#Haiku: Passion
Desire levitates
Inner Goddess
Divulging
Fiery life
Category: #Goddess
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Haiku by Alysse Aallyn
#Haiku: Meatless
No longer trapping
Varmints for
Dinner I say
“Hello butterfly”
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Haiku by Alysse Aallyn
#Haiku: Controlling Beauty
Surprise or design?
Choose –
Limits of your brain
Chastise
Infinity
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The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 7 – Bride & Seek
In the elevator Verne requested:
“Game face only.” I was bemused.
Which game is that?
“Bride and Seek” – the ancient
Party game – requires someone
Getting locked in an airtight trunk
Does not end well, as I recall.
We decanted on the penthouse floor.
Battle of the Rich Men, I thought,
Who knew that’s how my
Weekend would devolve?
But this man’s apartment seemed really his
As opposed to Verne’s
Antiseptic rented rooms –
Each gaudy piece carefully curated,
Trucked in from God knows where
Art deco friezes,
Naked ebony statues –
Bows & arrows –
Lots of brass and torchieres.
And that’s just the hall.
Leather paneled, copper nailed door
Opened before we even rang the bell and
A handsome, shorter, older man
Stood before us in bathrobe and slippers.
Mirabel with this guy?
What is the use of beauty
If this is all it gets you
Verne’s at least good-looking.
“Why, Verne,” he said in a voice even I
Recognized as jovially false:
“What brings you at this hour?
Please come in.” Bizarre foreign accent
I couldn’t place.
He took my hand, mauling it like many
An unbalanced teacher at my Special School
for Introducing Adolescents to Adult Subjects
Long Before They’re Ready.
I am practiced at closing my mind
Against these guys
Even as they woo me.
“You can only be Mirabel’s lost sister.”
“That’s just it,” I said, “It’s Mirabel who’s lost, not me.”
“I’m Ravi Kruptupian,” said the man,
Refusing to let go.
Subtle power struggle – your manners make no
Purchase here –
My first flicker of
Actual fear – alone in the world
With two strange men who wore
Compulsive need like ad logos.
I can’t fault Mirabel for deciding
Better disappear than marry amongst this ilk but
Where does that leave ME?
“Welcome to my enchanted forest,”
Said the man in the bathrobe.
“Please leave your shoes by the door.”
He slid the bolt as
We came through.
“I know it’s late,” Verne began,
Ravi said, “Never care about the time. Drink?
Pot of coffee?”
Kruptupian’s inner rooms did not reassure.
Dark, hand-carved, certainly fake
Tree branches projected from the walls
Displaying riots of glittering glass objects.
Coffee appeared from
A wall recess. Why not?
Spiked mine with hot milk and brown lump sugar.
“Where exactly did Mirabel SAY she was going?”
Asked this man as if he and Mirabel’d never met.
“Aren’t you supposed to be
Honeymooning?”
Was that a tinge of glee I heard?
I’m sure Verne heard it too.
He might go off on any moment –
I didn’t think he was coping well –
Game face was NOT in evidence.
We sat in an upholstered leather booth
Highbacked –
Plundered from some café.
“She didn’t say,” said Verne.
“She was joining us for dinner,”
I told this strange new man.
“I just arrived on the six o’clock train.”
“Sisters can be difficult,” said Ravi.
“Or so I’ve heard.
Your relationship was good?”
Wow! Mirabel wasn’t great at telling folks
The basic facts about her family.
Was he implying
Mirabel left because of ME?
Two Marshott girls never breathe at once?
I decided not to get into it.
“She seemed fine when we tried on clothes together,”
I began to feel hopped up on coffee.
Quit that stuff
Before the shaking hands. I
Banged my mug upon his shiny table.
“I heard you knew her well.”
Let him think she’d squealed –
I smiled in a way that forecloses
Further questions and
He blinked indulgently.
“I haven’t heard a word
Since her going away party.”
Ripple of surprise from Verne.
“Going-away party” unknown to groom?
Ravi kept smiling.
He had a lot of teeth.
“Maybe she needs a honeymoon alone
I heartily recommend
Fall in love with your SELF first.”
We did not believe him for a minute –
He was needling Verne.
This bad conversation somehow seemed
To be endlessly getting worse.
“She certainly had the means –
I gave her a generous parting gift
Then found out she helped herself to more.”
His face hardened, steely-eyed.
“I didn’t know until she tried to fence my stones.”
“Mirabel stole from you?” spluttered Verne.
“Who knows what went through her mind,”
Ravi spread his hands in apology.
“She may have been confused about my gift.
No harm done.
Jacobson returned the stones.”
What did all this mean? Don’t worry about Mirabel,
She’s just a little thief?
Disappearing from humiliation, exposure & shame?
I felt surge of prosecutorial passion:
Was it possible to get to the bottom of this?
Never had “game face” seemed so
Dangerous and unappealing.
“She worked for you?”
I tried to clarify.
“She was my scout. She brought me –
Things I might want to buy.”
Verne’s boil burst.
“She never for anything with me!”
He sounded ready for a fight
But defending his money, his charm or
My sister?
Ravi skirted the issue
With old-world politesse.
“Women keep some expenses private.”
That’s true as dirt;
My mother calls it “mad money”.
A hundred dollars tucked inside
Your bra. Verne would never best this man
Except in hotness and
Eligibility. Someone
Needed to tell him he was “enough”;
Probably that was Mirabel’s job
And she got tired of doing it.
I was not the one to explain to him.
I pursued investigation.
“Did she call you?”
Ravi pulled out his phone.
Flicked through content. “I don’t see it.”
“She took a car to the wilds of Brooklyn,”
Verne asserted, coming back up
Like a Bobo doll.
“Know anything about that?”
He was overly combative – this
Wouldn’t get us anywhere.
“What address?” At least
Ravi seemed interested.
Luckily Verne recalled it.
Ravi remained impassive.
“I’ve got no information.”
Verne stood up. This felt bad.
“Sure she isn’t hiding here? Using some old key?”
Ravi rose too.
Short but still impressive.
“She never had a key. She couldn’t enter
Without my knowing. I’d rather
My house guests weren’t disturbed.”
Verne veered away. Fisticuffs avoided.
Ravi walked us – miming helpfulness
Towards the door.
“I suggest missing persons.
Get police involved.”
He seemed to know this would insult Verne further
And it did but Verne shook it off,
A punch-drunk fighter.
“What good are they?”
Ravi pushed his luck.
“Troll the basics – hospitals and morgues.”
Verne’s face melted into gargoyle.
Turning to me Ravi backtracked –
“Likely bridal nerves? The engagement was
So sudden.”
“We’ve been together forever!”
Verne barked. I took his arm.
“Sorry if we’ve inconvenienced you.”
Somehow the door got opened.
“No problem. Let me know if she turns up.”
I shoehorned Verne outside.
“You’ll tell us if she calls?”
“If that’s what Mirabel wants.”
I got the door shut before Verne
Attacked him.
“I hate that guy! He’s so disgusting!
How I wish we hadn’t come!”
I thought he might weep.
The elevator opened without a
Summons. This whole place seemed
Intent on ridding itself of us.
But Verne resisted. “I bet she’s in there.”
He looked back longingly.
“I bet she’s not.” I muscled him
Into the elevator.
“How do you know?”
He looked at me as if I had
Magic powers.
“He accused Mirabel of stealing!”
Verne blew that off.
“Mirabel’s light-fingered.
He steals from the world, she steals from him.”
He didn’t seem to realize
This philosophy could apply to him.
Why marry someone you can’t trust?
One more thing I still don’t get
About Adult World.
I reassured him.
“She burned that bridge. I could tell.”
Verne taxed me with how I knew –
Sneering, “Woman’s intuition?”
Since he couldn’t trust Mirabel
How could he trust me?
Needing me made him hate me.
I would have to manage him
Like a parent. Like poor
Mirabel herself. Luckily
He relaxed into the car without more fuss.
I said, humoresque – “I’m psychic.”
I say that to my folks because
They’re just so clueless about
Others’ vital signs –
How else explain the obvious? But
Verne’s whole face changed. He became
Pathetically excited.
“Of course!” he said.
“The sister thing! It creates
A Psychic link. I have no siblings.
Tell me what you feel?
Where’d she go?”
The driver also needed to know:
Where to?
We put him on pause while
I equivocated.
“I haven’t seen her in so long,
The connection’s fogged.”
The only thing I knew for sure was
Mirabel must hate Ravi just like I did.
“I need to get to know her again.”
“Tell me where to go,” said Verne.
Then he invoked the magic words.
“I’ll do anything.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Mirabel’s been hard to pin down lately.
Then suddenly she changed. This marriage idea.”
Did he blush or blanch? I couldn’t
See clearly in the darkening light but
His throat trembled raw
With pent emotion.
My face must have betrayed
My distaste
Because he hurried to explain.
“She’s been trying to
Talk me into seeing her family.
A wedding to erase her
Great Silence. I thought we were
Two avatars alone. I imagined
A woman to stand with me against the world.”
How rich, I thought, literally,
For a man with a title based on family
To disown that very concept.
But to quarrel seemed
Perfidious, and once again,
The youngest person in the room
I was silenced and shamed.
He leaned back in his chair
As beef wellington arrived.
“I’m amazed you existed, frankly.
I thought the little sister
Was another of her stories.
Kudos to your parents.”
I stared nauseated
At beef wellington –
Perhaps I’m vegan after all.
This party made me gag.
“I’m so glad you’re you,
Just like her but so
Unspoiled.”
Never had a compliment
Felt more like an insult.
What kind of talk was this from
A prospective groom?
And any idea that my parents “made” me
Is creepy and revolting.
“Mirabel and I are opposites,” I stressed
Too angrily before I considered.
“How can THAT be?”
He was smug. Superior.
I schooled him.
“She cares what others think and
I just don’t.”
That should have stopped him but –
It didn’t. He smiled
Indulgently.
“Sisterhood is powerful.
I see she’s got “the drop”
On me,” he emphasized the slang
Like any English lord raised on
American movies.
Unable to be me;
Unable to read him,
Know him, change him.
Is this the dawning of
Despair? It makes me hate
The grown-up world.
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 3 – The Lost Sister
I realized with horror that
I was going to cry.
Seemed I’d never expected
To actually see her
She was a scam – a myth –
Like so many ones
She pleasured to perpetrate
On our poor parents.
“Darling!” Threw her skinny arms out
And kissed the air.
“You escaped!
You’re all grown up!”
She was shorter than me now –
A tiny person-
How I laughed.
Laughed with relief –
Suddenly I was initiated into
Her exclusive club
Two of us against the world
Superiority & sisterhood.
She’d always known – none better
How difficult parents are.
They didn’t need me to protect them
Running my own modest scams
To engineer breathing room
Took all the help I could get.
Could it be time for Mirabel and me
To grow up together?
I’d have a New York City sister –
Married to a lord
Providing escape anytime.
Mirabel tossed Verne a burning look –
“Get us drinks?”
And dragged me –
Literally DRAGGED me –
Into a double-doored bedroom where she
Swept me down upon the white flokati rug
And gazed deeply in my eyes.
I felt a bit of a hostage at that point
To tell you the truth.
She seemed more desperate for ME –
A nobody fourteen year old –
Than I was for her.
How could this be Mirabel?
So much smaller than my memory –
Disappearing before my eyes in fact,
Running away
As she had seemed to do
The whole of my existence –
Shoulders folding together
Over her knees –
Dress size diminishing
Smaller, ever smaller.
How could this tiny thing
Ever strut a catwalk?
Blondness was history
She was a redhead now.
She caught me staring at her scarred
Upper lip and covered it
With a gesture I recalled
As if moving her hand fast enough
I wouldn’t see it. “Too many
Piercings gone haywire,” she explained.
Apologizing to me
For the ruin
Of her beauty.
Something rattled at our door – Mirabel called –
“We’re naked!”
Pulled me into giggles –
“Leave it outside!”
She covered my mouth and signaled with
Humongous eyes –
Crawling to the door she –
Peeked out low –
Pulled in a
Champagne bucket and a pair of flutes.
My face must have showed
Surprise at his exclusion; but
She said: “Grooms get in the WAY
Of weddings! No one wants them!”
She lifted an unsteady
Rock-wearing hand to toast –
“Men! You know! They want to
Decide everything but weddings are the
Bride’s-” She gasped and gagged
As if from desert thirst – as if
She’d never had such wine.
“You can’t think what pleasure it is
Finally getting rid of him – too much
Togetherness destroys
The hardiest relationship.”
I sipped sedately, even though
The brew frothed my sinus
Parked burning foam
Behind my eyes.
How COULD this be Mirabel?
The way she looked at me –
Something stank of
Imposture and deceit.
I just can’t say –
I’m far too new –
It’s just too weird.
She was my sister and yet not.
She leaned too close to
Touch my hair.
“They should have named you
Maribel so we’d be twins.”
The door opened and Verne stood over us
Looked reproving as
Mirabel fell away.
But he was mild enough
Laying dress bags on the bed.
He winked and
Then was gone
Door slightly left ajar –
Pointedly, I thought –
Mirabel closed it with her foot,
Called, “See you at dinner!”
I felt sorry for the poor groom –
Then we heard the outer door slam and
Mirabel unzipped bags briskly after
Topping off her glass with
Vodka from a bottle by the bed.
“Bad champagne,” she excused herself,
“In Europe, babies drink this stuff.”
I studied the bottle –
Beau Joie Brut Special Cuvée –
“Brute” champagne
Sharpened me like
Winter air when you can
See farther, fly further
Or think that you can.
Mirabel offered her bottle.
“No thanks.”
And drained her tulip glass
And spoke my words.
”You’ve changed,” she commented.
Did I drink vodka at eight years old?
I said, “So have you.”
“My hair hated being blonde.”
“Is he really a lord?”
Mirabel rolled her eyes.
“Unfortunately.” At my surprise she added –
“It’s a cruel trick if
You can’t do anything you want.”
Shrugged.
“At least the restaurants like it.”
“And you’ll be –“
“Lady Verne.”
Unexcited at the prospect.
Opposite of what
Old Mirabel would have thought
She followed the doings & undoings of
European princelings in
Vogue magazine.
I probed deeper.
“You just met?”
“God no, we’ve been together FOREVER –
And only now we tie the knot. But you!”
She spun me all around.
“You’re so tall! And thin!”
I found myself apologizing.
“I can’t stop eating –
“I must grow so fast because I eat
Whatever I can find.”
“After the wedding,”
Mirabel promised
“We’ll do a purge.”
Sounds like a great honeymoon
I thought but didn’t say.
She was not making out a
Great campaign for aristocracy &
Marriage.
“Think you’d fit a four?”
The dress she flourished was pale gold,
A fairytale gown with an endlessly flounced
Puffy skirt. My gasp
Relaxed her. And she smiled.
Most beautiful dress I’d ever seen.
“Let’s find out!” I
Almost dropped my wineglass in
Excitement. Rapidly
Stripped to totally unsightly sports bra
And cartoon briefs.
I knew we’d try on clothes
But I owned no decent lingerie.
“Can’t wear a bra,” said Mirabel.
“You don’t need one anyway.
I’ll cinch you in.”
She gazed too long at my sad breasts
A man’s gaze I thought –
This dress had ribbons for corset strings
and Mirabel cinched me tight.
“There!” The mirror exposed a stranger.
I was a new person.
“A little short, maybe” said Mirabel,
“With the right shoes…”
From the closet she threw out flats.
Disappointing – but –
Bridesmaid shouldn’t tower over bride!
Maid of honor harnessing
The clashing egos!
In weird familial telepathy
Mirabel said,
“Princess Richenda
To the Dark Tower came.
Just like in the
Tarot cards.”
In the mirror
I admired my nude
Beribboned back.
“How about your dress?”
“You’ve seen it.”
It was like the breath went out of her.
She tossed it out – they were identical.
How could that be?
Wasn’t that too strange?
I was gobsmacked –
Never heard of bride and bridesmaid
Wearing the same dress –
Think of the confusing pictures –
People getting entirely
Wrong ideas.
Sounds like bad luck-
Guaranteeing
The groom will see the gown
Before they’re hitched
If you believe in that sort of thing.
Mirabel’s dress was
Smaller – size “zero” –
Competitive,
Combative Mirabel.
She knocked my phone right out of my hand –
“No pictures till the wedding.”
Her pressured speech rushed on –
“We’ve got to dress for dinner.”
She checked her phone.
“What will you wear?”
I looked embarrassed at my
Corduroy skirt
Discarded like a
Shriveled carapace along the floor.
Mirabel threw open mirrored
Doors to reveal another bedroom –
This one stocked with girlish stuff.
“This room is yours -”
She told me –
“He’s staying at The Stanhope.”
I blushed – I don’t know why
He’d called it “his” place –
And these closets were packed
With Mirabel clothes so
Where did I fit in?
My sister unbound my dress –
I’m not used to
Clothes that need assistants.
“You can borrow anything.”
Tossed out a slinky gown green with
Scales that matched my eyes
Still with price tags –
I’d never had a dress this costly.
No bra here either –
I dangerously chose heels that made me
Six feet tall – but Mirabel
Didn’t seem to mind –
She gave me smoky eye, nude mouth and
Emerald glitter.
“Verne hates lipstick.”
But she wore plenty –
Cherry red to match her dress –
I felt lucky anyway
To be transformed.
Now I was an impostor too.
“He’s waiting at the Stanhope Bar.”
-
The Missing Bride – a mystery by Alysse Aallyn
Chapter 2 – @Valerian
Once Mom had exited
I fell contentedly into
Wondering:
Who would Mirabel be now?
When I turned ten
I followed her face &
Body through
Inter-space but in
Three long years
But there’s been nothing to see.
I fully comprehend
That shiny airbrushed people
Don’t resemble that really. But
Mirabel was always gorgeous;
Swimming through some
Different air; her
Huge eyes and Roman nose teased & promising
Cavernous depths of soul.
We all want to believe that beautiful people
Get everything they want out of life;
Otherwise what’s the point –
Yet the Mirabel I’d known
Deliberately evaded us;
Abjuring the fold
Unless needing something.
At eight years old I had learned
She was a mysterious gift-giver
Like Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy
In whom it would be unwise to
Believe.
So, as my train slid into the darkness
Of Grand Central tunnel I texted the number
They gave me with “Train on time” &
Happiness emoji.
Of course I wanted to delete it
Immediately;
But as the sole bridesmaid –
Wasn’t I
The real Maid of Honor?
Obligated to planning
If not excitement but
No response from Mirabel.
Someone called
“@Valerian” tweeted: “I’m meeting you.
M. otherwise occupied as usual.
Look for red hunting coat.”
Who was Valerian? Where was Mirabel?
Did fiancé have charge of her phone?
Possibly he cloned it;
My friend Derek does that.
Forced fresh perspective:
If parents had known
There wasn’t a Mirabel
Would they let me come?
That was the emotion Mirabel engendered
I well remembered –
She was a genius at
Preparing the faithful –
“Softening us up”
For future hard times.
This means never forthrightly
Telling those Inconvenient truths.
As the train lurched to stop I vaulted upwards
Greeting myself in the
Mirroring windows. The girl
“Valerian” would see
Passable in gray skirt, shiny thigh high
Pink leather boots, subtly highlighted
Nut brown hair. Nothing to compete
With Mirabel’s blond goddess-hood.
Free from Mom’s diminishing thumb
I could exaggerate my eyes –
Outline my cheekbones
Use lips to suggest
Goddess potential all my own.
The sight of my made-up face
Makes me feel hopeful.
I didn’t answer that text:
Stranger-Danger ever-present;
If I didn’t like the look of him
I could Uber myself –
Once I knew where I was going.
I bet on my chances;
There were other girls on this train –
I had a hat and sunglasses
I’ve been melting into crowds
Once I learned how to walk.
Problem; my idiot mother
Sent pictures
Proud as she was –
Cross-eyed in her fearfulness –
If he was the one trying to
Friend me –
He’d already seen me grow up.
Ugh!
How the past follows us!
Tortures us; cramping our style!
How I long to be known
Yet forever undiscovered
Wild virginal territory
The better to project myself
Into the brains of others –
Ultimate Observer.
I’m aware
It makes no damn sense
To wish for admiration and
A the same time
Disappear – could it be
We’re all the stalkers of our dreams?
Threw diary, book, magazine
Into my capacious carpet-bag –
Diaries take one
Only so far –
Scribble scribble
Ratcheting up while
Tamping down
All the sharp points of life.
Fell rather than walked
Down ungainly steps and My God
There he was-
Guarding the escalators, in his famous
Red coat.
Mirabel would NEVER come
Way down here
“To the tracks” –
Hoi polloi, déclassé –
But this sharp face looked eager
Gladdening to see me.
Was he
A sight for eyes too young to be sore?
Tall physique; you’d say
“Distinguished,” but
Foreign looking, really, in spite of
American jeans and that red down parka.
The closer I got the more
Startlingly handsome appeared
That knife-planed face –
Curly undisciplined black hair –
Couldn’t stare long because
He grinned at the sight of me.
No possibility of escape –
Nor desire really
Wasn’t this more fun
Than forging some raw
Uncomfortable relation with
The long-lost sister?
-
Purrsiflage – Welcome to Your Daily Cat Zen with Alysse Aallyn
Feb 21
When You Wake Up This Morning – You realize, the future weighs on you. Will you be found wanting?
This is a Message from the Multiverse – these oppressive anxieties match with universal preoccupations. The planets slow when we don’t acknowledge their power. Let’s make friends with our anxieties. Uncertainly beleaguers us. Is there a way to divine the future?
Consult Your Dreams. The Number One question people have about dreams is, Are they prophetic? And the answer is of course YES. We KNOW the “truth’. We fear the truth. We don’t want to face the truth. We tremble at the continuing “losses” of age because the accretions are so hard to see. But our dreams – and the collective unconscious – KNOW what is going on. We are weaving straw into gold on a daily basis, transmuting the physical into the spiritual.
Dreams are also Art, and art – especially good art – is as forcefully mysterious, meaningful and evocative as any living thing. It changes as you change. It changes depending on how you look at it.
If Purrsons Need Truth. Purrsons Must Accept Revelation – Dreams tell us when to be afraid. Dreams warn when something is missing. Dreams uncover all the secrets you have been keeping from yourself.
The First Obligation : Purrsons Accept is that the truth will set you free. The second, is that although it can be terrifying, the truth is necessary. Purrsons spurn the hiding, lying, misrepresentation, that substitutes for truth.
Purrsons Can Handle the Truth – We are human, we are imperfect, and we need each other. Humans need governance and law to regulate our natural blindness and selfishness (which some would call original sin) into peaceful accord. The truth also is also that humans who lust only for power will eternally angle to get themselves into positions of control, exclusion and punishment. These impulses must be identified and weeded out and it is courageous, difficult, and really unwelcome work, because we Purrsons, we loving, generous Purrsons also have our own lives to live.
Purrson Danger – Our dreams notify us when one of these lethal persons is in our midst. Our maps & models offer a variety of plans for confrontation and escape, and a recipe for courage. At the present time, the Lethal Persons are banding together and hoarding weapons to give themselves even more guarantees for power and opportunities to welcome our despair.
Purrson Promise – Jesus said evil will not win. The challenge is to explore what ELSE he said, indeed, what is the message of all the great teachers? People who tell you to hate one another and go to war with one another are agents of evil. The first challenge is to create peace in our own hearts, peace in our own lives, peace in our own homes, and then start developing compassion for those who are not so lucky.
When Brutal Tactics and Empty Promises are Exposed as family destroyers, peace destroyers and community destroyers, we see clearly that efforts to spread and share despair come from an innate desire to surmount despair, but also that this has never worked and is not working. It allows the torturer (and the tortured) only the briefest respites. Only when the goal of increasing world suffering is finally given up can we welcome penitents back into the communion of equality.
Models & Mentors – “We write the future moment to moment” – Pema Chodron
“The best prophets lead you up to the curtain and leave you to peer through for yourself” – Frank Herbert
“The greatest thing a human soul can accomplish in this world is to see that poetry, prophecy & religion all are one”– John Ruskin
“The best way to predict the future is to create it”– Abraham Lincoln
“Yesterday has gone, tomorrow has not come, let us begin” – Mother Teresa
-
The Book of You – Haiku Diary by Alysse Aallyn
#Haiku: What Lies Beneath
Shocked pond
Won’t settle. I’m
Alert for
Deep reveals –
Clearing –
Wait –
See –
Know
-
The Book of You – Haiku Diary by Alysse Aallyn
#Haiku: Wildflowers
Immaculate
Gardens
Night-side
Fantasize wilderness
Ravishment
Alysse Aallyn 