Chief of Angels

Written by moi and Devon Richards

Part I: (Me)

Who has the power to
withdraw him,
To dissolve his being,
and cast him as
The Prisoner of Memories?
His weeps,
his cries,
they Echo.
With his soul steaming,
he begins to ask himself:
what next?

Part II: (Devon)

He sobs because he is alone.
Harsh memories flood his brain like
high tide along the shore.
He cries because he is afraid.
Can't you hear his moans?
Won't you give this
solitary soul
company
on this Godforsaken
Beach of Memories?

Part III: (Me)

They named him Michael for a reason.
Not all empowered can hold back tears.
He possessed the internal knowledge
that no mortal
could ever suffice:
His heart was the sun.
He laid back,
and waiting with easy eyes,
I watched him drift off to sleep.

Part IV: (Devon)

His soul fluttered restlessly
for fear of dreams that offer no escapes.
He thrashes out
and his heart throbs.
He knows things that are not meant to be known.
His mind withheld all the secrets
he desired to put to rest.
His past mistakes were all that he could see:
There was no moving forward;
No going back.

The Sorcerer of Tranquility

Fifteen years,
fifteen
long,
dragging years
It took,
and is still taking
to appreciate,
to understand
Only a fragment of this seductive and
opaque feeling.
**To What sentimental value 
Do we obtain,
do we aspire
From searching for these treasures
that not even the most 
brilliant lovers
could find.
With diamonds dabbed
upon the ocean of our canvas,
You sit along, gazing,
searching,
wishing to find
The Heaven
of the world
we named
The Night Sky.
Yet you cannot comprehend the feeling.
When I sit alone,
I realize
I am not rused -
But I want what I cannot have:
this feeling the one we all long to know.
I want to capture it,
Seal it tight in a jar,
and inhale its magic.
I want it to race to my toes,
and tingle every section
of everything bone
Surrounding my spine.
Soon enough,
I start to believe:
Believe that it is possible
that this feeling is out there -
Lost,
Looking for an owner
so courageous,
who is and posseses such empowering love.
Here, I am able to open that jar,
taste that feeling,
and indulge in that
sweet Serenity.

**Has yet to be edited!

6 Feet Deep

When I die,
I want to be layed to rest in a casket.
I want to be burried deep
underground
so,
that the largest earthquake
would not shatter my bones:
where nothing could touch me.
I don't want to be burried to rot,
to be in so far that
I will decay.
I do not want worms to
infect my lifeless being.
I want to be drifted off,
into another world,
a new dimension,
where my hair
and my toenails will continue
to grow;
where I become revived,
where I become new again.

Purple-Faced Charlie

Have you taken a breath?
Lungs exposed to oxygen?
Your body's swollen.

Drifiting Away

When you're alone,
you begin to to realize yourself
on a whole different level.
You find out that you
are not who you think
is actually real.

You find things you never knew,
despite all the memories
pinned to your heart.
All the years you have
lived for, do not even
matter any more,
because honestly,
what does?

After a while your thoughts fade into
dreams and nobody knows what has
happened to you
and all those crazy thoughts,
scattered in that ol'
noggin of yours begin to bring sadness.

But we do know that you
keep believing they are real and
a whole new world comes into view
and it appears like everything
you've ever loved,
hoped,
kissed,
and known,
are diminishing right before your eyes.

Until then, just in that moment,
your mind takes you in,
sweeps you away,
and you're gone forever.

And then, just sitting there in your
own solemnity,
you question your being and your mind,
your heart and soul, and you ask yourself,
What comes next?

The pit of your stomach,
yes,
that's where your soul lies.
It's burried so deep,
no one can reach it,
except you.
You can control what goes on
behind closed doors,
and it the dark - yet,
You don't.
Why?
That spot in your stomach,
the very part that seeks
oxygen and sugar and blood,
it feeds off your every move.
It knows what you will do,
even before
it happens.
You're too easy.
Can you feel remorse as
it devours your love?
Can you feel hate as
it knaws at your innocence?
Living is death,
so why aren't you dead?

Life of an Electrical Toothbrush

As I walk past the bathroom,
something catches my
eye.
I liesurely walk back and
I see shadows.
They are little tiki men
lining the bathroom walls.
Figurines? No.
Statues? Maybe.
Shadows, to be precise.
Gazing at the wall
with their happy eyes,
I think to myself,
they must have a terrific life.
I bet they come out, when it's the
Darkest of night,
when everyone is asleep,
I bet they dance.
But they don't move their bodies
to rhythms just because.
They dance to be alive,
to feel
Happy.
With the moonlight creeping in,
I bet they are estactic.

Silence Piece

And the silence made my heart think twice before making a sound. I sat there, doing nothing but thinking. Endless trains of thoughs traveled through my mind and I wondered why everyone was panicking. I knew everything would be alright, yet somehow, my brain did not. The trains kept going now, faster and faster. My mind and my heart were arguing like a married couple, back and forth, side to side, pushing and shoving until, I, the child, the innocent child who was sitting there in complete darkness, could take no more and screamed, "SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP!" Within a second, a sterile silence glazed over the room and eyes, like wolves, stared at me like I was an animal, like I was the one to blame for all this madness. I don't know wwhy I yelled it, but I know it got them to hush their voices. I stared back at each and every one of them, and as our eyes met, a wall was built between us. I could only hear the incensed silence now, and I began to cry. Hot tears strolled casually down my face, onto my lips, and I could taste the ocean and I could feel burning sand under my feets and blisters forming and my hands beginning to ache, and I pleaded, "I'm sorry." And yet, no one moved and eyes were glued to my soggy face, and in this silent space of the moment I knew my life was coming to an end.

Spices

When your eyes shut tight,
Can you taste the bitter salt
in the water
of your tears
lingering,
down your face?

Can you smell the aroma
of peppers,
roasting on the grill?
Does it burn your nostrils?
You don't want it to stop though
because
it feels
So good.

Can you hear
the laughter that
Exuberates from that girl's voice?
Even in itself you can tell she longs
for love.
But why?
She is love.
She searches for something
she does not need when
it's right in
Her Heart.

Can you feel joy
and happiness from the children?
They have a vibe like no other.
They live care-free,
no worries,
but eventually it will all
spiral down the
Tub like their dirty water.

When you open your eyes,
do you see the place,
the same strange place,
Where you don't belong?
The one you
know,
but don't want to?
The place we call home?

For Megan (Observation Piece)

           There is a candle in her heart: a flame that grows bigger and bigger within time – one that never dies, even when rain pours from the sky. She reminds me of late summer nights, the kind where it begins to get cold, and all you want to do is just nestle up in a blanket and admire the stars. And as you admire them, you think to yourself, how did these diamonds end up scattered in our universe? It’s those types of questions that she reminds me of; those that make you think for long hours, and still never have an answer. We are separated by distance, but together by heart.

I long for the nights when we just stay up and talk about our childhood and summer and boys. But sometimes, sometimes I dread those nights. I don’t dread them because I am not in love, nor because I achieve little excitement, but I dread them because she cries. I dread them because every time she sheds a tear, I die a little on the inside. She is the toughest girl I will ever know. Yet I know her to be a sweet girl who doesn’t deserve all the hate towards her. But day after day after day, people feel the need to crush what little hope and happiness she has. In a sense, her life reminds me of a washing machine, one set to spin cycle. She waits the moment when the cool water will drown out her soft cries and pleas. She doesn’t try to fight it though; she doesn’t try to save herself because she knows it’s going to happen again and again and again. She has learned to adjust to its cruel and hurtful ways. She has learned that you can't fight fire with fire – it will only ignite it.

Despite the fact all the terrible things that flies her way, she is a child to me. She has yet to explore the world and discover its secrets. She is trapped inside of this wall she has built. It’s made of stone and marble and love and the color brown and salt from the ocean. But I know within time she will discover the path that awaits her.  She knows it is there, but she is afraid to cross it, to see what lurks on the other side. I will help her, guide her. In a way I feel I already have. I have taken her under my wing and she is blossoming into something spectacular.

When she wakes up in the morning, I wonder if she realizes how special she is and how graceful she loves another. She is my best friend, she is my hero.

Show me your thoughts,
your being.
Everything
You have ever known.
Let my body nestle
into
yours
and tell me,
show me, all the
secrets of existing!
We are one,
yet we are still
two.
Your heart is my guide.
Tell me,
What Is It Like To Feel Alive?
What is it like to have
the whole world
inside the crevices of your skin,
beneath your finger nails?
Does it scare you when your
life
flashes
before your eyes?
May I come in?
Teach me your ways,
You Are Perfection.

The Time at Night where We Never Rest (Haiku)

You're trying to rest.
Am I why your eyes won't close?
Am I your thoughts?

Mary the Great

Mary! I scream your name in my head.
My lips,
they try to move,
my mouth too,
Yet the only thing that escapes are
wings of silence.
I'm calling your name with
my heart.
Can you hear it Mary?
Can you?
It won't go away!
They won't go away!
Why, Mary,
why can't these things
leave
me alone;
Let Me Be!
Mary, I'm pleading!
Open the door, let
me in.
Please, Mary?

No Love 'Fur' You (Fifty-Five Fiction)

He jumped right off the bed, right in the middle of everything, and just took off! It was just like him – playing hard to get: swaggering whenever he walked, acting like he owned the whole place. She was so good to him, what did she do wrong? “Don’t go,” she begged, “come back Kitty!”

What a Shock (Fifty-Five Fiction)

Standing in the midst of the storm, they lock lips. Heavy drops fall from the sky, splashing their cheeks. With no umbrella to shield their love, they race to the nearest tree. The rain begins to get heavier and the trees can hear thunder all around. Within a matter of minutes, their love was struck.

A Past Life Lover by Ekiwah Adler-Belendez

Others saw your poison,

I tasted your honey.

You gave me sweet words to suck on,

I can taste them still

in the back of my mouth.

Others saw you as a gloomy mountain,

I saw green trails.

You gave my feet

an invitation to run!

Where others would see

your filth,

I would notice

the blue flower you held clenched in your hand.

Where others saw burning eyes,

I saw

                a smile,

                                                a question:

Do you dare come with me?

Where others saw incoherent words,

I saw rubies.

You transformed me

from one who watched

the fire to one that was fire itself.

Your words did not end

when you lay beneath the ground

for silence is a word.

I know even now

we are nearing each other

as a wave

inexorably

makes for the shore.