Skydark

The clouds painted with hints of heaven cast deep, sinister shadows on the beating surf below, slapping at the rocks with the aquatic wrath of a god. The soft arms of nirvana, where glinting gates of gold peep out, allow the Sky god to offer himself as a host, and to dramatize the celestial love from above. The ridges of the nebulae turn from blue to pink as the Sun closes her weary eyes and drifts along to the edge of darkness, shepherding oranges and reds into her sacred field of sleep.

 As my dark pools are torn from the fantastic realm above, I see fields of rusted fronds fluttering in the wind. Strands of cobwebbed hair determined to distract my vision cannot mar this delight: the silver spray from the waves; the pink bonfire of beaming divinity; the teasing light from across the bay. The latter entices my interests with its bitter brightness – a sparkling jewel amongst the lurid colours of sunset. My heart urges me to edge nearer to this furtive radiance and so my legs amble over rocks encrusted with crackling salt crystals, and spiked grasses bleached blue by the Earth’s malice, until the night engulfs my clouded mind and the swirls hanging above.

Chills lace my body as dribbles of icy water seep into my sink; the light draws me closer still. I find myself at the end of the shore.

Before me – nothing but the dark perils of a wintry sea, behind me – the echoes of rusted tufts of deathly shrubs, melting and fragmenting into the curling wind. Below, the hungry waves kiss my feet, waiting for the final plunge; above, the light screams for me, bellowing my name.

The yellow glare penetrates my shivering bones, extracting my soul, my will. So brilliant, so intense – I must join you at the core. My essence, slipped from my hollow shell skips from the shore onto each swirling wave, like the gold flecks from the fountain above, dancing in the bubbling sea.

*

Closer and closer our hearts collide. I release a howl, you discharge a sigh. The rain ceases; the wind croaks; our spirit surges; we are one.

Copyright © JRFB 2012 

The Storm

Your words unspoken have drained
me - soaked me
with remorse and hatred of
those things left to melt away;
fade; drip; through a meaningless
pool of regret.

Seeing into your soul so clearly -a tumultuous river
relentlessly blaming its watery veins - striving to be understood -
appreciated - loved -

My heart quakes. My petrified soul allegedly withstood the pain;
now
the sharp pangs of Chaos pulsate through my mind
torn, ripping,
extracting
every detail - into the maelstrom unleashed.

Distress is my companion -
Anarchy, my aid -

You, however remain
a dull cave
                   of guilt:
Strangely, the artery proceeding

my dying    soul is here; etched,  carved in
lies
within You, my Saviour.



Copyright © JRFB 2012

Rouge

I gaze at the fruit as she pulls at its soft skin, tearing it with her teeth which appear to glow a luminous white in contrast to the unforgettable bright reds and oranges as they ooze out.

What was once a pristine, spherical lump of softness is now a misshapen, ugly, mangled mess. She sucks at it - the innards being absorbed from one organism into another. But no matter how natural the process, this image before my eyes disturbs me. For nothing so lovely should be treated in such a dishonourable way. The fruit, (barely recognisable) seems to bleed small fragments of life in its desperate attempt not to prolong its own, but to begin the life of others. Only one escapes, as it glides down the chin of the oppressor, in one long slippery movement.

The others were not so lucky.

The fruit breathes its last breath and collapses in on itself, exhaling a sigh as juices protrude - from ripe, tender skin to a wrinkled, shrivelled husk; thus mirroring the lives of our own species. It is a very strange spectre; like watching a plump, new born baby with skin as soft and smooth as a pearl of the sea suddenly merge into the archaic, crippled old man it is destined to become after a lifetime of memories, wither away into the darkness from whence it came.

*

It no longer resists. The oppressor has won and celebratorily wipes her mouth with a handkerchief of the same white as her teeth. Horrified, she is taken aback when she catches sight of a dark red, clotting like blood as it seeps into the open pores of the handkerchief; the blood of her victim.

As she frantically rushes to the nearest pale of water, to inspect the damage done to her mouth - where the danger had begun - the one and only spawn of life from the fruit lies still on the damp earth. Silent; waiting. Waiting for Light to come, to appear from hiding and nurture its growth. The girl screams with hysteria as her blood-shot eyes spark after fearfully gazing at her mouth in the pale.

Dripping with cold, dark, sparkling blood, its smell is repulsive - like decrepit jagged metal rusting on the side of a deserted road. Although no one is around, the smell lingers, adding a weight to the air, hoping to intoxicate the next living man, woman, child, or fruit that has the misfortune to come across it.

The seed of life listens, but does no hear; it breathes but does not inhale; it grows, it flourishes, it lives. For it comes - even the darkness and dreariness of the commotion and horror cannot obstruct the pureness of nature's gift to our troubled world: Light.

Comforted by the warmth of Light, as if by instinct, the seed of Life stretches its roots down passed the screams of death and into the cool earth, embracing a chance for new life to begin.

The sounds of the girl are lost. Only nature can be heard now. The inculpable, pure shoots sprout from the spawn of the fruit, slowly curling and uncurling in euphoric replenishment. Energy is re-released back into the soil, the earth quivers with excitement as it soaks up the new Life. 

Much time may pass, yet still in the garden of men, although nature seems to be lost, the strong, tall steams; the broad thick leaves; the glorious, ripe red fruits all remain on the tomato plant - spawned from death. And not a single fruit from this plant of righteousness is to be harmed.

Copyright © JRFB 2012