Susan Marie Archives | Rebelle Society

An Ode To Dystopia.

There was an angel there today. Was just a man -- olive-skinned, radiating supernovas swirling like sunspots. I watched him there smiling. Brown leather sandals, a nylon cord sneaking inside his shirt, and I wondered what was on the other end of it. I saw hieroglyphic tattoos poking out of the ...

poetry

Eulogy To The Past. {poetry}

She is here now, waiting for you, to set you free from chains you have bound yourself with.

world

Rumi, Jake Sully, And A Starry, Starry Night.

Thinking of those no longer around, how I wish to speak with them now, standing on my balcony, the sun shining magnificently, so utterly lovely for winter. The birds share their songs, selflessly. The trees readying themselves with fresh buds and herbs starting to grow.

art

The Stillness Of This Precious Night.

My deer have been here. I spy their tracks at the foot of the balcony. I missed them this evening. Oftentimes I catch them quietly by the edge of the porch, feeding from bushes full of berries and greens. When I see them, I toss gigantic organic green apples to them. They like it here with me.

poetry

Let Us Dance, Naked. {poetry}

Let the mad onlookers point and stare, for they wish they were us, encumbered and enlightened, by this strange yet glorious existence, of human, spirit soul-speaking, ultimate.

art

The End… Of The Beginning.

And when I had expelled all of my prejudices, my disdain and my failures, I then sat up and heaved forth every needle pinch to skin and each bleed of my heart. When I opened my mouth, with head held back, as that of a woman, crazed, I wailed and then let out my breath and fell back, destroyed.

art

The Beauty Of The Darkness Of Light.

My lamplight may dim from time to time, yet is never out, and you must be wondering by now what the actual point of this article is. I must admit, I truly have no idea, seriously, but you are still reading, and my duty as a writer is to come up with something intelligent-sounding. So this is ...

world

Waking Up To Consciousness.

I am mesmerized by the sun, the way she dances and dapples, illuminating leaves with paprika and turmeric. The veil is with me always, where I am able to move my hand, lucid and glass-like, lifting silken skirts of varied states of existence.

Susan Marie

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