ST131 ... i slapped my mind across the stage
Emily was part Cree of the highlands above Lake Superior.
I slapped my mind across the stage too often. I feel the pressure building up, falling apart, coming and going like a fragment of time escaping from streets of modernity. I know it is risky exposing the self along these walls of digital madness. From fake tattoos to lips, poetry and love the surface is sometimes so obscene you just want to hide, somewhere, anywhere, drink, drug yourself; some can't get enough abuse, tearing their hearts hard from the core of their minds, poisoned cells bleeding their brains. Modern masses on a platform slaughtered from the inside out slowly turning into metal and plastic.
I see the beauty of the sea caressing my soul amidst the digital waves of destruction surrounding. So i walk on like a wounded winged one flying into pure faith. He was alone strolling the sea side along the sands of endless air blowing in a cool breeze from the depths of a dark blue water. He noticed a figure in the distance emanating a flowing caricature against the shore line. As he approached closer, Manuel could see she was glowing with a windswept multi-hued gown of silent silk flowing of a tender breeze. 'Buenas tardes' he said, as she approached, she smiled.
The waves continued to slash the sands and the rays of sun shone heat smooth across the spirit of the atmosphere. They walked and talked and became friends over the days ahead, lovers with out the touch of skin.
Emily was part Cree of the highlands above Lake Superior. She grew up in a 'little Italy' of Toronto. Followed a red road most of her life. 'When you follow your heart', she said, 'it never gets easier, it always gets harder, but it does get better', a cree elder taught her that, but she walked the talk.
He knew that too, but often fell. 'The deeper you go the more difficult the path, decisions dark against a wall of pleasure, happiness on trial for your soul' she whispered in his ear, once, along the shores of a mexican pacific.
Their time together lasted a few sacred soft weeks. From the turmoil in the world, the changing horizons of hope, the fake new tools of trans-realities, they walked their minds over the valleys and mountains of an inner terrain laid out in peace.
She left one night in the middle of a long releasing of dreams ready to dissolve themselves along the coast of many faces. Manuel found traces of her in the winds of tomorrow but kept true to his word, that word that flies beyond itself…. faith embedded in the red-blood of the heart.
Emily was sweet, like the taste of mango, she spoke in melodic words dancing across the air between, like a fragrance of miraculous dream. 'She entered a dream one night when i was struggling against the winds of a one world order strangling my soul in a mid night lucid state. The people were all caught-up in a hypnotized mood, indoctrinated to the point of robotic-insanity, clear and simple; detain, kill anything that is antagonistic towards the regime, a 1984-like scenario. I was being chased, evil everywhere, no friends, no way of escape, city streets made of fear, a crushed neon world laid out along wet black tar of a rainy gloomy night in some american-like city. Emily appeared in the middle of an ambush, rushed towards me and put the palm of her hand to the middle of my forehead.'
The next thing he remembered they were walking along the coast of warm sands with a cool breeze talking about simple things as in the moment they met.
A circle of time, a vortex of moments with but a glimpse of memory exposing a reality, a déjà vu. She left that night in the middle of a long releasing of dreams ready to dissolve themselves along the coast of many faces. Manuel found traces of her in the winds of tomorrow but kept true to his word, that word that flies beyond itself…. a silent faith embedded in the red-cloth of the heart.
Weyword Times is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support this work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
A OneTime Contribution coffee !
I appreciate your readership! This is my way of caressing thought. If you are amused/inspired reading these words and eyeing my images, please support my work, pass it on, comment.
I thank you.
Buy - Images
Share - WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey