Scandal in the Canyon
TOPANGA, CAJASMINE was the new girl in the woods and everyone in the little town square knew it the moment she stepped foot inside her hidden hills abode. It was a town full of artist’s but JASMINE was something different all together. With one glance, you could see the star gazed future behind her hazel eyes. With one breath, you could feel she had more than the world wrapped around her fingers, she had you. JASMINE was the kind of woman who moved mountains with one bat of her spider leg like, black as night, eyelashes.
JASMINE was a sight to be seen and her radiance reflected, standing two feet away and two solar systems ago. She was the lady amongst the moonlight, standing at the edge of your bedroom door and the tragedies that lived beneath your white knuckled fingers. The ones that yearned to touch her below the belt and the ones that begged to hold her at the neck.
JASMINE had been to hell before she had ever been loved. JASMINE was the talk of the town with one foot forward and two steps backward. JASMINE didn’t need crystals, dogmas or dried flower rituals to swoon and swirl, she danced with wild horses at sunrise and tangoed with the hearts of men all across the winding road that lead you to this point in time.
JASMINE bought a place at the certainty of sanity and balanced bliss, a wooden sculpture of home lodging that sat between who knew and how could you on Vision Drive.
The small winding road off the coast of the medium winding road after you’ve left the main winding road. JASMINE never knew where she was in the world, it didn’t matter nor bother to know. JASMINE didn’t need a god to tell her how to live, she was born of innate senses of wonder - religion came with her bloodlines. You didn’t ask her what she believed in, you felt the answer was all of the above and what’s below.
JASMINE died for love at every cup of coffee. She’s hasn’t had a good night sleep in ages, the witching hours before dawn are when she talks to the goons, goblins, ghosts, souls and spirits of love passing by and loved one’s living in the past.
JASMINE was a woman of the world with a set of spare keys, who‘s only fit were heaven’s haven on topanga canyon, sitting in the same palm of fingers that held her black diamond, center placed gold ring. With five fingers and the cupping of golden locks, she had everything she needed to renew the world of it’s glory and love with all her graces.
JASMINE was a ladies woman and a man’s quaking night terror - the image recurring in your sweet, deadly dreams. JASMINE’s beauty was so painfully existed, her lungs collapse before her heart of a lion can be pierced by unfortunate circumstances and harmful sayings of overdue apologies.
JASMINE stood amongst the birds, bees, flowers and trees and held two middle fingers to the sky before beginning her new world adventure of sights, sees, and visions for a town cast by one wand only and a love so pure. One glance of a freckle on the side of her goldenly tanned, sicilian-bred, olive skinned arms and you fell to a speck of dust’s existence.
JASMINE was in love with everyone she met. Her only curse, and god’s greatest blessing. She couldn’t help herself. Love was all she ever thought about and it showed in every pore and showering of galatic stars in the night’s daily darkness. JASMINE coloured the pitch black sky with pink, blues and yellow hues before she bled red in public. JASMINE was the womanly figure the bible promised our land when they first mentioned Eve, Mary and Grace.
JASMINE was a lie and what happened next, only one man would know, if he was lucky enough to know a woman like
JASMINE.
• • •
It was Sunday in the canyon. JASMINE woke up alone, as she’s done the last seven years. She looked out the window and gave a morning look to the trees now appearing in all their colors after the night casted their silhouettes. She made her way up the wooden stairs and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her thoughts came in soft, gentle waves of cerebral knowings. She let them wade in the waters of her unconscious, it was too early to be mindful. It was better to be mindless. She grabbed her poured cup of coffee and walked back down the wooden stairs, through the sliding door that stood between her bed and the trees and she took her seat on a wooden bench. She took a breath and sat back, like an audience member the forests were her theater, she gazed out at the horizon and awaited the show’s beginning.
Of course, the cosmos play started long before she woke, long before she existed. It wasn’t every morning she got to sit at the foot of the stage. Some morning she was rushed to leave, or pushed to run, or too mushed to move. This morning was different. It was the end of her mind’s love affair and the beginning of a new reality. It was christ on a cross being named for the first and final time. Isn’t that how the story goes? she thought to herself as the thoughts began to bubble up with every breath between sips. It was just her, her mind, her coffee and the show of the world; the nature in love.
It was time to kill off her favorite muse. The one she was assured was the other me in a world of you’s. Without the thought of him, she’d have no body of work to show. It would all be meaningless. Yet, she was trapped with the wisdom of the cosmos. It was one of the first questions she unknowingly knew to ask. Oh, how the mind works in mysterious ways. We are always given what we need when we need it. She saw it in the shape of stars that made her, me and you, the other me. The first rule of the cosmic order is that we must have free will.
We cannot force the fate of god’s onto another. We all choose our own destiny. That’s what led to the burning of the books and the rise of the Roman Church. To believe in the sky and stars above, we must remain human on land. We have the right of choice, we choose what we do with our time down here. It was all the same to end up with the other me on my dark knight radar. He waltzed in like the king of heart’s he knew he was. Without a clue as to who she was, he was smitten by her cleverness to thinking freely. He felt what she felt. She knew the wisdom of the stars, he fell to his knees at the first poem’s verse. She was so sure, she didn’t think what trouble might come her way. She was a fool and fearless with her love. She had waited for seven years, sleeping on throne, alone.
It was all the same to lose you, the same way the one before lost her. With a gaze too beautiful to be true and a body of harmonic stature and a mind so brilliant the star’s twinkle is humiliated at the sight of the other me. We were too mighty to be real and too good to be true. You exit the same way the one before lost her - with hushed sounds and whispers not sent. Like a ghost who never fully arrived, hidden in plain sight.
JASMINE was a sight to be seen and her radiance reflected, standing two feet away and two solar systems ago. She was the lady amongst the moonlight, standing at the edge of your bedroom door and the tragedies that lived beneath your white knuckled fingers. The ones that yearned to touch her below the belt and the ones that begged to hold her at the neck.
JASMINE had been to hell before she had ever been loved. JASMINE was the talk of the town with one foot forward and two steps backward. JASMINE didn’t need crystals, dogmas or dried flower rituals to swoon and swirl, she danced with wild horses at sunrise and tangoed with the hearts of men all across the winding road that lead you to this point in time.
JASMINE bought a place at the certainty of sanity and balanced bliss, a wooden sculpture of home lodging that sat between who knew and how could you on Vision Drive.
The small winding road off the coast of the medium winding road after you’ve left the main winding road. JASMINE never knew where she was in the world, it didn’t matter nor bother to know. JASMINE didn’t need a god to tell her how to live, she was born of innate senses of wonder - religion came with her bloodlines. You didn’t ask her what she believed in, you felt the answer was all of the above and what’s below.
JASMINE died for love at every cup of coffee. She’s hasn’t had a good night sleep in ages, the witching hours before dawn are when she talks to the goons, goblins, ghosts, souls and spirits of love passing by and loved one’s living in the past.
JASMINE was a woman of the world with a set of spare keys, who‘s only fit were heaven’s haven on topanga canyon, sitting in the same palm of fingers that held her black diamond, center placed gold ring. With five fingers and the cupping of golden locks, she had everything she needed to renew the world of it’s glory and love with all her graces.
JASMINE was a ladies woman and a man’s quaking night terror - the image recurring in your sweet, deadly dreams. JASMINE’s beauty was so painfully existed, her lungs collapse before her heart of a lion can be pierced by unfortunate circumstances and harmful sayings of overdue apologies.
JASMINE stood amongst the birds, bees, flowers and trees and held two middle fingers to the sky before beginning her new world adventure of sights, sees, and visions for a town cast by one wand only and a love so pure. One glance of a freckle on the side of her goldenly tanned, sicilian-bred, olive skinned arms and you fell to a speck of dust’s existence.
JASMINE was in love with everyone she met. Her only curse, and god’s greatest blessing. She couldn’t help herself. Love was all she ever thought about and it showed in every pore and showering of galatic stars in the night’s daily darkness. JASMINE coloured the pitch black sky with pink, blues and yellow hues before she bled red in public. JASMINE was the womanly figure the bible promised our land when they first mentioned Eve, Mary and Grace.
JASMINE was a lie and what happened next, only one man would know, if he was lucky enough to know a woman like
JASMINE.
• • •
It was Sunday in the canyon. JASMINE woke up alone, as she’s done the last seven years. She looked out the window and gave a morning look to the trees now appearing in all their colors after the night casted their silhouettes. She made her way up the wooden stairs and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her thoughts came in soft, gentle waves of cerebral knowings. She let them wade in the waters of her unconscious, it was too early to be mindful. It was better to be mindless. She grabbed her poured cup of coffee and walked back down the wooden stairs, through the sliding door that stood between her bed and the trees and she took her seat on a wooden bench. She took a breath and sat back, like an audience member the forests were her theater, she gazed out at the horizon and awaited the show’s beginning.
Of course, the cosmos play started long before she woke, long before she existed. It wasn’t every morning she got to sit at the foot of the stage. Some morning she was rushed to leave, or pushed to run, or too mushed to move. This morning was different. It was the end of her mind’s love affair and the beginning of a new reality. It was christ on a cross being named for the first and final time. Isn’t that how the story goes? she thought to herself as the thoughts began to bubble up with every breath between sips. It was just her, her mind, her coffee and the show of the world; the nature in love.
It was time to kill off her favorite muse. The one she was assured was the other me in a world of you’s. Without the thought of him, she’d have no body of work to show. It would all be meaningless. Yet, she was trapped with the wisdom of the cosmos. It was one of the first questions she unknowingly knew to ask. Oh, how the mind works in mysterious ways. We are always given what we need when we need it. She saw it in the shape of stars that made her, me and you, the other me. The first rule of the cosmic order is that we must have free will.
We cannot force the fate of god’s onto another. We all choose our own destiny. That’s what led to the burning of the books and the rise of the Roman Church. To believe in the sky and stars above, we must remain human on land. We have the right of choice, we choose what we do with our time down here. It was all the same to end up with the other me on my dark knight radar. He waltzed in like the king of heart’s he knew he was. Without a clue as to who she was, he was smitten by her cleverness to thinking freely. He felt what she felt. She knew the wisdom of the stars, he fell to his knees at the first poem’s verse. She was so sure, she didn’t think what trouble might come her way. She was a fool and fearless with her love. She had waited for seven years, sleeping on throne, alone.
It was all the same to lose you, the same way the one before lost her. With a gaze too beautiful to be true and a body of harmonic stature and a mind so brilliant the star’s twinkle is humiliated at the sight of the other me. We were too mighty to be real and too good to be true. You exit the same way the one before lost her - with hushed sounds and whispers not sent. Like a ghost who never fully arrived, hidden in plain sight.