THE SHAPE OF YELLOW

Trifling with your inadequacy

Your imagined idiocy

Satan speaking in your eye as his spit quenches yet stings your ice speckled blue eyes

Telling you dear, “You’re quite unfit.”

Splintering into the dollhouse that rivets and bends at the sound of your step

You are as cold as a witch’s tit by the 8th degree

To be peered up at closely as your buggered legs quiver at the touch of a child’s gentle curiosity

You think you are something because you have a self-coordinated name

Tripping over your indecisiveness, skipping to the next song, then skipping again

Tryin’ to drown it out, turning up the volume, and lulling your head like a rocking bassinet

Are the demons gone, yet?

Perhaps, they vacation for a bit before retreating back into the memory-foam of your mind

You are quite restless tonight

Maybe it’s from the whiskey

You toss, turn and your legs kicking up

It is the cool and bitterness of spring’s breeze

In the midst of happy flower and the sadness and starkness of your ex’s hollowed out eyes

From a poison too steepening like shouting into a bottomless mossy-brick well

No answers, endless blackness

Quiet stings as with each blooming daffodil and naïve lil’ daises

A screaming yellow pitching into your blanket of normality that is a cloak of an un-broadcasted TV channel’s heavy static

Black, white, gray

Ssshhh

The flashing light fades the pre-existing blurred composition

Gray, white, black

Ssshhh

Moving around the screen

Can’t keep track

Sunshine’s onto your bleak and calloused heart

Chipping away at the overgrowth of your disparity

Exposing your masochism and apathetic love notes

It leaks and sops into a bile of a beast’s gut

Dripping down from his mouth in a language of regurgitated words

Sticking like tar to the bottom of your soles

You walked away from it, but your soul didn’t

Sometimes the body of your heels double click when trekking well-known territories

Now barefoot on the sterile sandy shore

The water cerulean blue, the crests truest to sea foam green

And there

You are….

Melting

We are fused together even after the darkened fuchsia smoke

When approaching Summer’s welcoming end

There will be a slight yellow tinge to the tips of the sharp Silver Maple leaves

With the whispered finally of sleeping birds and the closing of lilies

Nobody spoke

022

Mixed-Media on board by MMM

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A Conversation Between Three Entities: The Face, The Witness & The Viewer

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The Witness: Why do you cry?

The Face: Because, I see.

The Witness: What do you see?

 

::  The Face stares back for a time where The Witness thought to itself ‘until Kingdom-Come, when will it speak?” The Face’s eyes weld up with the deepest sorrow yet the greatest joy with a mouth closed and an unbreakable silence. Then, The Face let out a heavy sigh. ::

 

The Face: I am a Seer

My eyes pour

So, my third eye may shine

It is the diamond of my mind

It cries…

Dripping down from the center-to-the-center

Into a dewy pastel place of pale blues, greens, teals and pinks

Entering into the richest purples

I am not alone…because, You, The Viewer sees

You too are The Seer with eyes that pours like a prismatic liquid rain

The Viewer: I couldn’t make out what you were trying to say, at first. When you were staring back at me as I defined all of your edges and making you more prominent in form. So you would eventually speak to me. And yes, I said “Eventually”— At least, it would and will happen than never.

The Face: I just wanted to protect you.

The Viewer: From whom?

The Face: You, my dear.

The Viewer: Why didn’t you just come talk to me. Now you seem to have a posed caring condescension in your tone.

The Witness: I am ready to listen to you, now.

The Face: At Last…

You have placed me upon your shelf as I collected dust and you even meshed me up with some prized junk

Just. like. a. leftover…

It is okay that you don’t always know what I am trying to say straight away

Such like Lovers need space in between their intimacy.

The Viewer: I want to know, I want to be aware.

The Witness: But, ‘Mono no aware.’

The Face: You also need to be in a space that is ready to receive me

I will indeed communicate my meaning and you may or may not be in a place to listen

You may pretend like you did not know

You’ve been ignoring me the second you were done with me

Look where my external body rests now

The Witness: How? I work with you almost every day, face to face, hand to hand and I get nothing. Just talk to me. What do I need to know? It’s so cruel. You make me work without acknowledgement to my heart…What about my mind or body?

The Viewer: Too many rules…

The Face: You are only ruled if you are blind

Begin to…

Taste with your ears

See with your tongue

Feel with your nose

Listen with your eyes

Breathe with your heart

The Witness: You’re saddened?

The Viewer: Why so…?

The Face: Perhaps it is tragic when

You have forgotten about you and me

Us.

We are one in the same, we are one

In your forgetfulness, you have forgotten how much I deeply-deeply-deeply love you

I handpicked everything about you

I knew just who you were, who you are and who you have yet to become

Your beauty surpasses all physicality

Your truth goes beyond into other beyonds

You are Love

Your purpose is to love

Your greatest obstacle is to Love yourself as if You were Me and I am You.

 

The Face“The Face” by MMM
 8″ x 10″ Acrylic Paint on Canvas, circa 2018

SAD SANDWICHES: Baloney & Plastic Wrapped Cheese, no mayo by Moriah M. Mylod

Seeing my mother standing there with all of her grandchildren looking more infantile

Walking around, carrying the infant that is me

Wishing I had a dad that took us fishing not teaching us anything about how to fish

Wishing I had a dad…

Finally in time, I have created a family

A family I have always needed

Though I sought out glimmers of it in friends’ homes

Nobody celebrates the victories that were overcome

But, I did…

Nobody will acknowledge the injustices that were lived through

But, I will…

Connecting it to all of humanity’s sufferings?

So…

No, I am not unique

I am not profound

I am not special like a child

Knowing now what it is like to be a woman as I witness my mother

Applying her makeup as tears drain from her eyes

Reapplying her gritty mascara as it smears her sandy foundation

Readjusting and pulling up her “big girl panties”

Maybe, it was just an Arizona Oppression

Peering outside from inside of the nail salon window

Seeing that we were in a strip mall parking lot

There were brand-new cars spilled over like apple carts

Yes,  SPEND & CONSUME

Because buy shiny, you’re dull

You’re shiny, buy dull

Getting my nails polished the color of Ivy Green Walls requesting to have a golden dot of the Phoenix Sun in the corner of my ring finger nail

In honor of the burn I’ve endured from trying to thrive in this desert land

I served my time here, Arizona, I mean

I  remember a prison that was my home, 12 years long

Where I died

To travel back in time, then slowly re-birthed 8 years later in a nail-salon

Smelling the offense of mercury laced strawberry lotion from China

The middle-aged woman beside me tripped and said that her “middle name is Grace” as she almost met the ground

Wasting my time here was like too many evenings organizing a junk drawer

Wondering if these thoughts I am having were from the Acetone leaking onto my brain;

“What if Santa Clause was Buddha?”

Giving us gifts to remind us that all suffering stems from desire

Want more…

Gratitude, now?

Happy New Year!

The Great Depression Coffee in here tastes like eau de toilette

We fight ourselves

In 4th dimensions

Measurements

Juices iced-down

Then, sized up

Smoke break?

Air break?

Which is it?

One or the other?

Or both?

Hyper-cubes

5th dimension

Taking data

Knowing nothing

Stuck in space eating mental breakdowns for breakfast in forms of sad sandwiches

AND Stuck in here with Danny, asking me for my socks

I’m glad I gave him a pair of clean ones for Molly

But I didn’t know they weren’t for her

He gave them back to me an hour later

Oh Danny, may God be with you and all the feet you sniff, lick and taste

ARIZONADESERTMYLOD

Sketch drawing in ink by MMM

LILITH: PERCHED IN SILENCE by Moriah M. Mylod

In my dreams we were in Charleston imagining apparitions and clowns

I wonder how we could devise plans to become ghosts together in a tourist town to scare off kids and lovers alike

And seeing how they still wanted us around even

The devil horned

The pale-blue eyed

The predatorial smiles

The dirty skinned

 

A Murder of Crow,

A Flight of Snow Geese

In Winter’s frigid manner

Their feet lifting off from the ground into a frightening flight

Wings whirring in the wind

To a bleakness up above

With a singled eye

Blindfolded

 

To be, but afar from the clashing & clamoring of the flock

To be, but still, quiet…beautiful-alone in the dark

Only to listen to a drop of water from the mental spigot running smoothly and softly across the rusted pipe of every dream you ever thought you were part of

To a childhood in the dust of Poe’s dream

Today’s sour hour is now,

Returning to The Higher

To begin again

Still, quiet…beautiful-together in the dark

 

081

Mixed Media by MMM

MILES OF SHIT PILES, FOR YOU by Moriah M. Mylod

Life is unbearable
Then, it is not
It’s like walking on sandpaper coping with the pain of emotions of every moment
Waning on you, everyday
Wearing away on you, everyday
Into a person you hardly recognize, anymore
Who are you?
Existing on this plane, hollow inside
You are not your feelings
Overbearing, heavy or empty
Does anyone live life restfully?
If so, how?
Is there anybody out-there?

Let me tell you a story…
There is a black dog
Hanging around your house
Gnawing, biting, growling, barking and stalking
You
It never leaves
You
Throw it a bone
And it still bites
You
Walk away and you still hear it…
Clawing
Still taste it…
Chewing
Still sense it…
Taunting
It is a beast
You smile through it
You mope through it
You laugh through it
You carry on about your day
Functioning
Breathing
Eating
Showing up to work late
Brushing your hair
Crying in your car
And so it is…
A loyal companion
That never leaves your side
The black dog is your closest enemy
You don’t want
It’s not up for adoption
Because it belongs to you
You must slay it, yourself
Perhaps tame it
Or it will eat you alive
More than it already has
You cry out for help
But you’ve been crying all the time
So your tears mean nothing, anymore
To nobody
But you do mean everything to somebody
Although you bare it, alone
You feel alone…with it
You don’t want to cradle…it
You want it gone
It feels as though this damn dog is gonna stay
Stay for good
Forever, maybe
Why must you go on like this…
With that black dog on your back?
Because…
You mean everything
To someone
Somebody
Means everything to you
Someone keeps you going
Going on for miles
Miles & miles of shit piles,
For you.

dog-landscape

Photography by Andrew Brockerhoff

Instagram: drewbr0ck

FRAGRANT DEATH by Moriah M. Mylod

How fragrant Death is…
The leaves,
The brush
Dying
and 
Decomposing
Under
Our feet

Why, we watch
The last breath
Burst into
Many shades
Of the color wheel?

A pretty party of
Leaves falling
Like raindrops
Spinning
and
Twisting
Changing direction
To and fro
The insides
Of living things that
Once were
Agonally gasping,
Grasping
How fragrant Fall is… The leaves,
The brush
Dying
and
Decomposing
Under
Our feet

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Photography by Andrew Brockerhoff

Instagram: drewbr0ck

 

ICARUS: MELTY WINGS by Moriah M. Mylod

She bawled her eyes out over the phone
As her mother was on the other line eating
Chocolate Chip Mint Ice Cream
Melty like her wings tied back with assorted pastel colored rubber bands
Mother said it could be worst
It could be better
Much better
She tried to fit all of her belongings in a pale blue plastic bag from Walmart but it had too many holes
And her toothbrush and a torn up flip-flop were already poking out
Toothpaste was the only thing that made her feel clean these days
In fact it was keeping her alive
She needed the minty smell
Refreshing taste on her tongue
That tingle on her gums
Since all her teeth had fallen out
And she had been trying to pick them up one by one with broken bruised finger tips
To place back into her holey bag
Only to fall in between
Dropping
Making tiny little pinging sounds as they hit the white & black tile floor
Found
Her kneeling down on the ground looking up at me with a pained smile
The kind that makes your insides pang
While trying to hide her crying eyes
But the eyes reveal everything
And she wasn’t getting away from me this time…

084

 

Mixed Media by MMM

PLAYGROUND RULES & PHYSICS by Moriah M. Mylod

Tables turn
Moving around and around
Seesaw goes up while the other one is down
Just so you can push your friend back up again
To take the turn
The Swing goes Backward to move Forward
Then Back & Forth
You go up the Slide just to drop back down, again
Upward & Downward
Your hands in the air while waiting for your feet to touch the ground
To become grounded, again
Laughing uncontrollably on the Merry-Go-Round as you start to lose grip
Grasping onto the bars with all your might
Spinning fast Counter-Clockwise
Off you go
Flying and head smashing into a stranger kid
Scraping both your knees and both your elbows in the dried mulch flakes
You grow up to look back on what childhood was for
Maybe…
To learn about Playground Rules & Physics
049
Mixed media by MMM

CLOWN UNKNOWN by Moriah M. Mylod

Hair strands between her finger tips
Dangling and pulling apart to the division she sips
Red stained glass to the joke and the uncertainty of self
Rainbow color for every lover
Crowd pleaser
Separate, splitting into two
Peering sideways
Pulling further
Red lipped, paled skinned and masked
To and fro the crowd
Then alone, she closes the door
Undone she come
Between her finger tips twisting of her demise of the pleaser to the deceaser

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Self-Portrait by MMM