In You I See Me, in Me I Experience You (Tells of the Two 2021)

Let me see my Self in your nakedness

The willingness to give yourself to me freely

In this I see my weakness to take

I take in tenderness with a heavy hand and firm choke

This you ask for

I only take that which I find special

My mistake to say the honest words of human emotion

confusing, messy, honest but convoluted

The mix of what I say what I don’t say what I hear is the language of two hearts colliding

The landscape I paint for you is a colorful watercolor of bile

This is because my human heart knows only confusion

My soul knows better but how can this be clear if you don’t know the language

still…I try

In my attempt to connect

My attempt to bare

In my attempt to be human I leave a mess on your pale skin

This is utterly confusing

There is much to hide in calm and quiet

I can paint any picture on this canvas

I can fool myself that I am navigating this boat

A simple boat just for two

Some how has space for three

In my attempt to be my honest self

I accidentally become your mirror

It was not me that I was taking to the shore but you Navigating to the place you wish to see

All along I was speaking for many

Crucifying myself with words of another

Owning what belongs to us and the other you pulled in

To make this make sense I added another

Never Realizing your painting you never showed was more vivid than mine

Your attempt to ask for more scrambled me to change my image

This lesson I did learn of the strength of my human intuition

I am fine with leaving it all alone and settling on mud delusions

In wounding my heart, in mending my heart I know my Self better

What can I say but thank you

For letting this immortal soul get a taste of being human

Tuesday Night Post # 2-23

Distant Strangers,

  Find it simple to let it pass through you.  Like a chill that you can't control but feels free and pleasurable.  Wild is a thought a irreplaceable fear of morning light.  What do I search for?  An empty space to stay.  That thought that reminds you what you once understood is actual something you never could. 

-DBL

*     *     *      *      *

 She Died Cold, I lived  Seeing Her Mold

(Stories of the Two)

A rising step from heel to toe

Keep this thought close around ample room

Deep in a place a light sequesters a hope to grow

Back when you found it hard to say

Everyone has their way to not to show

Now I get the hints reliving sounds eyes rising wheels turning

Sudden vision of you practicing your gifts

Maybe then I had no way had no help devils live in quiet

To really share manufactured hearts broken machine stuck to stare

Never new just confused often found

Sent away in hopes you would be around

In my heart never true

They tell us sacrifice the new

In a dream walking near

With those heels I never fear

Stretch the time of every night

Details never lost as we engage in this artificial recited flight

Words we choose always right hazy dream teasing me

As before I left you there quiet safe high above the stage of fear

Revisit that one place there you stand always full of grace

Safe to dance wild swing arms climb the vine

Chasing that thing you missed before chasing it just a kiss to adore

Breaking down expose the want finally you are content grab it tight

In this heart never true

Tell me to sacrifice the new

In this scene you walk near

With those heels I never fear

In that thought it was right adjusting for the windy sight

A shoulder pressed hard and strong on a wall of nether thought

Holding back the words guarding back the choice to break

An honest theft to not show you wrinkle you scold you

Had it all never needed to adjust the screw

Just pretend all is grey find it better than to stay clouds cover rancid mildew

Lets spend the moment that follows looking at the line of our dearest desires

A simple map of that stage we never cleared standing on the liquid grave of fear

Always moving always flowing always chases us to empty glory

At the bottom of the pool this rose bathed and pruned drowned of smoke and booze

In dark there is only nightmares but for me

There I find my curse I wrap around this cold fire choke in smoke

Drown your heart kill the true

Show me you sacrificed your new

In my vision you walked with me

In your heels you seemed free

Tuesday Night Post #2-20

Random Occurrences,

How exciting a change in tempo becomes.  Some fall to every beat, myself I search the next.  A fine line occurs between free spirit and reckless action.  To destroy this box I search for it.  In a room with no walls I will find it…until then let the choices fall in the order we have to choose.

 -DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Transposed from the Geometric

Left a temple to touch this foot

Seventh of the strand of this rope

He did see but once

An offer from this one of the other

From a position which she sat

Head tilled neck a sway

She smelled the flower that was not hers

In an image the back of a hand

Swam across the arch of this position

The eyes they tried but never wandered past

The hazel ones

Which were honest

Open with the pressure of neglect

She often seemed to belong to the company of herself

Everyone had a share of this impression sitting on a shelf

In the same room they dissolved into fluid smoke

Two colors of distinct

Sharing each a tail of discreet

In a small chamber of this draw
Few things hid

Two flew in the air of unnecessary thought

What is there but the next foot to drop

Tuesday Night Post #2-18

Pardon My Grace,

So, I shit these out every Tuesday.  You deserve more intent and at least a bit more gentlemanly attentiveness.   Now what is left is to hone the art of simmering the pot.  Cooking it at the right temp to see if there is some maturity in the words. 

In any case don’t hate my love song, so to speak.  It comes from places unknown that I seek and stumbled onto.  It’s not an excuse or an apology, no no, not at all.  They are just words that come before the ones below, like an excuse to engage you in a prolonged kiss.    

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Pearing Down to Geometry

(Stories of the Two)

I plan to see you through the end.

Even though these words you will find fitting but somewhat removed.

I speak in hopes of sharing what I have seen in precious moments of the obscure.

If I can, can I remove the Figure Square and the picture in which it was there?

De-flesh the souls that saw, retreat all that are an event with minimum draw.

Lines that intersect to a box

Four planes one of which we have the floor

This plane could be of future use

Altitude we will not share

Losing one, peer in there

A plane removed became the door

He entered

We see him now a ray that has only one direction

Back into itself

The dots that form the set that are in this box

Some of three

One of two

2 of one

Separate lines wind and wrap

The three in the box

The white landscape

Packaged well they won’t tell

From the space displaced went the ray that held the first unwind

To the area of the right triangle

She

Composed of intersecting planes

Each its own

Finding time, laying low

Tender moments left to show

Concentric circles that became his eyes

He had a glance

Even then he would not take that chance, but what he saw the Colors True.

They themselves list the shades he tried to hide.

In the honey brown he did not lose knowing there was interest, which he could not refuse.

Light brown segments made the flow, round the evidence of a wish he traced often.

Fleshy pink and purple nodes, a dense line that should be avoided, this is where a closer inspection finds repetition like before.

An arc that ends up a sweet gesture.

Congruent figures, a light brown section of orbs rolling to the lower quadrant.

Just the same he saw her change in his direction.

The helix that wrapped around her bare, fell to the plane that is now of use.

Two adjacent angles on a block, slowly flowing to a spot.

Can I leave it where we are? 

At this point, which I find fair left to unravel with only the two to share.  

Tuesday Night Post # 2-7

Ummm you are so salty,

     But you are my friend.  What is a friend, but a neighbor of occurrences and mutual acknowledgment?  Acknowledge my shortcomings since what you see is what I give you not who I am or what I will fool others to be.  I give you words just like others give you questions.  I have only what I find scattered around my feet.  These are thoughts dropped by this clumsy scribe. 

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Throw salt in the fire
(Stories of the Two)

This scene you remember rite

Placed in an open field

Empty space to fill with grace

On the last trip to find a truth

he wandered

Draped in a blanket white

A stumble and a fall in a pool

One half wet the other grabbing up

What he saw

A figure above

No choice left

this hand prevented this crawl

She had no voice

A relationship made in resistance

When hands pull and there is no reference

What direction is the question

Twisted and tied this union had no space

But to collide

Violent force that creates

This in turn would suffocate

In her pride she hid her strife

Backed off hands a square to another

This one a brick brother

Mired in a history of misogyny

He wears a jacket of fashionable truth

A black hat adorns this gospel

Unaware she follows

In one judgment she keeps herself shielded

In another she steps where he wants her

Maybe he is not aware

Maybe she is

He will take what makes her a mother

Gladly she gives what is not hers

Thinking what she needs is something

others wish they could recede

Now the new is the fools that follow

This path it corrupts the Youth

In his eyes what is needed

A simple joke

A friendly coax

Solidarity for the salt of this earth

For which they are thirsty

In unison they milk each other’s arrogance

Half Awake I Remember, Half Asleep it Makes Sense

My bed lies beneath a window in my room

In my box

There is no light that filters in

It’s much to early

The only thing that wakes me slowly

is the water

It throws itself on my glass

My eyes slowly open between a thought

One of sleeping and one of remembering

This I try to forget

Memory that I am

still here

Without the love

Without the past

Without the things I use to know

My feet have felt no warmth

to quicken

In this thought I fall

Back down to being insensible

In there it makes sense

Your form

Your figures

Your timeless companionships

Wetness on the glass

Reflects only what will last

I see you there

Never more closer

than when I never knew

what I know

of everlasting

never

I awake

Time has passed

My regret is that

what I knew I left

What you brought

I can never take

Tuesday Night Post # 2-1

Friends,

So here we are again

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

In This Action They Trans-versed What Already Was Rehearsed

(Stories of the Two)

Life is forgiving

This life forgetting the next

A chain of memories dissolving into self

Not paying for the scars

This one was for free

A devil gives only what is wealthy when it is lost

Turning pages in anticipation following you just to see

In that time I spent staring at a lovely space

My head held to low missing every beat

No sense in taking it all

I found myself waiting for the fall

In autumn time I avoided stepping on the leaves

While you dissolved in their misery

As we stumbled to meet in the middle

We ended up stepping on our feet

Every part I remember

Especially when I rubbed them free of soreness

Your transition was warranted

With this revolution I was left with defeat

Solo los quedamos con Dolores

Glimpses of the lovers in past lives

Of lovers in twisted embrace

Now on this cloud

A time line of encounters

A radiating spectrum flooding my consciousness

An awaking of the past

I can only make sense what weathers

This subliminal task

A body with its breath fingered though mine

Mutual termination with passion as a noose

Mended hands flowing away from the truth of the fire

A growing mound growing old and tangled

Enemies of the state finding

destruction in our hate

Individuals of influence dancing in a hall

Judging not

who we were

what we were

where we were

But living tall

Children touching

holding

sensing

questioning

A rock with its shadow

A rain fall on a meadow

The brightest one in which I saw you across the hall

One glimpse I knew I knew you then

Never again did I see you again

To make sure I had a chance

I replayed again

Far I am from the one I was

I can only recite what never was

With knowledge came a void

A void of miss-care and neglect

My rational mind becomes a holy reject

Tuesday Night Post #40

Readers

I am returning to the series “Stories of the Two”, I included a short one just to recap myself.
-DBL

* * * * *
Out This Chair

Out this chair
sticks two arms unadorned
Made of wood on end small hands peak
Held out in front reaching from the back of this chair
Held out in front of me
Wooden
Bare
In no resistance
This chair I think
My friend to seek
Sitting
holdin weight seems improbable
a hand shake stiff
familiar to my touch
options end in mystique
Stepping back making space for this interaction
Forward came the hands
Hitting the ground a finger splintered
To adjust this new change
A simple action complete
Three-strand rope finds its way
Circles just above the wrist
Even layered rest the rope in rolls of 4
If you ask I will speak
As it is I own this thought
Rise to its legs
The chair is held

* * * * *
The Return
(Stories of the Two)

An event not recorded but always remembered
Both left with a part they did not previously know
In his thoughts he tried to let go the things he did not own
In her action she tried to dispel the image that allowed her throne
The flesh remained in his heart the rest exchanged for the divine spark
She remained free to allow this cruel earth to destroy
What remained of this seraph on earth
A want to perish
A persistent love
A rope that ends
For her a new life that began

Now both at ends that differed from the beginning
They met
They embrace
They unified the actions that made them complete
As fire burns hot and energy is consumed there exist an exchange
If we remember that we wait for an outcome then it soon ends
If we feel that there is a process that is where it lives
In this story of the two the beauty was in the exchange
What remains to understand is the in-between

* * * * *
As a surprise I left her with a thought
And empty one that later fills
I find that when I try to find the end of a tangled rope
I must forget that there is a beginning
I slowly find the way
If I see that parts are undoing then I know I am on my way
If I stray and start to maneuver the other end confused
I don’t move
A change of thought
I know I dropped a few
Of the things I thought I carried well
As I age my arm degrade but my balance achieved
Time for me to remember myself and who I use to be

Tuesday Night Post #23

Lovers, 

Tuesday night, hope your night is well.  For the few that stumble onto this let me know your thoughts if you are not to shy.  In any case I welcome your eyes.  May we welcome what deserves attention but seems full of madness and let us reject what needs culling, these things that look so alluring.  Making perfect squares that have no corners let us make love to that part that is reason and make friends with what is intuition.  Intuition so often seen as wild at heart.  Yes, maybe but, the most wild beast have control and finesse.  Have you seen a bull in a china shop?

*     *     *     *     *

Spit and Thorns

(Stories of the Two)

With an excuse was my choice

To give u my voice

With a coffee in hand

I tried to make u my friend

In time I could not fight

The feeling that felt so right

In your presence I rode on your smile

In the abscess grew a child

A self-refection of the loves I formed

In hopes one would be adored

I made my love, a juvenile lust

Formed from dirt and rust

Now she’s old and grey

I hope she’ll stay

Always the angel rite

You kept your distance tight

I tried to spread your hand

Putting mine in the red

True you were never near

Enough to let this thought appear

I feed my love with simple hellos

Inviting all the woes

I made my love, the one with horns

Formed from spit and thorns

Now she’s old and frayed

I hope she’ll pray

A chance occurrence

Tested our endurance

As I sat in that room

I soon realized the electric cloud that loomed

An awaking that told me

You also wanted to hold me

Always the dark angel

Loving to endure

You made sure every second counted

Until you yourself could not doubt it

I made my love, the one so sweet

Formed from cold and heat

Now she’s pleasure and pain

I hope she’ll lose her distain

I stand on a log

Rolling, I on a jog

Holding something small in one hand

Something heavy in the other my head pouring like sand

She rides on my shoulders my lover lost

In the dreams, this was the cost

A fireball

Surged through me from the fall

Heaven sent to aid my rule

The self inside this mule

I made my love, the one I lost

Formed from our different parts

Now she is he and she

I hope she’ll become the three

In extremes we found

That love is profound

She left me light

Which emptied blight

Left me with knowledge that in that flash

Vivid and bright left a pile of ash

With two extremes

We find the beauty in between

I made my love, from a lifetime of loneliness

Formed from profanity and holiness

Now she’s horrid beauty

I hope she’s found a residence in human’s cruelty

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Tuesday Night Post #22

Vessels of Atrophy,

For once I am late.  On top of that this one I much enjoyed and just grew and grew.  I know it could be expanded but this Tuesday post exists not to be perfect but to create.    I much enjoy the "Stories of the Two" posts.  I hope you do too.

-DBL 

p.s. still in search of a trusty editer
 

*     *     *     *     * 

The Exchange

(Stories of the Two)

  

In their world to eat is to drink from the river

That flows from one to the other

Two magnets in an ocean afloat

On waters of growth and desire

Separated by strong currents

Violently drawn together by inner forces

Chaotic storms of light and shadow

Every encounter they find new corners in their minds

And

Old memories to guide this chance occurrence

Glimpses of One that existed once before

 Separated long ago

Their thoughts find a home in one another

Never straying too far

Two stars so close no thought can escape

Flairs ripping the skies

Falling with time to replicate

This is the exchange

Like heat flows to cool

His darkness empties into her

Pushing light directed to a void that is him

A strange feeling to her this want to hate

To mistrust

To crave destruction and revenge

A bitterness that sweeps the surface of her form

A form new and hungry for the unfamiliar

That bitterness that frees the earthly law of atrophy

To want to hoard in fear of time and its brevity

Positioning the self in hopes of ending on top

To respond with reaction

To see with her body

For him it is strange to see that in natural law

A release of evil can create brilliance

Clearing the clouds that fog the eye

Giving love without the fear of being destroyed

He sees the end as a cycle of this love

Not destruction

He finds strangeness in acting

Not as a reaction but as a direction

To care not because it affects him but because

It is what makes the cycle continue

To visualize this exchange one mustn’t see how

They engage

The way he looks from her eyes to her lips

To see the words leaving her mouth

Only to get lost in the loveliness of it

No this is not where it is

Or the way she catches this act

Which draws her closer

No

One mustn’t think its there

When they walk the streets

As she wraps her arms around one of his

Trying to absorb what she can from it

Contrary to what we know this is not it

Not even when he stops to gaze

At that brilliance he wants to understand

As she presses one hand on his chest

To see if it can penetrate his form

As he swiftly positions himself

Close

To take from the fountain

That is her welcoming mouth

Delving deeper

It could be easy to say the exchange

Comes when they lay bare and intimate

As they rest from the day

Him slowly

Tracing every curve of her figure

A delicate finger

Over her back

Down her spine

Round her hips

In between the thighs

Down

To her newly soiled feet

back

Up to her breast

A tender moment is spent here

An occasion for her to retrace the steps

To formulate the figure outside

Basking in the sensation

One of the few sensations that is purely pleasure

In this vessel type

A raw minded kind

Would place their bets on the exchange

That follows

A literal exchange

A visceral sight that we rely on to find a middle

Between the two

There is no separation

Here either

It is not the action of her holding him close

Past this moment

Contemplation the next motion 

Looking deep past the windows for a sign of consent

Holding him as she slides him inside

Turning inside out he finds

He is captured and released

The moments when they find

It difficult to locate their end or want to

This is not the exchange that is profound

A glimpse of it is there

The relinquishing of the self

In pleasure they leave marks in other circumstances

Would reflect devastation

The exchange of their body’s

The leaving of something of one another

Inside of each other

Moving as one

Motion that switches 

The leader soon

Becomes the follower

Symbols of it yes

A complexity of the dance

Gently brushed upon by these words

Exploring this exchange

Is the Story of the Two

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Tuesday Night Post #19

Wind Bags,

Studying with Hiroko Tamano in Berkeley has been a cosmic experience.  Lessons that have made me be aware of this sphere we spin on and the many forms humans can transmute into by inner want, not external forces.  Just one more reminder that the human experience is a rare experiance.

-DBL

*     *     *     *     *

Seed of Choice

(Stories of the Two)

Sunshine and a moonlit night all in one

A reminder that time is not real and rules destroy beauty

In his view she is his master

This inner growth through her skin expels

A sobering reproach

Proximity makes a touch even more inviting

Drowning in the fluid both find common ground

In secretly he burns the land for renewal and devilish destruction

In passing she finds cues in the footsteps

Rhythms of walks that signify an extension of this transformation

Two energy sources flooding the space

They try to defy their rules of disgrace

As he expands so does the darkness

As his inner light expands her darkness matures

As we study this corporal transformation

We witness integration

Their words become disjointed

Arms pulled every which way by the comic winds

Her present sense is of a needle and tread that cruises through

Her newly formed flesh

Now she is only connected to her past by strings above

Grounded by one below

A single string that she chose to sew

A symbol of her mortal self

 

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Tuesday Night Post #8

Expanding Field of Malignant Tumors,

With every loss there must be some found. With every negative account there is a positive one. So... where did our money go? Money made is some how lost. A ghost of bills light and easy to move. Move Where? A different course, a different country or a different time. Time was bought so we can be left confused. Turn it upside down then it goes down stream or upstream. Either way it goes to the top of everyone's mind out of sight at the right time. I am no Scientist but can you make energy out of nothing? Whats the law of thermal dynamics???

But this has nothing to do with this post.

-DBL

* * * * *


Reflections of the One (Stories of the Two)

I believe in phantoms. I've seen some with ugly long faces permanently in horror Others still and sunken reminders of the plague that can be a thought. One keeps me company. A creature similar to me, fallen off course, a start for chance encounters. As I walk, as I see, she becomes the template in which I measure the rest of material existence. The standard hair, the pretty dress The average pair of legs, Become a crumbly itchy projection from the outside world. Fleshy and materialized forms of earthly delusion. Into my minds eye it comes, destroyed by that which is occupied with, my dark angel. It seems as though this lovely ghost was made special for me To exist in my tarnished heart. To be looked for desperately in my sleeping life, and spiritually in my waking one. It is ironic that when I began to see the light it was partly blocked by this shadowed figure. An angel so disturbed, She finds a temperate climate in my darken soul. And angel so beautiful She brightens the same space. She is with me so often I could write stories of our voyages. I ride on her wings of sensual piety but the weight of us both keeps us on this middle earth. For now she tickles my perverted mind, but soothes it back to the surface. A relationship that is ephemeral because of the fact that we exist together, purely as converging paths of an instance. An instance that needs to be understood removed of judgment. Because this instance is our own she is willing to wrap her elusive self around me. Let us forget our role. Our birth and our death, Our creators and destroyers that make us of different substance. May my words be a testament to the possibilities of new rites.

This Bondage is not of marriage but of a three-legged union.

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Tuesday Night Post #7

Frontal Lobesers,
            Lets set some waves in motion.   You ever been part of a wave at an massive gathering?  I always find it more gratifying to see the wave then be part of them.  I am sure some love to be the first crest.  Its a feeling that if i would describe I would no doubt start a tangent about the urge we have to connect and flow into each other.  Maybe start to babble about the mirror of the natural world that is technology.  It is our play our way of digesting what is really happening,…maybe a different time.  

-DBL

 *     *     *

In Transition
(Stories of the Two)

A sudden blow to change the coarse vessel

Resumed the oath he once had lost
Engulfed in thought and growing moss
Lined up square on a triple cross

From above the corner came a floating figure

Seeing signs of times advance
Questions of the past romance
Finding freedom in his lance

View point scores a visual of her dirty soles

Figures fall with approach
In his mind he rides the coach
Way of life severely broached

Riding on wings of white shine black on her back

With passing situations
He opens up to varying positions
Trying not to make any deceptions

Moved by heavenly urges bored enough to touch with her toes

Making friends with the eagle
Trying not to feed the ego
He realizes he must let go

Sitting down at the level to eat with the folks with her fingers

Like a book taken off the shelf
Dusted off and full of health
Setting fire to himself

Gravity pulls the meal her essence has no longing use of legs

As time goes round and eventually continues
Things build on chance encounters
For both an evil end is nothing that matters 

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