hard to see
appropriated epiphany
wasted scratch
Cabernet splash
the spirit itched
as the flesh
gave way
rotted core
by the time i forgave

i had it bad
good insane
welcome to
my mistakes
misty mind
cell desecrate
i won't look
the other way
while the angels arrange
justice in place

i had a cut
slit the right way
the doctor sewed me shut
can't heal enough
honorific skin
stitched without
scarred within
never a coat to wear again
i loaned it to
a needing friend

i had a wedding
it was typical
black veil
holy veins
purple poison
painstaking sips
that gave honor

i had a plan
topless rays
copper consecrate
sober man
angry face
seduce a tail
then contemplate
delicate skin
that gives honor

i had a home
green shutters
perfect landscape
but it wasn't enough
so I gave it away
and now i know
justice is a place

Monday, May 18, 2009

Formless void

No matter how much I pour out my soul
I'm still empty
long way from being whole
no core comes
from a broken mold
how can new roots
ever replace the old
still i grow
yes i grow

grow empty

no matter how much i cry
i still can't cope with this life
hope further denied
gradual darkness resides
in me

formless void no use
so useless i could die
no sanctuary
in getting high
no white flags
in a war torn sky
surrendering only
to the wrong knight
mangled in blindness
the horse looked white

no matter the hope his eyes gave
the light left
now he looks at me with disdain
no learning
from his ways
just a lesson to misbehave
another lesson only made
in confusion wrapped by hate

shame me not
i'm not dead
just empty
i know you can see me
but i bet
you'd never want to be me
i'm not dead
Layne can see me

I'm so empty
so empty
that's why he said he was like me

trade me in
(for your gain)
carve me out
(i'll still feel the same)
echo and hallow
dying out loud
emptiness of now
impression too deep
repression of me
resistance to defeat
predisposed to the grief
a closed heart has forsaken me
yet i'm still open
to being empty

-whatever it's not like my name even matters

Saturday, May 9, 2009

If you hate it then you hate me

Past that phase
impulsive haste
no more lives to waste
living in your face
blue eyes of grace
a fixed race
only to dig my grave
absent will
traded place
empty social grace
bought for a time
yet he cannot hide
from me
he cannot fly
i still see
victory in me

he pretends
he has no friends
he wrote me a song
yet the feelings are never gone
infinite dream, so long
he painted my soul in a song
stroke for stroke
i'm dead and broke
glory uplifting
eternal amending
Jesus paused and spoke

-Jessica Robbins

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Deathless I rose
Fate predisposed
transmuted darkness
catapulted into the throes

Magnetism carried
desires unnecessary
pardon my evil
an earth in upheavals
mediate, a peaceful place to go

natures of astral
allow me to travel
between above
and the chaos below

silence my head
release my body
unlock mystery karma taught me
cycle of light flow

calmness of nine
may i finally know this time
so at last i can leave it behind
just to stay home
Law of grace
eternal repose
deathless rose

(c) Jessica Robbins

Friday, May 1, 2009

Doormat of Mercy

I slept for a few fleeting hours until the danger of absent emotion woke me up to feel nothing again. My aches come only from within the cells of unused and abused love that never takes place or seeks me while I'm awake. I suppose the relationships I once tried to fill the void with were nothing more than pebbles in a pond that only lead to an ocean in my dreams. Straight to God, where the only true source of love indefinitely resides; everything else in this carcass of a world is a generic replica of His intention. The concept of a twin flame has burned my mind before, but stands as nothing more than a vacant mirage of hope. Jesus once flew into my body in a dream and I haven't seen him apart from me since. The message being conveyed in his gesture of undivided unison was clear, still, I miss seeing him in my dreams. I miss the way he would stare at me and not say a word, but read my mind and speak to me through it. I miss the shimmering galaxy in his dewy eyes, the look of arousal at the mere sight of my energy. It's so effortless, standing in his presence, knowing I have no other place to be, no more appointments to keep, weeds to pull, or bills to open and burn. There is a sense of certainty and closure when I am with him that I shall never find anywhere else. He says that life is beautiful and I am his favorite piece of life to touch but the only time I feel any vibrancy of life is when he looks at me or when we're guiding Aurora.

Estrangement from society feels as if it's the only option to survive and avoid certain rape of that life. I don't struggle to enjoy and wholeheartedly trust God or myself anymore, but struggle to make amends and establish structure within a godless place, full of people lost in the fetters of temporal material and instant gratification. Some say I am just supposed to figure this out on my own, but sometimes I think that answer is a crock of shit, given by those who look the other way to my regression into a place from which there is no return. Maybe they look away because I make them uncomfortable, or maybe they look away so they don't have to acknowledge their involvement or admit there was a time they could have intervened to save me from myself. We've all felt the desperation in despondency and yet we are selfish in our compassion to extend empathy to those who cling to a fragile spark that refuses to be extinguished and yet lacks the wind to start a forest fire. Often all it takes are the warming words of a kind stranger, God speaks through such people in times of soaked and bloated pain.

In a world full of billions of people, why should we have to figure certain things out alone? Jesus had twelve disciples and the apex of the discrepancy arose as they began to branch off alone to teach their own interpretation of his meaning. Before drifting into isolation, Mary tried to convince the men that Jesus was appearing to her in her visions and dreams, but no one would listen to her, they cast her from the circle and she spent most of her years sequestered and weeping. Alone, alone, I damn the word to a lonely hell for all the images the bitter word "alone" erects in my ailing head. After all the lies and deception, the pursuit of truth yields nothing but more confusion and contempt, being alone could only lead to a messy suicide. I can't remain alone, yet I cannot rejoin a world whose sustenance consists of sweeping fear of swine flu, a corrupt government propelling social mischief and internal misdeeds further into our rotted core, and a judgmental upper class consisting of gas companies execs who ultimately run the government by way of generous campaign contributions, or even securing Cheney and company within top tears of power and control. I didn't come here to be another social security number filed under anyone's control, so of course, I am out of control. Fuck control and damn the people misuse it to suit their monetary corporate agenda. I renounce it all, none of those pompous dick wagging fools want to be a part of me mentally or spiritually anyway. What prudence still resides beyond the serenity of a dream? Without a bruised and discarded middle class, the world would cease to function and yet in spite of their persistence and determination to merely pay off a mortgage, they are trapped in a cycle that preys on their dreams of rising above limitations and do not reside in any dream house but rather fall on a doormat of mercy at the front door of banks and brokers. I have little desire to wake to such a place or succumb to being partial to anything except God, if he'll still have me after all of the times I have taken his name in vain; if only to curse myself and the mirage of a torn and bleeding environment.

I'm not a danger to myself or anyone else. The only danger would be in muting my apathy for anything apart from the truth and shielding the brutal nature of my captivity. There are basic comforts in self-imprisonment, being excommunicated from society can be like living in a sanctuary of angels if you fine tune your perception. I am acclimated to the silence found in this barren box. The silence of a mermaid's in a music box is a climate that sustains celestial rapture; a twirling grace, a spiraling tune that merges a restless soul with Christ in a place where dreams can breathe underwater like mermaids. Hallelujah!