pinky culmination of sophisticated love betrayal revenge plot

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blood

pinky culmination of sophisticated love betrayal revenge plot
– george l stein

submerged, cleansed, purged
every day brings a fresh coat of sin
and every night she strips again
the fragrant salts of purification

aware, thin inconsistent sounds in domicile halls
tracing intrusions through rice-paper walls
firm when firm is in need, then bending as a supple reed,
plasticine ronin; the characteristics of a favorite, rubber toy
breasts bouncing and basing in pirouette and pas de chat
the villains pull a punch or two for sake of plot

observe,
for Love conveys
in the subtlest ways
in the way she holds her generous sword
lifted from foe number two without betrayal of spoken word
she points her weapon toward the single path
to another heart wishing and wanting and waiting to bleed.
elbows and wrists straight. Erect and unblinking
confidence, focus, the hint of the beginnings of a smile
the flat of her steel at a parallel perfect to the earth’s horizon
ignoring the almost imperceptible curvature.
Is this the big finale or just another
development in a plot that’s been re-written, treated, and re-cut
pinky culmination of sophisticated love betrayal revenge plot
and she does o k

the music rises and the music swells. Thin, able fingers strike tubular bells
a coup de grace is an ending and a beginning to a sequel never to see the day
the sword descends through villain blood, flesh and bone
atrium and aorta, memory and substance.
in a freshly fallen snow, death is a but a burgundy, corn syrup flow
The innocence before the first soda was spilled
and continues on through the second and third row

now love betrays a sadness in the way she dangles her sword
after a red-tinged orgy of tempered, spattered blood
the emptiness that follows the offing of the last of ones clumsy foes
now who will damn her and stalk her,
pelt her wet and naked body with poorly aimed blows
the burden of being the siren queen of bleeding hearts

there will be a time
for harmony, warmth, and sweet resolution
for all the sadness and life’s-blood spilt
someday, it is said
but for now, perhaps, another warming bath
in the fragrant salts of purification

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butterfly dreams -final

 

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butterfly dreams

     – george l stein

 

for you and i, there will be a time

in full of sun and gentle wind

for there is a place for you and i

where, floating as clouds and spirits do

butterflies on a summer breeze

thoughts and dreams and playful ease

we transcend this skin and dance

only stars and insight and fireflies

colors flutter and vanish in moonless trance

shed past and present, disappear

all the crystal days we knew

when we were young and two was one

how you, a sight, in shadow and in sun

of a chiaroscuro resplendency

at last ascending, weightless and free,

all we ever wanted and wished

through all the stones and bricks we found

all the holes we trampled through

and the pain and tears we shared

somewhere just past this last intransigence

before the first of autumn breeze

was to transcend , fleeting

for there is such a place

and there was such a time

inevitable that, as summer does,

dreams end

 

butterfly dreams

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRe9RgwHYLk

butterfly dreams

for you and i, there will be a time

for there is a place for you and I

in full of sun and gentle wind

where, floating as clouds and spirits do

butterflies on a summer breeze

thoughts and dreams and playful ease

we transcend this skin and dance

only stars and insight and fireflies

colors appear and flutter in a moonless trance

shed past and present, disappear

all the crystal days we knew

when we were young and we were two

how you, a sight in shadow and in sun

of a chiaroscuro resplendency

finally, definitively weightless and free,

all we ever wanted and wished to do

through all the bricks and glass we found waiting

and all the holes and swamps we struggled through

all the pain and tears we met

somewhere just past this last intransigence

before the first of autumn breeze

was to transcend , fleeting

for there is such a place

and there was such a time

but summer and dreams do end

spiral

spiral

spiral

   – george l stein

 

spiral

 

pen touches paper, a spark lites in the darkness, then there is a first point.

no breadth, no depth, no measure of will

still… it is something from which to build

and the dot persists

 

short square feet backed right up against the tracks

defines the squalid solitude that no one chooses,

not to come, to live and to die here. In the turn of time

it chooses them and the rest simply follows on

 

logic and purpose become a study in dysfunction

as soon as the cards are re-shuffled and re-dealt.

There is a turn and a change of position

a point becomes a line and a line becomes a curve that goes round and round again.

 

now the land is bare where scant refuge stood, bare but for the weeds,

a pale, cheap wheat, a pleasing illusion to the eye but barren of sustenance

everything makes sense and no sense in some context

the trick is to find the frame.

 

A seamstress thinks of love and drops her pin

and in turn the thin facade of wholeness is pricked

a lucky stroke, or a tragic ending. Spin and position, perspective.

It depends on where one stands.

 

the journey, the stumble, the light and the loss

all that had come and that was to be

ambitions and expectations dashed and naught

nights of delusion and days of future past

 

when she reassembles the pieces just so

accounts for and adjusts the lights and shadows

she smiles and seeks approval for her efforts

but the simplest of glances betrays her

 

no one knew where the line started or ended

thought that their journey was theirs to steer

but time passed in an instant, one single revolution around a single point

the pen lifts from the paper, for better, for worse. the story is cast