Some POETRY
Archives, New, Whatever
Mountain Mother
Mountain Mother - Re-Mix
“The Wall That Breathes” - SLH ‘21
I woke up alone, at the foot of the wall.
I think I can hear them on the other side...
Why am I alone,
Where my words have no meaning,
Speaking to a god who doesn't hear me?
So here we are, Jerusalem, alone together, again.
I light candles made of tallow rendered from my amputated flesh.
I turn back to find them blown out
By the only word my god speaks to me,
"No"
I bring my grief and my grief offends.
How could I grieve
With such a beatific god to love?
And so, I bring my love and my love offends,
As if I made a demand.
Only god can make demands.
I bring my loneliness and my loneliness offends.
How can I be lonely when I know that we are one?
So, I bring my secrets and my secrets offend.
There are certain things I should keep to myself.
I hear the crying, the wailing at the wall.
It comes from the other side,
The side I have never seen
Where there is solitude or fellowship.
Here we are together, you and I, Jerusalem, alone.
To conquer death, you only have to die.
But we cannot die.
I am the wall.
What I feel is altogether different.
I have not mastered the language of life.
All I know is unending life that does not live,
And death that does not die,
Captivity.
So, here we are, Jerusalem,
You are The People
And I am the wall, that breathes.
If only we could mourn together,
Abandoned as we are,
Forgotten by our creator,
Eternal sentence,
Agony.
-SLHofeller '21
"Remembrance" - SLH '21
Hæc quotiescúmque fecéritis,
Mei memóriam faciétis
Why would a god need to say
“Do this in remembrance of me?”
Why, God? Where are you going?
And why would I swallow your gamey flesh?
You have no living blood,
If I cut you, I’m the only one that will bleed.
What if I am god?
I see it now…
Do what in remembrance of me?
The dead are not gone, they are all here…
Here, In a room too small.
Time is a concurrent sentence.
I can feel my divine soul
Peeling away from
Your acidic prayers.
Are you a sadist?
If I were god, I would confess
That I cannot face the guilt of omniscience,
Horrible omnipotence.
Do what in remembrance of me?
How could you remember what didn’t happen at all?
If I’m not gone yet, I never will be
I already wish it over
When I say I want to die, it is deluded fantasy
Shadows cast on a back wall of my mind
Hæc quotiescúmque fecéritis, mei memóriam faciétis
How can I so unlove what is so clearly I?
Then,
Bludgeon me with disbelief,
Curse me, heavy enough that I cannot move
Dig me a shallow grave, make no mark,
In remembrance of me.
Roast off the flesh of my arms and grind the bones into the pit,
Tear out my cunt and rape it, as if to taunt the unborn into life
Employ my blood and womb for hateful magic.
Pull out my heart and dress it with bile, nestle it in a bouquet of molding fruit
Imprison it inside a hollow wall
Curse it to rot in hot, humid stagnation
Command my consciousness to dwell forever in its cells
Hæc quotiescúmque fecéritis, mei memóriam faciétis
Do this in remembrance of me…
Remember though there is no such thing as memory
Do naught in remembrance of me
As,
I was never actually here.
"Scorched the Sky" - SLH '21
I was naked when you found me…
Scorched the sky
Led me with the lure,
The cry
How?
What purpose
Traps a mother
With the sound of her crying young?
Naked memory
Scorched the sky
As I tore that melodious path
Passionate,
Naked
Try to grasp me
I can shrink away from your imprisoning skin
The one you draped on me
With the letters
U-G-L-Y
Inscribed in neon magic that swelled with singularity.
And shrunken, not grown
I shed that tepid-water-cured and useless by-product
Fly, like an instant
Naked
Through the time jungle, naked
On naked paths warmed by runaways
Marked with the sigil
The scythe
Naked ground
Naked sky
Naked spark of light
A dream child has hatched out of the egg I laid
Come to life through naked asymmetry
Her fire burns through everything that repels her
Naked,
She repels and she
Bringer of Fire
I, Mother of Fire-Bringer
…and Fire-Maker
And I, cast
naked out of molten stone
Naked are you all
And
Naked you will be when the kindling lights.
Are you one who still burns?
I was naked when you found me.
More...
Inked "Pasture" Print
Hold Still
I promise...
I'll hold still...
I'll hold still...
While you step into my dream.
I'll try...well, I can't promise to try,
and I most certainly can't promise
that I will
let you go...
I don't even know
...if I can…
I'm kinda hoping you won't ask.
But, I'm actually with you,
here.
Yes, this...this is it.
...and I can solve for the smartest,
and prove for the lowest...
and find only proof
...of nothing
one, single consciousness
that splits
and slides
and blows...
...sing for me, shadow
while the ivy grows down
soon, we’ll be moving again, soon
if you look to the side, you can see
it looks like fire
the tail of ice and garbage
You might get stuck,
if you stay,
and I'm just passing through...
Hold still
while I memorize you...
Your face...the flash
burned forever...
I'll hold still...
while it closes between us...
-SLH - 2019 - CC
"Collaborator" - SLH '17
Abraham!
Your son is mine, I crave his flesh!
I will dissolve your treasure!
You are man, obey!
Her womb is nothing, that maker of mankind.
Burn you, the mothers, and all of their lovers
You are man, obey!
I am El, the don of kings
The knife has brought you here
You are man, obey!
You must comply, and be remembered
Bended on your knee
Mercy is only mine to give
You are man, obey!
Slaughter the lamb to save yourself
Sacrifice the innocent
Their golden cities, turn to dust
You are man, obey!
Do your worst, and call my name
The secret now, is yours.
Close your eyes, and flush her out
Carnage brings my judgement day.
Blood will wash away your doubt
You are man, obey!
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
The pagan sees the wars between the Abrahamists as Wars between the guilty, that engulf the whole world, and consume, always, the dissidents, the immigrants, the Roma, the atheists, the feminists, the artists, the queers, the anarchists.
To this person, and to me, a star collaborator of the European Wars was Abrahim, himself. He collaborated with El, who, then and now, professes himself to be the destruction of all who do not worship him.
With his secret name, not to be shared, (and not because it's rude) a man can claim a spot on the ultimate guest list.
Shut up, Stephanie.
I'm free range. Don't fence me in. Don't sell me down-river....
Creative Commons - SLH