Exhaustible Fate

This is the last poem I'm going to publish from my book Through the Silent Caldera on the internet, since I am busy editing my second book at the moment. I hope you all enjoy it. My mother asked me to read this poem years ago, but I wasn't ready by any means. Death comes with some many different emotions that it is a very difficult to process at times, this poem only focuses on one, anger. 

Mictecacihuatl

The day life slipped

From my only shelter

I met a primitive woman

Barely clothed

In a tattered

And frayed frock

Burgundy bleached

From an unforgiving sun

With short matted

Ebony hair

She took notice

Of me slightly

As I arrived

For I

Was just passing through

Deep within the jungles

Of South America

She had carelessly

Busted open

An exposed grave

While the rain forest wept

And began washing

What little laundry she had

Amongst the water

That had seeped in

To accompany

The decaying bones

Of a poor soul

Withering away

In an ancient cemetery

Suddenly my hands

Were her's

And I began chanting,

"Bana, bana bana."

At that moment

A decrepit stone sundial

Struck two o’clock

Sunlight glistened upon

Every crystallized raindrop

I realized

Death had consume me

Murdered me in my sleep

He did

While my attention waned

As a crescent moon

The Great Witch

A mother of divinity

Warned me

Two years prior

But not even

A channeled spell

From a planet

Where magic inhabits

Every being

Could untangle

Such a bitter curse

Of discourse

Marked upon my soul

By his misguided

Vengeance marred

For a week I traveled

In between worlds

Nowhere near humanity

Just glissading through

One looking glass

After another

And oh how he begged

Humbly negotiating everyday

With the archangels

Of lore

To bring me home

Wailing with clenched teeth

Bedamning himself

For all he had done

Finally

I was brought back

To my animated body

Kept copacetic

By a merciful angel

Safe

I thought I was

But you must understand

A man such as this

Has no soul

Would you like to know

How he killed me?

He took my broken

Grief stricken soul

Riddled with tears

Of multiple

Nervous breakdowns

And slaughtered

What was left of me

When I was most vulnerable

For this is not a human being

But a demonic force

That has only been witnessed

Upon the silver screen

In the shadows that creep ©

The Magical Caldera

The Magical Spectrum

Take me where

The fireflies dance

And the meteors rain down

Bringing new star seeds

To Mother Earth

Bring me home

Where a dryad

Is always hiding

Within a Yule tree

Take me

To the mighty oak

Where the fairy folk

Live deep within

Aged roots of perfection

For no home is complete

Without their gentle touch

Let me dance

With James

The royal librarian

Under the spiral

Of an ancient bibliotheque

For he collects all my words

Keeping them safe

For future elf kin to read 

Let me adventure

Into different dimensions

Where comfort awaits

For it's too harsh here

Among the ruins

Of a developing civilization ©

Karen L. Fleming, The Magical Caldera

Microcosm of Poetry: 13

Half awake
I scribe poetry
Effortlessly
Not even a drop 
Of coffee by my side
Cozy under
A heap of covers
I do lie ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 12

Honey
Your dramarama
Is too much for me
I'd rather play
Russian Roulette
In the quicksand
Than listen to
The hogwash
You preach ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 11

Empty words
Are lifeless gestures
Decorated in
Extravagant 
Christmas paper
Topped with 
A god awful
Gaudy bow ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 10

Lullabies lost
Static creeping in
Cringe worth spider's venom
How it all starts to seep in ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 9

The worse pain
Inflicted upon a soul
Is abandonment
By a loved one
During illness ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 8

Abuse
Shreds souls
Bit by bit
Nuking
All inter sanctity ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 7

Lies spoken
I incinerate

I don't buy fables
Laced with cyanide
Whether on sale
Or priced
Excruciatingly high
To defraud my soul
Bit by metaphysical bit ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 6

Steal my words
I'll steal your fucking soul  ©
 

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 5

Let the snake in the grass be
For no home shall it call thee

Forgiveness stolen
By a selfish prick t'was
No mercy left to bestow
Upon a desperate fool's head ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 4

When words have been lost
Forsaken due to lies decay
T'was love never ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 3

The clock chimes
For no reason
Nonexistent
Time is
Merely 
A quiet lullaby
To calm
My frazzled nerves ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 2

Shall I inscribe
The death
Of my muse?
Ah, I think so
Asshole that he is
Nothing more
Shall he ever be ©

Karen L. Fleming

Microcosm of Poetry: 1

Mud encrusted
Swaying to and fro
The dead have risen
A lower frequency 
Anchored to
They seek the warmth
Of infinity's sun ©

Karen L. Fleming

Sample Poetry from Unsolicited Aspirations

The altruism of the universe

Granted me

Such a delicate wish

A quiet need

Unrecognized

My specialty

Unintentionally

Versed in galactic sorcery

Or maybe….

Just one preposterous thought

Began carving out a new future ©

Written: 10.06.15

Common Sense Observations 1: Women's Sexuality

Men have a tendency to believe any meme posted about women's sexuality, my advice to all the men sitting behind computer screens is to actually go ask a woman what she enjoys. Hint: We're all different and extremely diverse in our sexuality just as men are.

Furthermore, if you ask someone about their sexuality and they don't tell you, then that means the person doesn't trust you at all; hence, why people fuck rather than make love. Yes, most men don't realize there is a difference between making love and fucking; and if they do, then the gentlemen is a keeper. ©

Written: 1.21.16