K R A V E N
Somewhere is your heart.
Memories of you
play like a symphony in my head,
as I dream away on a stream
flowing down my bed.
The river wasn’t turned enough,
to ferry me back to your heart,
so I float along, all alone.
The warmth of your glow gone cold to the touch and dark
Singing a hollow song,
beating my tired and broken drum.
Wondering why you’re not safe where we belong.
I don’t know where the water will carry me,
but I imagine somewhere, there’s another shore awaiting me.
Where I won’t be left to drift so aimlessly,
drowning in a flood I poured from misery.
For now I’ll keep hold of our shipwreck,
The sweet romance under her twinkling lights, I’ll never forget.
If I sail away to heaven under the moon and stars,
in another world, a pause in time,
adrift here in the seabed,
Surely I’ll make it somewhere,
‘cause, out there,
somewhere is your heart.
K R A V E N
Tomorrow
I know you’re watching from out there
I can see your distant face
I know our hearts are one
Yet lie on different planes
I know you are right
and you know you’re wrong
And maybe (one hopes) time will bring us
right back where we belong
But a war that brutally ends
allows peace to begin
and as we each span the globe
No matter in which direction we go
I’ll return to you, you know
And you’ll circle back round to me
Sure, it won’t be on this day, and this time
but maybe sometime tomorrow.
K R A \ V E N
The Aquarian Gift
This object my heart,
must duly express,
Confession:
longing deeply for a brilliant constellation,
the divine mistress.
Humbly behind someone’s else
when he should be written in the stars ahead
Believing he’s my second prize,
when he’s the gift I’ve always wanted instead.
You’ve stolen everything else, so can I have just this one thing?
K R A \ V E N
peace a greater ally than war,
because each time you show up with open arms,
you leave with my heart on your sword.
K R A \ V E N
O Fortuna, the Fortune Teller
Well, my darling,
while other pretty people just like you and I
dined on gossip and tea
nipping and tucking their way to you-name-it brands of luxurious misery
spending balmy summer evenings drowning in pools of the finest cheap wine
oh, society’s extravagant dance for acceptance
the ritual wasting of more time
dishing in pornographic detail their various exploits, positions and aches
Fairytales of a peculiar or plain bizarre state
where damsels bare their souls and delicate bodies
for just about any ol’ drunken and smooth-talkin shipmate;
while they enshrined the marks in ink of a thousand wild nights running late
drenched in the fuel of passionate — or so they liked to imagine — love-making,
I bathed alone in the river of my tears
succumbed to each and every hidden weakness
reduced to a ‘gorgeous’ and pronounced compilation of every doubt and fear
My dark skin glowing bright with bruises
cloaking a framework plagued by fractures and sprains
a lithe young body that flinched at even the faintest scent of rain.
Holding on to another man
however deserving, charming, and humble
quite an extraordinary experience that became
another exhausting struggle it seemed
completely and unforgivingly bittersweet
like a dream right in your view yet just out of reach.
How do you tell another that it hurts to be within his gentle embrace,
his beating chest quaking against my swollen ribcage,
when he’s the kindest creature your frozen heart may ever meet?
How do I tell him that his natural force brings a chilling, suffocating pain,
that even in all my strength,
I could not, in that time, learn to fight and slay?
Forced to accept the lofty dungeon tower of a ‘perfect engagement gifted by the gods themselves’
or a life scorned as the ‘different’ and ‘lonely’ girl wandering some material world
unsheltered and unclothed in violent and menacing weather,
which may or may not be any better,
I traded in their sacred crown with my handsome icon
and dressed to the nines in all their scarlet letters,
eliminated the brutal strikes to my head when I looked in these very cards, and read.
‘O, Fortuna, the lonely and evil Fortune Teller’ they all said.
Now? Success.
But I digress.
Nevertheless, I’m not sure what is most tragic for you,
little girl,
just as you are probably unsure of which part you are playing in the great game
But I believe you now know the answer to your grave dilemma,
my lovely friend,
listen to Fortuna:
Which destroys the most?
a broken dream and social puppet that can be mended and fashioned all over again
or broken bones and puddles of tears
shreds of your butchered mind, body, and soul
leaving a trail of your dread and despair, my dear?
…This is what the cards say to you,
Do as Fortuna tells you to.
…No, honestly, it was my pleasure; cash only, my beloved
…Sincerest wishes to you.
Chalk Board theme
