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

Blooming

for my Purple Creature

Please, please, don’t think that
butterflies are silly with
a short memory

Please, please, don’t think that
they sit on this withered bush
without a purpose

No… They remember
its beauty. They remember
all colors and forms

How it bloomed before
a thunder-bolt that summer
Yes, they remember

They sit the same day
every year… it’s a present
The birthday present
The present from butterflies
for their depressed withered friend

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

Blame it on the Rainbow

You’re out for
a walk every day
buttoned from
throat to knees
the hood pulled over your head
Man-in-Heavy-Sheath

You’re untouched
by the Sun and rains
You’re sheltered
You’re secure
Nothing can hurt your soft pith
Man-in-Heavy-Sheath

But one day
one beautiful day
a strange rain
flecked your coat
You didn’t care, you were careless
Man-in-Heavy-Sheath

You got home
You hung your wet coat
on a hook
and you missed
shimmering rainbow spatters
on your heavy sheath

Next morning
you put on your coat
buttoned from
throat to knees
and went out into the street
Man-in-Heavy-Sheath

A few steps…
and… what the devil?
You felt how
the Sun heats
your back… Something strange happened
with your heavy sheath

You’re so scared
You run to your home
You should clean
You should wash
You can’t let the Sun disturb
your soft pith again

You can’t sleep
You have a nightmare
how you walk
stark naked
and the most horrible thing
that you feel happy

Next morning
you put on your coat
buttoned from
throat to knees
Oh, poor Man-in-Heavy-Sheath…
can’t you believe? Still?

Day-by-day
you pace the small room
Night-by-night
you don’t sleep
You must forget this feeling
You must recall it

You’re drained by
fright and exhaustion
You’re ready
to end this
You run through an open door
like a suicide

You come round
naked on the road
You feel how
the Sun strokes…
and the most horrible thing…
Hey! Say it out loud!

…I sit here
happy and guilty
Should I say
“I’m sorry”
for spattering you with love,
Man-lost-Heavy-Sheath?

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

Portage

A man sags shoulders.
He bears a void in his heart…
such a heavy load.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // A Prayer “Why” by Purple Creature

I am alone, in cruel world…
Wondering… is this for me?
I didn’t ask to be here, and yet I am…

Who would do this?
Make me…
It’s miraculous actually, if you were to look inside me
Dissect me, and see how my human body works…

With tiny fist in air, I shake it at God and demand…
WHY?
WHY make me, and then abandon me…
Alone, cold, hungry… thrown in a dumpster…
Left for garbage… human waste…

What kind of would God allow this?
Silence is all I hear with this question…
So my prayer is this, please let it end quick
Or answer me… I am a bastard, the lowest of low,
But even I deserve and an answer.
All powerful and mighty One…Why???

by PURPLE CREATURE
© All rights reserved 2015