Still Life

Poetry LI: {Suena}

©Golden majesty of the sun poured unto the horizon, conquered the reflecting lore of the mystical sea. The sand was warm and soft beneath Their feet; the waves caressed Their toes gently with their thin, white hands, kissed the shores slowly but with kind, rushing passions. Romance blew in the warm breeze against the palm leaves and green, green brush. Little animals scampered about the flora, their small tracks' imprints forming a mosaic with the jewels of the sand. Birds sang in the heights of lush, kind trees. Melodies echoed. The sea smelling sweet. Two small birds soaring into the sun's corona, flying free. Children played on the sands of the beach and in the veranda, wind blowing into the screens, humming lightly with their laughter. Sunlight added warmth to their smiles from the skylight above. They sat there Together, underneath the golden shine, Him holding Her on the white, wicker loveseat, rocking ever so slightly. He watched Their children, smiling purely and fully, His own light gleaning in His eyes. She looked at Him and smiled Herself, leaned in slowly and kissed His cheek softly. Swirls of sand danced at Their feet; thin, loose fern leaves twirled about Them, touched Them lightly and flew off again. He turned to look back at Her, wind caressing Her face, strands of Her hair floating with it. He gently holds them and carries them from Her face and leaves His palm to Her cheek, thumb softly tracing Her facial contours. Slowly He leans forth to Her as well, pressing His forehead to Her's lightly, wind kissing Them once again as Their lips meet. And at that moment the children gleefully cry, chasing circles about Them. They smile mid-kiss, look into Each Other's eyes and glance at them in their playing. They all lean against the end of the loveseat rocking, resting their cheeks on their arms or chins unto their hands, watching Them and "Oohing" playfully at Their loving actions. He grins, tilting His head and is about to playfully lean to them when She gently grasps His shirt and pulls Him to Her, kissing Him once again. The Two of Them smile in Their kiss as the children alter to cute "Ewwing" responses, hiding their eyes behind their hands and arms then wandering indoors. He stares back at Her then and She stares into Him. They kiss softly once more and She leans to Him. Her arm wraps around His shoulder and He lays back gently, laying Her to the rise and fall of His chest; the beating of His heart with the ocean waves. She slowly drifts into sleep along with the new, gentle tides. He watches the sun go down then, to rest for the upcoming days, eternal, before carefully wrapping His arms about Her and carrying Her to the bed, gently laying Her beneath the sheets. The children sit amongst the living room area, sleep caressing their eyelids and He carries them, lets them follow holding onto His leg, and leads them to their own beds as well. He kisses them goodnight, one by one, turning off the lights, prepared to hear their whispering and giggling once He departs. Upon sneaking a small flashlight to let one daughter read herself to sleep, He does. He turns off those lights outside that room and those above the dining area as well, then slowly walks back to Their bedroom once more, tracing the quiet fountain's stone with His fingertips as He passes it there. The golden light blankets Her in Her sleep through the beaded-curtain doorway. He slides the door shut after switching that final light off and the room turns to midnight blue, moon and starlight glittering upon Her now. The fan at the endtable next to the door, aimed towards the bed, is on high, and He lowers it to a soothing, quieter cooling. He then closes the screen door to the shores, locking it silently with the handle and stopper below. He leaves the glass door slightly slid open, allowing the sea scent to filter in and the waves to calm Them in Their slumber. He then gently joins Her beneath the soft sheets and wraps His arm around Her, resting His own head upon Her chest now, feeling Her heart beat for Him. "Sweet dreams, My Queen, sweet dreams.  I love you."

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This is My Dream, mi amor. But I don't want to dream anymore. I can't wait for the images to become Life and Real. I need every chance I get to get closer to them. I need to live with You.... I need to live with You now. It may seem only a fantasy. But it can be achieved well enough. Even if those occurences don't happen that would make living there with You a necesity, being with You is. I need You. I need to be with You at all times, for everything, every little thing, every smile, every laugh, to every tear. Though I'm sure You'd get sick of My company eventually, of course. But these words are the most truth I could ever utter: You are My Dream. Too good to be Real. But this is Real. You are Here. Here with Me. And You shall be Forever.... But once again: I just need You, and need You now. Let Us make this Dream then wake up to the Reality of Our Life. And Our Love.

Poetry L: The {Chaos}

©Sweet Nectar of Life. Everything I can breathe once more. I can see all clearly again, walk with My head held high for this World to tell. To tell that Happiness is within Me. But the Pressures are still pushing unto Me. It is happening again. The solo cause for Ruin that ever dawns the bleeding of night into The Sky. The childlike Me. The unbelieving, doubting, assuming Me. I understand what is before Me. Yet I find a way inside this twisted mind to make everything seem like a negative. Make it seem like You are against Me, My Love. Make it seem there is no Love from You. But it is I, so I can hope, that is only against Myself: presuming there are others, believing I do not fulfill You, knowing so strongly, however false or not, that You will leave me, begging so silently yet so loudly that You will stay with Me Forever. But of all things I know to be true, it is that I do not deserve Your Love, am not worth all that You seem to provide. Everything is destroying Me. I feel so fully that these things are true or shall be soon enough, and fear so deeply that You shall leave. Every little thing I turn against You and against Us, and every little thing You don't say or don't respond to I expect only the worst. How can You love Me? I cry Here, so far away, far away: yet another weakness that shreds Me. I cannot survive the Distance, I fear more Distance shall come between Us. I cannot survive the Time, for You have plenty to abandon Me in. Would it be better if You did? I'm tearing it all apart inside. And soon enough, I believe You shall also finally give in. Give in to My senseless babble of Faithless and Hopeless words. But, though hidden by these horrid thoughts, perhaps there is part of me that believes. No, I know there is. But I can only be so free when I can be with You. But such occasions are so rare, My moments that I can breathe, so breif. All that has happened so quickly lately has helped fulfill Us, I hope. Yet here I am, being this way once again. Or is it just tonight? Hell, will it ever change? Chaos is the only thing that never fades. I believe in Us, I need Us to be Forever. I need You to promise Me it always, even if I tend to make it seem like I don't believe. I need You to believe as well, to mean all the words You say, for I forever believe You not to be sure Yourself. I just need the future. I just need Us to be alone together, always. I just need Your Love, Everlasting, Eternal, and Forevermore. I just need Us, and the same way, always. I just need.... I just need You, Natalia.

~Weston Pride

The {Chaos} Written February 16, 2006. 50 Dias Juntos.

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Poetry IL: {Cup of Blood}

© After a few long, beautiful days of warmth and light and happiness, I see You hanging around the darkness You think You're bound. I see You lower Your head in the corner when I'm not there, listening to that same old song, tears still falling to the floor. But You should raise Your head. Raise Your head and look out the window. There I am. Waiting for You now. Open it for Me, only You can, and let Me in. With all Your lights off I will join You in Your little, lonesome corner and We can finally talk. We can share all there is to share, say all that needs to be said, and finally make the Day Ours. Because the world is waiting for Us, Dear. And I am only waiting for You now, after You've waited so very long for Me. But I'll still hold You in the sunlight as You pale, unable to see. I'll take out the dagger You so very much dread Me to have and open Myself up. I'll let the blood fall to the rose pedals of Our happiness below and I'll fill My hands to the brim with My savory crimson. Take these hands in Yours and lap away at the thick liquid, taste its nectar: the sweetness to bring Life. You can look at Me now. Let the smile come. I will smile back always. Truly and purely. For I love You. This is the drink that will grant Us, not everlasting youth, but eternal Love. For We have it now. And always shall.

~Weston Pride Written February 3, 2006. 37 Dias. Juntos.

[Cup of Blood]

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Poetry IIL: {The Final Battle}

© Lightning crackled in the Sky, split its seams in blinding light. From their heights the world was small, the rain seemingly swallowing it whole. The thunder: the growling stomach of the Storm's Beast. A war raged on below, buildings crumbled, from the living darkness, from the acidic rain, from Chaos alive itself. But above it all the true Enemy dwelled. No closer to any known Heaven in the Skies, there they both were. The two faces of a savage soul, two bodies only borne because of light and the shadows always formed from it. They formed circles upon the slick, black rooftops, watching each other in the darkness and natural luminescences. The two held blades that seemed to whine in the glean of flashing lightning. His arm dripped crimson down His fingers, past the handle, and streamed down the silvery metal. The Enemy held a scar, slashed across his eye, a horrid wound. But in a land of blind, the one-eyed man is king. But Here, this Imposter shall no longer rule and reign darkness within His world. Because this world was soon to be joined with another. And nothing shall get in the way. The Sky shook the Land with its growling and magnificent roars. The Tower shook, but their footing held, warming rain slipping past their boots. Behind the black and gray of the atmosphere, the Sun was burning away the Shadows.... And He lunged forward, a deafening cry of thunder and a shearing blast of light, clashing with the sparks of their meeting blades. And the two of them danced about that Tower, blades twirling in the glow of a veiled Sun beyond months of Darkness. A Demon dreaming, stirred in the core of the Earth. The Tower shook more still, He tilted, His swing high, the blade peircing the Enemy's shoulder. Here, His fears breifly came alive in this place where He once died. The blade spun away and from the Tower, fell to a distance far below, possibly only closer to a Hell. But it was only a mere ledge, lingering within His reach. The thunder laughed menacingly at Him. He regained His balance and raised His head, eyes gleaning with bright luster, hair swallowing His eyes, and a grin, ever so slowly trickling from His lips. The Enemy hissed at Him darkly, but He let Him approach so evily, of which He took the time to release the dagger in His trench coat. A wickedly shaped blade it was, the diamond handle glimmering enchantingly as it slid from His sleeve. The Enemy stepped forward and swung his blade down, and He took it, raising His forearm, letting it engage the flesh. The foe stared at Him and then He Himself lashed out to the Enemy, peircing his chest lightly. And that Imposter keeled over standing, took a shuffling step back, and He spun His heel into his cheek bones. The Imposter twirled into the air, lightning lashing through his flying body. Smoking, but still slowly rising, the Enemy cracked his neck, stared at Him breifly then let out a cry and charged towards Him. The thunder moaned. He smiled back at His foe, grasping His peirced arm breifly, and leapt from the edge of the very top of the Tower, to that ledge below, the knife leaving His hand mid-flight with lightning snapping at Him spontaneously, rapidly. The Enemy fell towards Him, and He retrieved His dagger from the air all over again, then flung it upwards. And that blade caught the Enemy deep, throwing him against the wall while falling, trailing black blood down it. Below, the Demon of the Earth awoke, the grown child of this Imposter. Hell's old gate broke free. The Dead came to aid the foe of His. They poured out of the wet, dark soil like maggots to the rotted. They streamed to the doorway of the Tower. The Enemy glared at his new wound and took hold of the grip, twisting it from his shoulder's bone, letting his sword fall. He laughed at the pain, yes, the pain. The True One smiled. "How do you like it?" The Enemy tilted his head in a semi-circular motion then glared deeply up at him.... then leaped forth. He cut the air, lashed at it as the lightning did as well, footsteps booming on the stairwell behind the walls. The True One guarded with His forearms, shoving the foe back, lashing with His knuckles to the Enemy's chest and face, clawing as well at the wound upon his lost eye. The foe's anger surged in the air around them. But He pushed forth, never tiring, never halting for a moment, feeling the air purify as the Sun melted the Shadows high above.... And then He was bashed to the wall, held there, but His arms before Him, holding back the Enemy's own arms, which were pressing the dagger's blade towards His face. It quivered mere inches from His own eye. A raindrop, malevolent, fell into that very eye, but yet He twisted His legs and swapped positions with His foe, now the Enemy with the blade to his face. That Imposter let out a tired grunt, but then chuckled through his drying throat. "Look." Was all that Evil had to speak and He diverted his gaze from His Enemy to His own reflection upon the watery and silver metal he was pressed against. He stared deep and hard, but not for long, and looked back at His foe. He knew that He would never again birth His own demons. Never again. The Enemy leaned in close and peered into Him, but He jammed the blade into his stoned chest. The Enemy cried out, dark blood dripping from his lips, but yet he still reached into his own deep pocket and withdrew a long, black chain, then whipped it towards Him. But He merely let it wrap around His arm then yanked the Enemy towards Him, held him in the air from beneath the chin and slung its metal restraints around the foe's throat.... Then threw him from the Clock Tower, kicking up His sword, wrapping the chain in it and impaling it to the Tower's stone.... And then the Enemy hung there, feet dangling, as the air purified itself in growing, dominating sunlight, losing ability to even breathe anyways, grasping the metal at his neck. Then the Clock Tower boomed. Midnight dawned. He whispered to the heavens as the Enemy went limp below, swinging high above His Earth.... At the last gong of the Tower, the Sun finally tore through the lightening Sky, and the Dead rushing towards Him, crawling from above, exploded into ash and dust, blowing away in the final negative winds. He breathed inwards then, the air warm and truly pure. He slowly sat down unto the edge of the Tower and crossed His arms, grasping those wounds and let the sunlight hit His face, sighed, and smiled to the above. Far below, as the mists faded away and as the soils flourished new green, green grass, She stood. Smiling as well. Waiting....

~Weston Pride Written February 3, 2006. 37 Dias. Juntos.

{The Final Battle}

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