Beyond Heaven

“BEYOND HEAVEN”

By Sheb Schebella

Somewhere past the green fields, up and around the bend

In to the mountains and then

Across the sea far past safe anchorage

Beyond even the imagination of the heavens

I find my love for the

Nestled in a guild edged invitation fashioned like a hug

I find my presence of serenity wash over me like topic rain

The quiet parting of are lips

The warmth of are hidden breath

The casting of are shadows on the wall

Disguised as one by flickering candle light

The soft sound of rain as it bounces on the timber roof

Is replaced by the softness of your eye lashes

Brushing against my cheek

Your polished nails glide across my olive skin

Coming to rest in the small of my back

It is here I then feel us as if two oceans meat.

The clashing, the swirling, the mixing, the sensation

The churning of our love set deep within each of us

The calm after the storm

The taste of salt is welcomed

The aroma of the air is sweet

Are bodies fall limp

Tangled if not pooled

Do not allow others to come and part us

Do not allow the tide to pull us in different directions

Comfort me when I am weak as I shall do for you

Live inside of me as I will live in you

Sit behind my eyes as I shall sit behind yours

We will see what the other sees

And understand what the other needs

When insecurities present themselves

And comfort each other in our moment of confusion

Let us not carelessly give away are love

To be drowned into the sea

One love

You & Me

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

Once Upon A Moment

“Once Upon a Moment”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

There she stood upon the earth, battered and scarred as she stared up into the stars. Not one wish was she willing to make, only grateful to still be awake to witness a comet go soaring by. She took my hand as she began to cry and spoke “It was a thousand years ago on this day I felt if I had died.” In silence I listened as I remembered Halley’s Comet coming in December of 1985, I was out at sea sailing alone; in 2061 I may if I am around see it again. She clinched my hand tighter and whispered “There it goes and now there it is gone.” I replied while letting out a soft sigh “Fleeting.” She turned toward me and kissed my cheek, she was the kindest of kind little freaks. The world is a strange place, people even more strange, yet within them there are grand little gifts that they will allow you to unwrap slowly if you are patient enough to travel the labyrinth of their mind and color within the lines. When she told me that she had died a thousand years ago on that day I had no Idea at the time what she truly was conveying to me, but she did not expect me to understand. She merely needed another human to hear her voice, a firm hand to hold, another warm soul. She soon pulled me to the ground after the comet vanished and as we sat she opened her backpack and pulled a half filled bottle of red like a rabbit from a hat. She handed it to me and with my teeth I pulled the cork and handed back to her. She sat crossed legged and took a long healthy pull from the bottle, then set it loosely between her thighs. I then lay back slowly with my hands folded behind my head and whispered “A thousand years from this day I shall be dead, but tonight I am very alive.” She did not answer she was lost, lost in the stars, lost in her wine. Nothing was perfect, well except her ass which was hidden in the grass, but for that one particular moment we shared, we where both at peace with the world, at peace in our minds. The night did not belong to either of us, it was just a small gift that was shared with us, and a memory to have forever and the day after that should there be such a time and place. I wanted to write a love poem, but then realized I did not have to, I was living it.　

I Love In The World I Live

“I LOVE IN THE WORLD I LIVE”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

I live in world where people are kind, where there’s always room for one more and the child with the dirtiest cheeks eats first. I live in a world that when I wake I feel a touch, then a kiss before I hear words; and then those words are “I love you.” I live in a world where sometimes I am ahead and other times I am behind, but I know the race is only with myself. I live in a world where people find it easier to say that they love then to you say “Fuck you.” I live in a world where a tough rugged man carries a gentle heart. I live in a world where men understand that if you can not love flowers, then you could never love a child. I live in a world where a woman makes sure that I am reminded how much I am loved. I live in a world where love is defended at any cost, where actions speak louder then words. I live in a world where lovers are never taken for granted. I live in a world where a friend is a shared treasurer. I live in a world where I am loved unconditionally by the woman whom I love. I live in a world where the only love is blind love for me there is no other kind. I live in a world where sometimes I have visitors, whom lack the gift of an eye for uncommon beauty; they seldom stay for they know their bullshit will not be bought. I live in a world where people are not reckless with another person’s heart. I live in a world where a smile never goes out of style and
Peanut Butter & Banana sandwiches are a delicacy fit for a King.
I love in the world I live in, simply because I love you.

IF IT CAN’T FIT ON A SNOW FLAKE I DON’T NEED IT

IF IT CAN’T FIT ON A SNOW FLAKE

I DON’T NEED IT

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

I laid in bed well, on the couch last night actually looking out the bay window watching the snow fall. I didn’t want to be anywhere else psychologically, my serenity was topped off. I however could not stop thinking that know matter how much snow falls or how many snow flakes I see it will never equal the amount of information in a double helix. I can not grasp the full meaning of life anymore than I can grasp the concept of God. I do know that at any given moment that I can alter my course; completely change the existence of my tomorrow. It is amazing the choices I have to write the up coming chapters of my life. Granted I shall never know the out comes of any redirection but, I do control the cast of characters for the most part, and I can set the stage and theme the script. It truly is amazing the amount of power a person has over there life, simply by channeling there energy towards there conquest. Sometimes I wonder if I can believe in evolution and God, I believe I can but, I can not actually explain it. I simply just accept that it could be, evolution is impossible for me to dismiss but then again so is the presence of God; in the end it will not matter what I believe, I will know or I will not know. The one thing I can do until I am confronted with such things is just continue to improve the quality of my life and to help others improve theirs. I do feel however that there are subjects that should be over analyzed and researched. I wonder at times what type of believe system I would have if no one ever spoke to me of God or spoke to me about Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. I wonder if I did not know of these things I have mentioned what my Free Will would be like or if I even recognized I had free will. Would life have a deep meaning if I knew nothing of God or Evolution? Religion does not give me comfort, for me it only reminds me of suffering, a fantasy story that turned horribly nightmarish, but evolution never let me down. I do at times feel what I define the presence of a higher power, something greater than myself, which I choose to call good. To me religion should be more of an appetizer more so than an entrée. To me religion is dark in its brightest light.
The snowflakes keep falling and not one of them the same in structure but yet once they land they all bond together nicely and make up something very beautiful, something they could not do on there own.

TIP TOEING ON THE EDGE

TIP TOEING ON THE EDGE

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

Barefoot but not naked, standing on the edge; stretched out arms into what some only see as emptiness, or perhaps the undefined obis. What others may see makes no difference to me. They look into the eyes and see madness, a man tip toeing to close to the edge. Are these people afraid of living or afraid of how I live? Perhaps the answer is both; perhaps these people are jealous because they do not know how to squeeze water from a rock. Whatever these people think makes no difference to me. My life is my own, some may say I am reckless, some may call me a fool, some may love to love me but, will only be able to do so from afar, some will sip me by the thimble full and it will hold in their memory for a life time, while others will bath within me by the gallon until they get their fill; then they will slowly walk backwards tip toeing back from the edge and then and only then from a safe distance shall they watch me from afar, watch me with my arms stretched out, reaching for what they wish they could see. Blind love will be what I shall always wrap my arms around and I shall do so as it suits me.

Barefoot but not naked, standing on the edge; stretched out arms into what some only see as emptiness, or perhaps the undefined obis, wishing somewhere inside they could see what I see or perhaps even wanting for a moment to sit behind my eyes, but there will be others who wish to witness only madness, it makes no difference to me what they see.

Barefoot but not naked, standing on the edge with stretched out arms guided only by blind love.

NEPTUNE THE MAILMAN

“NEPTUNE THE MAILMAN”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

Down along the seashore, ankle deep in cool sand, I witness the waves roll in & roll out, carrying with them love letters in bottles off to distant lands. I see these bottles come and go, where they are addressed I do not know. Dreams, prayers and promises are left to be delivered by Neptune’s hand, laugh I may, but in reality Neptune may as well be the Mailman; for he will give you just as good of odds as any other God to fall in love in any land. Standing ankle deep in cool sand on the shore, staring out into the sea there is no bottle today for me. Perhaps I will check again tomorrow, but I will not wallow in sorrow, nor fret in discontent for there is plenty of adventure left yet; but there is a sadness of sort that lingers every time I gaze upon the sea and I can’t help but wonder, will there ever be a bottle there for me…

A Tawdry Time

In the post-traumatic “Men are Pigs & Women are Just Nasty when there hairy & the World is a filthy place without Wet-Wipes” syndrome, in comes the holiday season like an ill placed hand grenade too ones own ass. I find the holiday season to be Happy, Sad, Depressing, Uplifting, Spiritual and at times tawdry. “Tawdry” I like that word I don’t get the opportunity to use is much, it’s even fun to say. Go ahead do it with me “TAH-DREE”, fun wasn’t it? I believe that what ever one may feel during the holiday season we can all come to a strong axiom that it’s just exceptionally fucking tawdry time of year even if you’re pooping jingle bells. My brother actually pooped a jingle bell once in the winter of 71’ three days before Christmas. My mother actually ended up stitching the bell back on to my oldest sisters stocking that hung over the mantel in which he had gotten it from, even at the age of 4 I found this disturbing. In 1971 my two siblings and myself got coal in our stockings that Christmas, not because we where naughty, but simply because my mother forgot to get some candy snacks to fill the stockings. Where the hell she ever found the coal was beyond me, perhaps they where charcoal brickets for barbequing, either way it was a tawdry event. In 1975 my youngest sister was born, that was the first Christmas I got drunk on eggnog and the first time I found away to relieve myself of tawdry details. My Christmas of 1978 was pretty cool it was the first year and only year that I got a cartoon of non-filtered Camels gift wrapped under the tree. My name ended up on the cigarettes by accident, but that did not keep me from smoking a few camels and dipping into the eggnog again that year. I find this blog becoming a tad tawdry to write, but you get the idea. I avoid tawdry holidays now by not wishing I had the powers of an angel but simply being contently cozy in the presence of them.
Tawdry origin: 1605–15; short for (Saint) Audrey lace, i.e., neck lace bought at St. Audrey's Fair in Ely, England; so called after St. Audrey (OE Aethelthry d. 679), Northumbrian queen and patron saint of Ely, who, according to tradition, died of a throat tumor which she considered just punishment of her youthful liking for neck laces̄th,