Caveats: #1 Thank you dear anonymous+ for the encouragement. These never would have seen the light of day till I got back to a project over 15 years old (i.e. Never.) #2 You find in portion of the writing, a woman is the focus. In no way interpret this as lesbianism. After a series of classes in college and reading elsewhere I became fascinated with the ancient practice of Courtly Love. (I still do not have a solid hold on it) In any case I wrote from the viewpoint of a knight before he left for the battle fronts during a Crusade. His confusion to bear children by love or staying true to his love and obligations to Christ are a internal war I explore in other writings as well. Meanwhile several bodiless characters develop that need to be fleshed out for later. Meanwhile I feel like O’Keefe battling Stiegliz over his interpretation of her flowers as overtly sexual. For sure, all art is not all pornography. Lastly, I’ve got several more editing passes to make till I’m through. I prefer to wait till the last to post again. Ah, Yes! All hail the process.
#1
My blessed blessed,
Come to me tonight
with larkspur trailing in your hair
and the song that dwells in the caverns of your anchored breast.
Let us reap the pleasures of
conversation, glimpse the wan flesh of
an earlobe, and the drawn line circling your wrist.
#2
Of the speech on my lips
is the prayer of anger gone?
Voices bellow in low toned melody from minarets
That seems laden with sand and silt from the rivers
and dungeon pits across the Southern banks.
#3
I repent for days of joy.
I repent for the eye that is fooled.
I repent for respect falsely contributed.
I bow to that which is greater.
I forsake that which grieves.
I pass on so that none may forget.
I live so that our days may be done.
#4
Even if he hates, forsakes, and does not live
in grace,
you must take up for him.
Even as the gods finally forsake him, as they
leaven anger, spite, and drool committing to their own devices.
Cursed be flesh upon flesh upon lie upon depressed mind.
Even then you must aid and forgive him.
#5
Let my shadow follow you son till the journey night breaks.
Let nothing foul,
Let no carrion fall in our wake
Let my shadow fall upon you son
And let no buzzard mistake you for slake.
#6
We implore the great god of mysteries
Who is a wellspring font buried below water rock hewn pools and slate.
We beseech this one wish:
That we may enter the hearts of men
To find those challenged at heart
and striving in weakness to blood, bone, and temple honed,
Searching for kindness
in raw form, cherishing all divine and pleasing to your senses.
Let us find in these hearts of men, women, child, and being;
Honor, faith, and courage imbedded in and of the flesh.
#7
Considering the life of a flasher: one must question his motivation. One must try to see his point of view. For if there is that much eroticism in the world, shouldn’t we all take part?
#8
At night the drum beat low and the only other man slept in shifts. Then Bartholomew would prattle on about the beauty of Africa, the women, the lush greenery, and the lands
#9
Open’s a house
Two’s a mouse
Three’s a “How do you do?”
4s a mole
5 ever more
when owned what do you do?
One’s a house
Twos a mouse
3s a “how do you do?”
5s heaven then
6 Please and thank you
1s a house
2s a mouse
3s heaven sent
If we go to Devonshire all our money’s spent,
Rolling on the ground, making angels as we go.
Getting crazy stares from traveller’s shouting,
“You’re supposed to do that in snow!”
#10
pure and driven clean people
having no idea of fiendish deeds
introducing ideas that “make them go bad”.
Makes me consider what would cause a man to go mad?
Clean cloth and pepper
What’d you do to depress’er
White sheet and braun
What ever do go wrong
How did she think life would start
With still born hand and defeated heart?
#11
My blessed blessed,
May you only see me
By moonlight gaze eened out between
Mist and fog on low land
Next to soft petalled peonies
And bruised lemon grass
My blessed blessed come to me
Under rows of jasmine
And
You
Aromatic of almond oiled skin
Let my eyes fall upon your bare brow
Following the curve
Of your nose down to those lips
And let me think
Once.
Twice.
Thrice reconsider but not pursue.
Still not stare, for even
In those thoughts
I bring disgrace upon both our souls
For that kiss without touch ever leads the
Most holy astray into follies
Of carnal flesh.
What my blessed
Can I endure?
This passage of rights.
This new movement.
It takes all of me
and includes my love for you.
Shall I be found for you, my dearest and only?
We shall
Nothing so great, so fine, couyld get a woman pregnant.
#12
So few find in this mortal coil
A want to forgive and smile
And fine in ways to have more than happiness
And more than you
#13
Belief is what we call a temporary state of suppression of childhood
Once that is reached then and only then can the converted become the believer then a true believer, then a doer then one who knows only then the known becomes the dutiful
#14
How can I honestly say she likes me?
How often have you had sex, she asked.
By the intent in your eye, not enough.
#15
Jungar brought arms.
We weren’t sure we’d need them, but we became more convinced as he told us about the pirates
Three by sea and one besides me.
Three in a raft: one by stern,
Two in the galley, and one by the rudder.
Three by sea and one besides me.
We set sail under a burgeoning wind.
North by northwest a gale burdoned
with salt water. We were born by fresh water lakes,
sailed by gentle winds, and travailed by broad banded storms
We in search of taller trees, canopies,
higher cloud covered skies,
sharper mountain tops,
whiter cloud peaks,
sculpted water ridden vallies,
deeper reflective lakes,
and billowing bushes with shifting reaches.
So we emplore thee
old Gods of the Mye!
There is magic when the stars
show and tell you how to sail away
and home again.
Sailors have always known where
The Pleadis sleep and what the
Western Nebulae claws at.
#16
Albigensian Creed
Tout votre sanc de3vez espandre
Pour la sainte Englise defender
– Lordere de Chevalerie
Wandering naked in the cold
I too wonder what to seek to keep chattering bones warm.
Fear of God?
Love of Christ?
Great Mother Mary save me from displeasure to thee
“Thou shalt believe all that the church teaches and shall obey all her commandments”
I’ve come half a world
Only to find love resides in the breast of a Moor.
Dare I ask what hides behind silk covered tresses?
I seek to war
with Moorish Kingdoms,
yet I find only peace and understanding.
I am a knight, young, virile, yet, eeking out progress
to the flesh.
“Never think of serving God, never tell the truth. If you meet with and honest man, dishounor him. Burn down town, village, houses, over thrown altar and break crucifixes”
-Amis et Amiles, Hadre
“It appears to be simple, but it is not. How often do you get the chance to do something about it.”
“Nothing came of it,” said Lucius, “nothing good at all. Still we made the trek. Pilgrimmage is what you will to her door.”
Laughing and talking all the way wondering if this High Muck-Muck was real. “Neither sweat, nor stain, nor belches shall keep us from appointed round. Shall we bring cakes of other offerings from the sea? Land? Air? Shall we sing praises of God, Goddess, or Demi-urges long gone past their prime? Shall we adorn her with flowers? All I can think about is after that weary journey to her door, some hospitality will be had by us and all. I hope.”
“Way out. Way out past the forest, grasslands, and desert is the woman I see myself by drawing.”
#17
If we speak of shoes and ship and sealing wax
Will pigs not follow?
If we speak of each other
Fecund , sweat drenched, and taled of woe,
Shall we arise only succumbed
By summer’s heat and humidity?
Summer hierarchies
Give sway to banners and manners;
All made of cotton and silk.
For they are
Lightweight and easy to disrobe.
Whispered:
If I took you to my bed…
What would happen?
Blushed:
Nothing.
Toungues langoured by the sunshine
Shall only speak of watery ways
The curve of the head and the lithe of a creek ever flowering between
and the eyes will cry salt over the
sight of fresh streams.
#18
Courtly Love
A fancy in many a tale
A truth but drops from my lips
Only to touch the ground longing to fly into the hand of my lover
Piqued and wan that less in gender
and so low may I be when away
from my blessed blessed.
Her hair, her hands, her breadth, her presence
Give me strength in all of these endeavors
to proceed into other arrays.
What more can I write?
My love for her grows with every passing minute.
Day, full;
Moon, night.
Abundance overflows in pleasure with one kiss to the hand, a
most gratuitous and flattering act of desperation.
Carth cart knew the rule of love was only a fancy.
War was reality.
Nothing but god in the heart.
Nothing but soul to give.
Beyond god?
Beyond all hope of recognition, courtly love could bring a kinght’s soul to blossom
A gracious and beautiful young woman who’s been taught how to gird a young man’s inclinations to the point that it competes with god for a seat at his heart.
They assume what I want is not nobility born of a clear mind.
They assume what I seek is petty and frivolous.
They forget the emotional pain and simplicity of desire,
born of fear,
fear of being left,
fear of my own people,
fear of being homeless,
fear of starving,
and a gentle fear of what I will become.
Lest no thought strives for something beyond an impression of guilt;
Or being racked with determination to fulfill some deep seeded need for feeling wanted by a woman.
#A
In pursuit of perfection,
In my lover’s eyes,
May I bribe, beat, and strain,
To that pinnacle and be the only one
basking in that delight.
#B
Where do I find you?
Me, ethereal; you, concrete.
My feeling surges at the breast.
No comfort for the weary at heart.
Shocked like deer in mid pose before the hunter takes aim with twine, birch and feather;
only to pass.
Why, oh why, may I only be Trioluous?
Forlorn and lost to another caress of your hands,
your arms,
your breast.
#C
How do I find thee?
Awaiting! Thou fornicator of men!
How do I find thee?
Thy upshod of dirt and suet made shit!
How do I find thee?
My rough lover in between the hollyhocks?
Girded, weighted, and torn between a
love I would never find otherwise.
My hopes and dreams of a courtly maid
made faint by the closeness of a tavern wench.
#D
Passages of sleep pass before my eyes
Deep and resounding, plentiful but evasive.
Wicked ways of farce we wrought.
Beyond this and out control of
Wicked thought
this we cry
Out of these which endeavors in which we lie.
#E
Oh Whoa! I ponder my contribution in life
Oh Lo! I have pondered my position in life
Yes again, significant I have wrought yet forgetful of all.
Moon is bright;
Day turn night;
Quenching the thirst for day.
Sun at falter,
Nights getting longer and the air has passed out of the sky.
Moon is bright; day turn night,
Old thoughts fading at the sight of stars.
Morning getting colder,
Anger’s getting older and he says it time to move on
Sun is bright, night turn day
Onward into afternoon
Quenching thirst from parched night cause of
Dusk to dawn is sweat.
Purge my belly’s fire gone wan.
Moon turns pale iris blue;
While sun blooms forth into daze.
Calm and bright
Day turn night
Onward to midnight
Quenching thirst from day
Stars turn to tea light flames
While moon turns away from blazing hearth fires.
#E
Let me turn to that which leaves by the moon.
Give me freedom to be light
When soul weighs down
Its burden
Last let that which needs to leave, go.
Lastly set my sorrows afloat,
To be dawn’s light sail in over the ocean’s edge.
Long enough to heal from a scar
Short enough that it not mar or marks.
#F
Being this brown sets me off as being recognized as white;
though I would be called such by my mannerisms
and speech by an ignorant hoard.
Being this brown sets me apart from being recognized as being just black;
though I would be called such by my mannerisms
and skin color by an ignorant hoard.
Being this brown sets me apart from an ignorant hoard.
Copyright N.C. Constantine 2015 All Rights Reserved
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