Virgo candles

Neptune's Sky

Desperate to fly
I grow gills
dive into mystery
beyond thought or trepidation
Floating within the sea
bones of ancient mariners
cleverly collaged with living shells,
sparkling creatures,
sensual delight
Great ancestor Neptune's
flowing beard
paints heaven's landscape
coldest stars mapping constellations
transformed, animated, playful
I am flying

Folie à deux

Folie à deux
Me and you
In a world of two
Don't skip a beat
out on the street
in our nondiscreet
Folie à deux
Keep it clean
[Queen to Queen
You make a mean
Folie à deux]
I'm not fine
Sun don't shine
Unless you're mine
Folie à deux
Love that style
Hypnotic smile
Bewitched, beguiled
Folie à deux


Drunken Sailor

Getting to the source
Pumping the prime
Apprehending "Of course!"
Living outside of time
Exploring inner realms sublime
beyond question or balance
Fearing that I'm up to
the challenge
I may take this leap
wake from my sleep
break from my gilded cage
the excuse of my age
no longer strong enough
to make me behave
as society's slave


Riffs on a Theme

Watery affluence
unimpeded flow
to eventual fruitions downstream
Like stone soup
picking up valuable
bits and pieces
adhering into wealth
Casting nets for silver fish
Panning for nuggets
Leisurely sipping cool drinks
to the song of ocean waves
Open your veins unto the
ocean floor at midnight
drinking cool salty life
into your lungs
Who you ever were matters not
A creature of sea-change
swims apart

August 24, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon


Nightsong

Night dreamer
Night weaver
Night seeker
of what's hidden by day
Burning light persuades
I am the bearer of my name
broken under debt to
masters of the law and ledger
Broken under shame
Mask of tears shining
my disgrace
Harsh daylight has ceased
to be my friend, my confidant
Lonely, searching for my
rightful end, I find
dreamers of the night,
weavers playful, out of sight
of those who would condemn
this place of magick,
their self-selected spite,
self-fulfilling need
to define what may be
can't touch the power of night


Self-Indulgence

A born writer
(whether any good, another story)
I am definitely part of the clan,
of solitaries
exhibiting all the signs and symptoms,
including avoidance of any cure.
Don't cry for me.
I do it just fine, crystallized into words
Laugh!
My written reflections
reverberate life.

(c) August 30, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon


Dark and Stormy

Night and storm
Do we dread?
exult?
engage with fantasy?
Blowing into Louisiana
dark gulf legends
hungry ghosts
licking onto shore, howling
Sea reclaims land,
seeping semen into soggy
womb, engenders
Future crises, coming change
Halflings gleaming in
moonlight, peeking through
veiling black cloud formations
Portents scream, drowned
in thunder, raging sirocco
dust of desert sand
caught up in reverberating wind

(c) August 30, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon


Of an Age

Two old men
sitting under a banyan tree
talking of philosophy
their darkest nights, coldest days
Was Nietzsche right
did life amaze us
with strength and beauty?
Did we survive our trials
to be rewarded
in ways we could never find
without misfortune to guide
into a promised land?
Wondrous lovers in magical nights
of dream come true
Sons marching off to war,
a father's pride
That sickening loss and horror
when they died
Derision from socialites
on fallen streets, defeated
The dismal sight one becomes
when hope has fled
before and after
That haunting laughter
never ends
Though faith can be replaced
better friends may follow
true amends may allow
new visions to form
The nightmare, the storm
give way to rainbows once more.
Two old men,
weathered, withered, wise
Listen and learn
to the music in their eyes
to the gentle loving smile
echoing through visions
inscribed
upon the cave walls
of their minds.

(c) September 8, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon


Harvest

Mornings come later now
permeated with scent of harvest
green and red and the bright orange
of the Harvest Moon
Morning air, heavy with moisture
seeps through my pores
into my bones
I see ships sailing in rough sea
their fortune a deity's toss of dice,
or whim
ships laden with treasure
and sailors desperately loved
On a placid pond three ships sail
a fine sunny regatta
The deep decay of harvest
carries me home


Pre-Genesis

Before the Beginning
Before imagination,
sound or fury,
in a wraithlike pocket
outside of time and space
none to command
none to hinder
how does the spark ignite?
Spontaneous combustion?
Multiplicities of zeroes
encircling void
before chicken or egg or seed.
Was there a silent prophecy?
If the system is closed,
nothing created or destroyed,
where does it all come from?
How far can it expand?
If the system is open,
how far does it go?
If there is no system,
chaos endlessly realigning,
helpless to demand rule of law,
form but temporarily
delimiting substance,
no matter.
In our space and time
we play at definitions.
"In the Beginning . . .."
Words upon a screen,
analyzed
over millennia.

(c) September 5, 2008 Laurie Corzett/libramoon


Of the Day

In the beginning
Before the threads unfurled
for reassignment
Basic forces vied
in the throes of creation.
Telescoping backward
Watch the magic
explode
faery storms
vivid electric bursts
eternity singing in language
unfathomable.
Over vast aeons
threads weave into fabric
Recognizable forms
play out destinies.
In this great game of life
infinitely recombining
take pleasure in moments
tied in gaily colored threads
for remembrance.

(c) September 14, 2008