Hierophant

by Christina Park

© All poems copyrighted by Christina Park

The Unknown

Crying,
Sweating,
In a kinetic trance
Thinking of you.

Breaking down,
breaking down to shed appearances,
the appearances left over
from bartering with people.

I run in between the two worlds,

between highways through the woods at night,
on unknown roads to distant cities,
down fire escapes and back alleys,
to find you on the other side.
Exit

One drop
in a sea of human faces
was my drink for a day..
ran through my body,
pulsed in my skin,
impressed an image upon my mind,
and then became a tear
touching my face
leaving me
with only the salt on my lips
to taste.
Undertow

Unaware of your approaching embrace

I hang in your arms
drunk with love,

unable to lift my head from the tie that binds me

to your neck,

like shackles on a chain,

like armor wrapped tight around the body,
weighing me down,

drowning me in a reckless sea,

effortlessly pulling me down
beneath the undertow.
Ricochet

I came to you
like scissors to a knife
expecting an embrace.

I came to you
looking for an answer to my disgrace
and found
a puddle at the bottom of an empty barrel, reflecting my face.

I feel the crease of your presence

though you have left me behind;
haunting you with my mind, I find
your vacant place.
Horus

He walks in silence over broken bones,

bits of pain that feed his soul
of lust for power, tender shocks
that kill a subtle girl;

her age is young, her lace is frayed

and trampled on the floor he played.
No one will know
how to undismay her anxious fright.

Let’s sit alone, lovely boy-

rings of questions in your hair,
tangled down the dreaded locks
that weave you into dry despair.

I have a wet, uncontrolled river,

running down my satin face,
underground through secret tunnels
to dark oceans under space.

I am a doll you played with there-

the latex curls of my hair,
the heart of air, the sanded face
gave you a dark and secret place.

And now, my dresses, torn in shreds,

strap me in an empty room.
Waiting for my doom, I read
your empty face.

Locks of lonely pain and hate

frame his Horus face.
He walks around a cryptic chart,
dark circles in his heart, he prays
to himself.
The Kiss

Blood soaked moon

floating in a velvet sky
watches me like a haunting eye.

I’m turning to you,

blood-stained lips and sacred dress,
hair of black hiding your hot breath,
you watch me like a vampiress.

Curled beneath the hidden veil,

a tongue unwinds the choking tale
of lovers lost and longed for.

A ring is found
among the patterned twisted sheets
in embroidered mounds of blankets
where two lovers finally meet.

A crown of rubies,
glittered in a golden case,
adorns the hand around my neck,
as I approach her haunting face.

The kiss of hunger

wakes me from a helpless trance;
I pant under the heavy moon
and look for you.
The Finger

Brittle Seamstress,
designer of my fate,
makes me do the sewing.

With fickle tears

she laughs at my distress.

How many hands must you steal

before you find the urge
to use your own?
What Makes a Woman Desirable?

A coy demeanor, near but far;

a strong physique, but passive heart;
a pretty smile without a care;
a step above, without a stair;
a private place without recluse;
a clever crime with an excuse;
a cross to bear that bears itself;
a fire that sits up on a shelf;
a cake devoured that stays untouched;
a desire without feeling much.
To Desire

To desire and not to be desired,

kissing asphalt,
lying in a pile of sweat.
I cannot scrub the scent from my body;
exposed in public for what I am,
a shivering mammal.
Jinx

Possession in a glance,
a moist look from such distant eyes.
A delicacy to his mental aggression,
now directed at me,
and his every shift in movement
a fondling of my psyche.
A coquettish pet I am,
in the sternness of his play.
Space and Time

Releasing my lifeblood into the air,

My body empties under the heavy mouth of Midnight.

My pulsing skin, my sweating palms,

my parted lips, waiting for my lover’s response…

waiting eternally,
frozen by the unfathomable depth
of his coldness.
I Own Hell

How dare you listen to the words I speak;

don’t you know that they will make you weak?
They will make you deaf, dumb, and blind
before I eat you from behind.

You have no memory of the past,

but I do.
You don’t know where God is at last,
but I do.
You have no strength left now to laugh,
but I will,
when death is satisfied, and peace is still.

I rise with dawn to prowl the evil ground,

descend with night upon the evil found.
Sleep tight, dear son, and wait for me to take
the breath of life you worked hard to forsake.

Justice is a beautifully cruel beast

waiting for your despair at lack of peace;
I hold the remedy It longs to give-
the beast in me will take your will to live.
Love

I’m just a pinball in space

bouncing off you
into some kind of madness.
You’ll find no face
on my hard silver surface.

Trapped in a machine-
how do you like it, now that you know-
we all, controlled by some impersonal lever,
make each other move,
helplessly, monotonously.

Fuck you, you who move me;

you’re just a tool for the machine
driving me into a web
of predestined journey.
How dare you have ever met me.
The Day I Stopped Wanting

The day I stopped wanting by shedding my soul,

I saw my heart slip though a blood-red hole;
with Voodoo, I blew out the last burning light,
‘till there wasn’t a teardrop or smile left in sight.

The saviors relieved, the cannibals thrilled,

the world sprang to life as my beating heart stilled,
and Absence embraced my inanimate grace
as an icon of impotence finding its place.
Gentle Slumbers

Ashes, ashes on the ground

no one was found among the ruins
of this silent town, and though
the hard-boiled air carried wisps of weepy fog,
no one cared.

Mounds of flesh and bloody faces

drowning in a pool of hate
lay still in the peace hell brings to those who wait
for beauty.

Bitter cries and shuddering

echoed in a dark white sky,
where no one heard, and darkness
brought the one thing this place lacked-the ignorance
of betrayal.
Hatred for the Weaker Things

Stupid little doll;

Poor, weak, defenseless little doll;
Poor, little vicious doll-
Standing there so oblivious,
You’re not even there.
You’re flesh teases form and color as if you live,
When you’re really just a vehicle for someone else’s power.

Vicious public; vicious underground;

vicious woman, why do you look so sad?
Is it for lack of the voice you never had?

Stupid, helpless toys I hate your

innocence, for your sin is not your own,
it is mine.
My Secret Passage

And when I'm tired, I hide my secret

Right around the corner,
So you won't see all the void I have available to wander in.

My secret passage
Leads to nowhere, and anyplace,
And has no entrance for you.
Pluto

Alone again, I cower under the iron sky of jagged pain;

I am ironed onto the endless asphalt pavement.

Cry, Beg, Steal, Kill-I am lying on your footsteps;

Go away-I have no eyes.

Let me sing my tone of dissonance

on this forgotten planet.
Mountain Out of a Molehill

But of course, I’m just a woman, typically overreacting to

Your shit on my shoes, an otherwise simple situation.
Now I know what the feminists are talking about-
The average man, making a molehill, out of Me.
Untitled

The isolated girl I am

doesn't welcome you
into her life so you can steal
her dignity and due.

Averse to blame you falsely, yet

averse to share my soul,
the one thing I have left after
the self-esteem you stole.

To argue comes to nothing,

to trust still nothing more
than to have salt rubbed in my wound
and sand rubbed in my sore...

So ne'er will I acknowledge you

-don't judge before you see-
rejection for rejection
is fair revenge for me.