My Heart is Set on You (or Never Ever Fall in Love with a Rockstar) by Megan Seaman

Heart on fire

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

Though you do not care that I exist

Though I send you lollipops like you wish

Though my fragile tissue may gushingly bleed

Though you think you have all you need

Though she sings the songs you passionately sing

Though you’ve given her that diamond ring

Though what I say might sound disturbing

Though I’ll take a hundred years discerning

Though the truth is yet disappointingly unknown

Though you won’t call me on your telephone

Though we live miles and miles apart

Though the distance is long to make a start

Though it rains cold drops on Monday morning

Though it persists through evening violently storming

Though when the sun comes it is wondrously warm

Though the light reveals the drapes now torn

Though what I might say doesn’t mean a thing

Though you care not for gifts I bring

Though I will never feel the touch of your hand

Though we will never go the places I plan

Though the Universe is wide and wild and expanding

Though I’ll see you on that street corner standing

Though our eyes will meet in some seraphic way

Though at a moments pause you will turn and look away

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

My poor old lonely heart is set on you.

It hurts so good (8-2-14 to 8-3-14) – by Megan Seaman

Something golden below the surface

It hurts so good.

You run the sharp nail over the raw and tender surface and it hurts so good. It is the feeling of nothing; a faint scream, or some noise six billion years away. But you hear it anyway. It is the trickle of water from some cracked pipe, in some wall, on some floor, in some building, in some city, in some country, on some continent, and it leaks and flows in the darkness. But you hear it anyway. It is the glimmer, shining, thirty-six thousand feet below the sea, where Spanish dancing cucumbers can’t even survive. But you see it anyway. It is the honeyed smell of spring, some one hundred and seventy-nine days after the first leaf falls on autumn’s ground. But you smell it anyway. It is the flavor of the pomegranate in the dark red depths of the wine that grew from the grapes nourished by the land, which flourished an orchard of Persephone’s fruits nine thousand years ago. But you taste it anyway. It is the aching feeling under three (thousand) layers of skin, wanting to be exposed and touched, wanting to be acknowledge for the sensation it brings. But you feel it anyway. And though it is tender and raw under the piercing metal,

It hurts so good.

Eagle and the King (4-18-14) by Megan Seaman

Flight

“You surprised me with your flight

At once brave

At once unforeseen

Each occasion you swooped down

To take what was yours

And deliver your sovereign message

“By sunlight, moonbeam, and star gleam

you shall see your destiny has already been seen,

will peak, and achieve in fortune’s amity.”

I speaking those – I now silent (12-18-13)

Dream Doodle

“I looked at the reflection in the oven

I wore the dream, I heard the dream, I looked the dream straight in the face

 

Speaking of dreams you said it dimmed

Speaking of times passed way down and gone into endless oblivion

 

Those eyes they glimmered

Those eyes they beamed and pierced even through the complementary colors of the MAGazine

 

I wish on the lonely star shivering out there

I wasted my only breath on silly dreams of a silly girl unwilling to give up silly visions

 

Now here in the wee hours of stillness

Now there you are singing or something with clowns and circus performers of amazing feats!

 

Silent intentions small and secret hidden warm

Silent sighs to the soul who only answers, “someday, someday, someday…” by Megan Seaman

Shed this Skin (9-21-13) by Megan Seaman

the snarl for the end.

“Tangled hair once silken

Now brittle layered in

between oil and skin flakes

animal skin

flaking

flaking

mistaking

the snarl for the end.

 

She reached her fingers in

Toward the pit

and ran

them through

silk and mane

pain

pain

of skin scabby cracked surface.

 

The purpose of this dermis

And the shedding of matter

No longer needed

For her journey coat

Broke

Broke

Choked

on the matted hair that pulled.

 

Shed this skin

Shed this skin

Shed this skin

 

Voice, body, and soul whispered

 

Shed this skin

Shed this skin

Shed this skin” – Megan Marie Seaman

Terrible Mistake (9-24-2013) by Megan Seaman

Mermaids mused about the comforting coolness of their blue black refuge… only depths away

“Was I your terrible mistake?

Five years gone blue then black

Attack of memories and

Flood of fury rocked and

Rolled me

To think that All I was

Was your terrible mistake.

 

Listening to The National

Sing about love given

Then lost, flagrantly

Left behind, lonely

And your apathetic

Words send me back

To that terrible mistake.

 

And no matter how much

My smart head refigures

Recalibrates the path

The viral data eventually infect

Each new datum

Downloaded from above

And imprint this terrible mistake.

 

Silent prayers to see

Your smile beam

Sunlight on me

Again, a risible wish

Spoken to apparitions

Who have no permissions

To mess with the plight of terrible mistakes.

 

Then the blue black darkness

Gets deeper, colder, faster,

Closes in quicker

And it half occurs that

The emptiness before me

Rests within me

As I persistently prescribe this terrible mistake.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 

B. Tucker My Dreamy Companion (7-8-13) by Megan Seaman

Music Man 5-7-4

“And he said, “you know what it’s like? It’s like riding in your dad’s old beater car

Through crowds of teenagers, loud

Because the exhaust system had a hole in it

And you just wished that the ride would be over

‘cause you’d been ridin’ too long

and here you are, through this sea of young things

you are also a young thing

but you wish you were 20 years older and knew

how it all turned out.”

 

Blue was the sky that day when he told me about his disease, caught

while drifting on water

Hotter than the white hot ash smashed into the tray

Burned it did when it hit my skin, heart burned

And busted from dis-ease he gave me

Mouth to mouth resuscitation. No it wasn’t a kiss

Just a wish for life. Please ease me back to light, life

And it finally set in what the goggled-eyed man meant when the sputtering car

Stuttered through the crowd

Pain in my heart, tears down my face, caused by you… my only you.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 

 

Things May Brings (6-1-2013) by Megan Seaman

May Geese

“Sick in May

I’m not alone, but still and no one near

Feel hard cushion where my heart rests

Because I couldn’t guess your start.

Crazy, wasted, is how I am in times like these

Must be, to think the rainbow waves

And dream the smoke billows

That crowd around watercolor scenes

Ivory shows through strawberry skin

Delectable and sweet on the tongue.

 

Walked in the black-brown square

Stares from ghosts twenty years haunting

Clinging like lichen on the footsteps of

Redwood trees for just one taste –

Just one taste –  just one touch –  just one touch

Surviving the rain and weather

All together they swarm in their

Freakish strange haze of

Cloudy suffering

Wondering when roots would

Finally leave their established ground.

 

And they did. Stepped out into the rain

And hurried skipped across the road

Pushed open the door and

Strum and bow to notes of

Young lovers and looks

The Seers clapped to hear

The love sounds made, so intimate

So susceptible to the crowd’s simple whim

And they were proud, loud, in their

Quiet hayseed harmony, hope.

 

It’s the middle of the night and May

Turned into summer, with it’s sensual

Selfish burning every exposed inch of flesh

Blazing clouds and carefully created space

Pacing the dark paths with dewy green

Between bare toes, smell of earthy things

And I couldn’t see anything, but only

Sensed the open meadow

Out of the trees in moonlight

I saw something

Eyes blue bright.” – Megan Marie Seaman

Intention #33 (April 24, 2013) by Megan Seaman

“laughing at the pain left in the watercolors…”

“Maybe if I think you hard enough

You’ll be mine.

I’ll wish you – want you – wistfully whim you

Into reality, serendipity, destiny

And see your bright blue eyes

Gazing at me with a twinkle

And a grin – Yes, a smile

Walking through doorsill

Stealing my will to deny you any longer.

And against my tenacity for sorrowful sourness

You’ll woo my heart to the warmth of your

Tender softness.

Your pure essence – a creative soul of deftness

At burning late day clouds away

With your hot-hot sun

We’ll have fun, Will,

While the kids laugh and play

By seaside, salty and soaked to the bone

We’ll look back in time and realize the signs

Were all pointing to sandy steps.

Laughing at the pain left in the watercolors of

Some murky wet paper, some class, some teacher

Long longtime ago,

We’ll know that tears wept then

Created the sea before us

And the cries were echoes of seagulls

With wanderlust

For coastlines like the one

We stand upon today in

Lingering light of July rays.

And we’ll breathe the sea air and hear

The giggles of children with no care

For sad stories of yesterday.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 

Patience, please (sometime in March-ish) by Megan Seaman

Written…Maybe like Thursday or Friday, March 14^th or 15^th, in the middle of the night

“Sneaking suspicion you’d come

By in that way

Late in the day

And whisper a springtime tune

But Mark says snow will

Come, again

And summer will arrive in

Late June.

 

Whispers wheeze through the trees

I always liked that rustling sound

Cool skin of leaves green

Cast their shadow

On the ground

In the long

Light still reaching

For the day

As it fades away

In the din of

Lonely town.

 

Sit, sit, sit, Sit down now

Wait, wait, wait, Wait

For the monarchs

Believe they will

Fly and flutter

In the butterfly

Bush covered

With its purple

Cones, in droves

They will come

If only you

Believe.

 

And I read about the ones

Who counted

Not just counted on them

To show themselves

But counted their

Every presence

But what about the Monarchs

That were seen dancing on

the sea?

Or did they even know

That some had broken from the band

And resigned themselves

To following Atlantis

And the mermaid

Songs.” – Megan Marie Seaman

And this was his tune… https://vimeo.com/57762315