note to self

strumpet trumpet, or 'all hail to the rain king!': an invocation

hem ... hem!

prince of the moonlight,
all hail unto thee!
though fly'st on swyfte wynges,
all hail unto thee!

oh... fish!

your queue, b.!

---

...

i loved you once, raven king.
it was in another time.
your touch.
your smell.
your skin.

i knew who you were by the lingering finger
pressing against me, through me, into me.
nobody saw you. me. us.
i still feel your touch.

the taste of your mouth
-- cliché-ladden, but, oh!, ...
i can only imagine it tasted sweet.
instead, the sour smell of cheap liquor.
if i could taste that liquor on your lips
but once.

white skin, stretched over human bones.
if i could blend into your body
just one more time.
burn into the blue light
and become one with the whiteness,
smell your hair,
taste your mouth, oh!...
rake my fingers
over that white plane.

i loved you once, rain king.
it was in another country.

---

the bardess appologizes mychely to the great godess of poetry, which is bini. i am only fit to stand in her shade and get heavily sunburnt by the radiance of her divine lines of the pen! (i enjoyed our afternoon banter immensely!!!!!)

edit: it all started with the following text being entered into a post in the LJ poetry community:

"light pools of blue
and tresses of black
no more i-love-yous
and bones and skin
the rain king ruffles his feathers

hollow laughter
on hallowed ground
i drink to you,
rain king,

and your bitterness,
mere pawn of time,
melts away

at the taste
of your skin

and bones
----
well, sabine (you urged me to join in the first place),
i was overcome with inspiration.
strike that!
see?

inspiration."

---

ps. you may have guessed by now the true identity of the 'strumpet trumpet'...