Lovers ~ Before and After

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ISIS of CRISIS

It now seems
so very long ago
I travelled
that tempestuous path
blessed with
the wrath of Osiris
that led me to Har Məgīddō
where I first met Isis
the serene queen
of my karmic crisis
formed at the frenzied height
of a broken séance
that was torn from a dream
at the Mirage Oasis
where she laid in wait
greeting me in style
with her crystalline smile
“Hello Sailor!
Any port in a storm?
Come pull up a deckchair
and let’s chat for a while.”

As the Blue Nile
was bleeding down
my starboard arm
seeping into the ink
under my shedding skin
Isis led me on
with primal passion
to the steps
of her gilded throne
From the ether
I heard a whisper
that brought a shiver
down to the bone

“Sailor beware
of the Fata Morgana
and her river delta
that turns living flesh
into fossilized stone!”

All caution lost
in the reflection
of her mirrored face
disappearing
without a trace
in a breath of frost
as my life lines
were fully erased
then held for ransom
A life of a thousand deaths
and a thousand liftimes
to conspire our crimes
of the deepest desire
where a raging river
ignites in flames
flowing deep
into her delta of fire
Flood waters rising
with two souls dissolving
into the cauldron
of an all consuming implosion
Orphans of the wild caught
beyond the known limits
of sound and sight
Imprisoned in a prism
of forbidden delight
reciting the incantations
of a fiery baptism
long into an unholy night

In a frozen wilderness
where falling stars shatter
and moonbeams burst
with Eden’s fair Garden
in my rear view mirror
the scars of time whisper
of an ancient thirst

“For the love of God …
we could do you no harm.
Within that still beating heart
was placed a golden charm.
Thus thwarting from the start
your most deserving fate.”

But my heart
was no longer in it
I was left bereft
in a bohemian attic
Remembering only
her forgotten music
and drinking goldfish
at the shopping mall
of all things plastic
when Captain Ahab
came to me saying …

“Forget the goldfish.
Let’s go hunt for whale!
And remember Ishmael,
God is always listening.
Regardless of where
you’ve been sailing
and who’s bell ye be ringing.”

So I thought
why not?!
I’ll go along as
the Committee of Glum
was sounding a false alarm
Erasing the ‘Tit’
from the prow
of the Goodship Titanic
(to then be hidden
in that bohemian attic
only ever to be seen
on the sodden pages
of Iceberg Magazine)
with a shout from the stern
as from an iron pulpit …

“Original sin
from the depths is rising!
And Isis, I’m curious,
what have you been smoking?”

Guilt sinking in
with a cold Atlantic panic
it was about that time
the firstmate succumbed
to a freezing of the brain
leaving Isis
in a vegetative state
Time to escape
a death worse than fate
as a vagabond sailor
hit the proverbial fan
four sheets to the wind
with an inner voice
giving a choice
to sink without a trace
or swim to win
and see the sunrise
over an endless ocean
I was made first grade
by the great I AM
No need to apologize
to the overtly zealous
amongst the dead
or the quick
Yet I soon lost my lust
for whaling
after harpooning
the elusive Moby Dick

So, as from a flock
of rapacious raptors
I ran back
down the track
to the silken road
that leads to Har Məgīddō
awaiting that rapture
Freedom from Fata Morgana
With my juggling days
all but over
only to be
swept over the falls
juggling balls and all
into a whirlpool of desire
Yet the familiar
never ever
felt quite the same
Forever given
what can never be taken
a loving taste
of the great beyond
and by grace forgiven

Meanwhile
Isis sits patiently
under a waning Moon
as she orders
her favourite cocktail
Revenge on the Rocks of Ruin
And reciting
from her Book of Harm
a blessing for Ishmael
the sailor of good fortune
now under full sail
and holding fast
to his golden charm
as he plies
life’s mysterious ocean

~ by David B. Redpath © 2018-2022

The Transit of Venus

Venus gliding
upon the waves flowing
from heaven’s windowsill
Step aboard
my unworthy vessel
my rapacious Rapunzel
With hair flowing down
wild from a golden crown
Mere words can only fail
in the expressing
of what the heart knows
but can never tell
Her love
like a silken gown
flowing down
from an ivory tower
My up rising
from the stony ground
like a morning glory
of power flowering

Deep within
with heavy sighing
to the heavens gasping
“Oh God!”
That little death
of love resurrecting
grasping together
within one diluvian breath
That giving and taking
ever flooding the living
with heavenly meaning
beyond all rhyme and reason
The hours redeeming
with full blown passion
Celebrations sacred
in unity worshiping

This heart has known
the broken floor
and the open door
A spirit united and ignited
touched by the Presence
and then gifted to witness
the transit of Venus
across my horizon descending
resistance was useless
against her amorous spell
that dollop of heaven
sent riding upon a scollop shell
A shot of loving grace
with all existence
trembling in the vacuum
of time and space
That love from above
that burns with anticipation
I just can’t quit it
I’m in the thick of it
Love without question
as she turns
a tantric glance
in my direction
From the storm
of a tragic past
a heathen reborn
upon the threshold
of her heavenly thighs
My earthly kingdom
for an everlasting taste
of love’s perfection
seen in the reflection
of her emerald eyes

~ by David B. Redpath © 2018-22

Artwork:
‘Venus Rising From the Sea’
~ by Titian

Photography:
David B. Redpath © 2019-2022

73 thoughts on “Lovers ~ Before and After”

    1. Thank you, John. I appreciate you
      strapping on a life vest, just in case.
      It was a long sea journey of a story,
      that took some time to rearrange
      those deckchairs on the Titanic to
      protect the guilty … mainly me 😎

      Liked by 1 person

    1. How can I take it any other
      complimentary way, Karima,
      as the subconscious of an artist,
      such as yourself, is the super
      highway of human existence ☑️
      Thanks for drinking the Kool-Aid
      of my post, despite the great risk 😎

      Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Liz 🙏 Yes, there’s
      nothing quite like encountering a
      vengeful Egyptian Goddess getting
      drunk on the rocks of ruination 😱
      Erotic love poems are the ones that
      require no rhyme or reason, so …
      I’m fully qualified to write them 😎

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for the extraordinarily kind
      comment … from someone who is
      obviously one of a kind 🙏 😎
      I too live in an equestrian arena
      surrounded by thoroughbreds 🐴
      ridden to extreme by my daughter.
      Not to mention a pony or two 🦄
      who just munch the grass, with
      not much else to do 🎠

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re very welcome! I absolutely love thoroughbreds. My boy lived to be 28. I haven’t had a thoroughbred since. I was looking into another one, but wound up with an Egyptian Arabian, a POA, and a Shetland Pony haha 😂 complete opposites, but they’re all still amazing!

        Liked by 2 people

      2. I love it! Welsh ponies are such a great breed for jumping and dressage, and Australian stock horses make great trail horses! My Arabian was my A-Circuit jumper pony, my POA is my gymkhana and trail horse, and the Shetland is still deciding what he wants to be when he grows up. He is very green and only has about 25 rides on him. Ultimately, he will be for my twin baby nephews (I bought him five years early for them because he needed a lot of work). I’m hoping my eventual kids will be into horses too because he would be the perfect pony for them to start with 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I’ve been down that thankless track
        of much floating to and from pony
        club & those endless riding lessons
        watching our littlest outlaws ride like
        the wind 🐎 Each and every one a
        bronco busting blessing, and a Wild
        West legend in their own lunchtime
        . . . of course 😎

        Liked by 2 people

      4. Yee-haw 🤠 Haha I love your eloquent style of writing! It really is creative! I wish I could say I was in pony club, but my parents could only afford lessons when I was growing up. Once I started competing, I had to work to show haha 😂 I felt like the biggest badass because I was the only 16-year-old that could pay their own show fees. My mom was at every single show and was the best show mom. My dad was to sick to come most of the time, but he always cheered me on from home. They were always as supportive as possible when it came to horses. No one else in my family was as horsie as me 😂

        Liked by 2 people

      1. Good point, Bojana.
        But who is this Sailor,
        and does he play the guitar?

        “And Madonna,
        she still has not showed.
        We see this empty cage
        now corrode
        where her cape of the stage
        once had flowed.
        The fiddler, he now steps
        to the road.
        He writes ev’rything’s
        been returned which was owed
        on the back
        of the fish truck that loads
        while my conscience explodes.”

        ~ Bob Dylan

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thanks for the energy, Bojana🌹
        I can see clearly now
        that it’s getting quite dark
        as the Kremlin cake melts
        in the mist at Gorky Park
        A last cigarette for an old sailor?
        The seafaring radiation survivor
        a ghost from the inglorious past

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes Chris, Isis had me walking like
      like an Egyptian, which after a while
      becomes a mythological pain in the
      underworld region!🔥😠 🕶️
      Whereas Venus brought me roses
      and chocolates 🌹🍫 all the way
      from Mount Olympus ⛰️ 😎

      Liked by 2 people

    1. For an old salt of the sea 🏝️
      like me 🌊😎 this is such a
      great compliment, Buckeye 🙏
      In fact, my No. 2 son is now a
      Lieutenant in the Australian
      Navy. Just 8 more promotions
      and he’ll be Admiral of the Fleet,
      which would be pretty neat ⛵

      Like

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