The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part B. Feabhra ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

Scylla Beach

∼ Part I ∼

It’s midday and there are anxious knocks at his front door.
He wonders if the neighbors’ friends got the wrong door.
Opening to see about the commotion,
Seems to only heighten his confusion.

Nothing is there. Nope.
Nothing is there.

At his back door he hears those knocks again.
He rushes through his home like a madman,
To open his back door hoping to see who’s knocking,
Again he sees nothing.

It’s like staring into a nebula of discombobulated shadows.
Back to his living room he goes, then finds a black unicorn, a purple owl, and two black crows.
Overwhelmed. The sight further rattles his compunction.
As they fuse together causing a huge static emersion.

His body wilts to the floor
And…

∼ Part II ∼

‘I told you, Clothra, owls can’t look like a bush of lilac!
See? What will we do with this unconscious sack?!
We should bring him to Emain Macha until Beltane
And I’m not going to get it in the neck again!’

‘Shut up, Sweeney! Give you a choice and you’ll paint black
Even a rainbow. It would be better if you stop to clack
Like a clocking hen and help me to bring him round…
Hey! You, twins! Hurry up! Are you too spellbound?!’

‘Clothra, don’t go playing the big boss!
Sweeney is right… you make too much of gloss!
We’re not buffoons… We’re… Oh! Did he open his eyes?
Hush! Hush, guys! Turn on the fireflies!’

The air is filled with a subtle glow
And…

∼ Part III ∼

His eyes. The color. Vacillates between black & violet
In a haze, volcanic echoes vibrate. Commanding him to fight…
Fight! Fight! Fight! Finger snaps, claps, and slapping wings
Bellows him to awaken with voices like un-Earthly beings.

He hears voices commanding him to come forth to receive his messages
A feeling as if his body is being bent into a set of strange corsages
He hears another set of voices, ‘Oh! Did he open his eyes?
Hush! Hush, guys! Turn on the fireflies!’

His visage of things seems blurred but are truly clear.
His mind again perambulates confusion and fear
As a hybrid bird stands before him speaking strange things,
Talking a language known and unknown, then odd names.

He surveys the room, their faces, and concludes there is no hostility here.
Soon enough he loosens up, wonders about message, curiosity wins here.
Wings extended, inviting him to take a seat. He does.

Their beak opens
And…

∼ Part IV ∼

…in the far country, where springs are crystalline,
Where trees are vibrant and women hiss like a feline,
At the world’s end where all must be as was foretold,
She embroiders a shroud with pearls and gold.

A needle pricks,
A horologe ticks…

She whispers prayers mixed up with ribald couplets
About kings’ weaknesses and queens’ merits,
She sips thick gin, wiping her mouth on the sleeve.
Intricate patterns on white samite interweave.

Beltane is soon. She looks at the dark sky.
A lone star gleams like a tiny firefly.
Elatha… She bites through a gold thread
And limply drops her body into bed.

A horologe ticks,
A door latch clicks…
Hush, guys! No monkey tricks!
Please, let her sleep!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

 

P.S. Happy Birthday, Greg!

 

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part A. Eanáir ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

Guys, do you remember Elatha Jarlath McGhille? No? Okay! Don’t sweat it!

The most important thing is that you remember Gregory. His blog, cocktailmolly, supports independent artists, writers, poets… Greg pushes up young talents and does his best for every new voice so that they can be heard. But not many people know that Greg is a brilliant poet himself. Yes, he is! You can believe word. (No? You can’t believe me? You can check cocktailmolly to make sure that I’m not a liar!)

I’m lucky because I enjoy the privilege not only of reading Greg’s stunning works but collaborating with Greg! So, it’s the next part of our saga The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille‘. Ladies and Gentlemen! Take your plaids and thermoses! Today is pretty chilly…

raaf_home

This story starts where other stories end.
It was just another boring weekend.
Under the black sky and moon glow
Peering from the apartment window
My eyes. Frustrated still waters percolating wonder
At walking chimes seeking permission to ring louder.
Next Christmas passed by like a commuter train
and Santa ignored my letters again.
I write on the frozen glass ‘Nevermore’…
It’s nearly dawning. The chimes struck four.
Causing a celebration for equanimity.
A new year and no one hears me.
Within itself exploding volcanoes that will force more to grow.
To ring louder & louder as a thunderous burst causes a show.
That fire in the sky is our voices.
Debating the ideas running from sheep & the mischief of Corvus.
Will timelessness stretch out to the crack of doom?
My stagnant mind returns to my airless room.
Old musty wallpapers with whitish spots
from removed portraits… it makes no odds.
I never loved their histrionic look…
I look up at the ceiling with an empty hook.
That is used to grab hold
At the edge of an opening crack shaded gold
Stretched until it’s a spinning hole.
Full of cosmic colors. My dreaming’s out of control,
As the cosmic color filling oozes onto my bed
Taking shapes like the human body, lying next to me, it said
Something about splashes of inspirational kisses,
Sunshine smiles and enlightened darkness going for miles.

…the sky removes a black dress with starry cufflinks
and wraps itself in a pink peignoir… My egregore winks.
‘Elatha, we waited a long time for you. Let’s go!
It’s time to meet with your replicas and talk to your echo.
It’s time to learn who you are and what your real telos is…
Well… are you ready to stop your watches?’
Stop. Everything stops.
His story revealed. A soulful blues.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part 0. Prologue ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

I love collaborations.
I do love collaborations.

LOL! Deja vu, yes?

Well, guys, I know, the less I write, the less mistakes I make. I just want to say that I’m happy to show you my second collaboration with Greg. No, I haven’t learnt more about Greg during the last month. The color of his eyes and his blood type stay a big mystery for me still. And his zodiac sign too But, do you know, I don’t care! His sparkling talent and his twisted imagination are enough for me. Just relax… take it easy… and have great fun with us!

 

celtic arm band tat tattoo 02

he was taught to do multitude ingenious things
carving fine soap bubbles and beading tissue wings
…an inevitable interruption of such teachings
midnight phantasmagoria, suspected visions

as barking wings crawl along his wall as shadows.
fright? no. impressed… then comes the invitations –
join to the Halloween party in the gingerbread house!
guest stars are Koschei the Immortal and Mickey Mouse!

no. impressed… he throws the flier into the bin
and greets an old banshee, sipping acrid gin
“Aha! Haha!” she yells then claps her hands
a moment of mental illumination perhaps. She stands

then begins to sing songs off and on key surprisingly
Rock&Roll-Old Soul-R&B… then empties her bags for him to see
an “A-minor” whistle, two vials with scalding tears, false nails,
a half-finished piece of knitting, a book with Celtic fairy tales…

“Where are my glasses?” “On your head… shoo!” (the barking wings
try to filch a clew from the bag) “Shoo!! I’ll clip your hamstrings!”
She clips at the air with her scissors,
like a pair of hand hedge trimmers,

“WTF!” yelled the barking wing
Her response, “You’re gonna have ta learn ta respect somethin.”
He laughs up his sleeve at this innocent bustle
they adore each other, it’s a friendly hustle…

“Hey, guys!” And all of a sudden… a picture becomes indistinct…
White coats… and an agitated voice, “Fetch a doctor! He winked!”
Alarms sound. Kisses in stitches on rolling stretchers. She stares.
Returns wink and smile. “Tell ’em don’t mess up my hair.”

…this case was unique, doctors couldn’t understand
why this young guy doesn’t want to leave his dreamland.
This old harridan is a fatal case, yes, but this boy…
His coma seems so artificial. It looks like a ploy!

He just doesn’t want to live… and his happy pale face looks uncanny.
A medical ventilator is switched on. “Hey! I’m home, granny!”
With a crooked smile, a grimace, a hug and a kiss
She says to him, “Finally an end to all of this.”

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015