The Dissolution of Illusions, of the Queen of Balconia; at the Hand of an Odd God.

High above the thoroughfare

that is the highway to hell

perched on her pretty-penny porch,

the queen of Balconia eyes her empire

with the denial

of one recently dethroned,

but unwilling to admit defeat;

or is it,

that?

 

A

point;

to ponder perhaps,

nothing is new and all in its place;

in this, her getaway from the everyday

where fantasy is a right of freedom

responsibility is the right to rebellion

and chaos the only order of the day;

defeated?

Not she,

but different…..

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

(an odd kind of god)

jaunts by on a jetstream

dismembers her daydream;

silence is severed with a screech

in a tone that tells her,

“make note missy;

my view is better,

than yours”!

 

Really,

the royal realm

below her pretty-penny porch

is still the same as it was yesterday

and the several since,

she bid farewell

to a love,

that outlasted many

and outshone them all….

It is an odd god

who sneaks into her soul

in a moment of memory;

(a big blanket on Balconia

on the night of a thousand stars),

and pierces perilously close to her heart

but heals the wound with the thought:

she has grown

a little more….

 

It is,

an odd god;

to provide the prince for a while

the boy-toy of Balconia

and odder still;

to let her – let him go

smoothly with serenity

deprived of the drama;

that long was the benchmark

of the queen of Balconia.

 

An odd god indeed,

that led her on an ocular odyssey

a surveillance of her situation

from this, her pretty-penny porch

high above the highway to hell

as a ruse, a ploy, the prelude;

to the dissolution of illusions

of the queen of Balconia,

in the stunning supposition:

that “Love,

has many

gentle

endings….”

(M.Y.F.M, 2004)

 

The Reinstatement of Faith, to the Queen of Balconia; at the Hand of an Odd God.

Perched on her pretty-penny-porch

still above the highway to hell

but from a more poignant point of view,

the Queen of Balconia surveills her situation

devoid of the denial

that may have dethroned her,

derailed the mission;

or was it

that?

 

The

next point:

Power: she ponders it well;

Was it his, hers, theirs

or was it in the tattered remnants

of her disheveled dignity?

A mission? Perhaps ….

but poles apart

from the one previously in place.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

(an odd kind of God)

perched high in his Aerie

rouses her from her reverie;

quiet is quelled with the admonishment;

“Make note Missy,

the big picture

is still

mine”!

 

Still

the same view,

just slightly askew

from days previous to this

and the several since;

the April Fool darned her tattered dignity,

with the loving hand,

of one who had stitched too many incisions

inflicted by

the slaughterers

of souls.

 

It is an odd God

to provide one April Fool

golden silk on his spool,

there in the moment

at which the wound is most gaping

freedom emerging,

still clawing and scraping;

at the prison walls

that had closed in

on her

soul.

 

The

demons

released now,

the April Fool mended

her mishandled heart;

and gingerly tended

to the restoration of the being,

of a woman massacred:

by the machismo of men.

 

It is an odd God;

who brings her a King,

puts the writing in place

with a silver-tipped wing:

“This Fool is worthy of her highness’ heart”

Not a boy, not a toy, no prince and no pauper;

The April Fool is her King

with the power to stop her

senseless

self-

destruction.

 

An odd God

indeed,

though he knew of the Fool,

let her dissolve the illusions

with her own set of tools.

The reinstatement of faith

to one so horribly wounded,

for the Queen of Balconia

the truth finally sounded,

in the stunning supposition:

that Love;

has many

strange beginnings.

(M.Y.F.M. April, 2005)

 

The Dawning of Reason, for the Queen of Balconia; At the Hand of an Odd God.

Perched back on her porch

of pretty-penny fame;

the Queen of Balconia

calculates the carnage of this,

her most recent journey

along the highway to hell,

on a mission of love:

a quest for equality

or was it

that?

 

April,

now May,

and the Fool far away;

a memory so distant

she is highly resistant, to the idea

it was even real…

Real though it was

and her heart it did move;

for the Queen of Balconia

the Fool missed his groove

His mending and tending

a thinly veiled ruse

a means to his end,

to dump shit and abuse!

She is wiser today though,

saw right through his ploy

For one April Fool

This Queen

is too

Coy!

 

Self-

respect and her dignity,

still firmly intact

The Queen of Balconia

Enters a pact:

To self and her Deity,

she solemnly vows;

never again will I settle

for a mere facsimile,

the thin veneer of a fraud,

Nothing short of the perfection

Of my very odd God

(M.Y.F.M, unfinished(?): 2007)

 

Next: Runaway Queen (coming soon…)