http://quizilla.teennick.com/quizzes/102022/which-personality-disorder-do-you-haveThank goodness for poetry. This isn't as bad as it sounds. I swear!
About Me
Copyright Information
All works on this site are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Muse (III)
At last, her spirit leaves me,
The humming, whirring copper cogs,
That life of mine- cast
where it lights that world beyond,
where her eyes are finer
than any pearl in measured light
my single heart could give.
She leaves me my magic,
A stern delusion, keeping me,
To see just beyond
where the pale water, branching,
can still carry us both.
Muse (II)
There she lies, unconcerned,
More lofty than the moon
for all she can never see-
in the deep depths of stars,
in this singular mask of night.
So far away, there
My sanctuary here,
The face that paints
the crystalline bite, the wind
in every word I write!
Still, faster the wings fly,
Faster the steadfast soul
of a time long misplaced-
Cooler blows the cloak,
So heavy around my heart
where sculptures live forever!
For a moment, I see
my whole world lifted,
A shard of glass,
Into that stream, that
other world of light-
A sky of watery pearls
closer than the elven-faced stars.
Muse (I)
Crisp wings of time, pulled
thin on rice paper skeletons
left in collecting jars,
Still fly past.
They await me, each nerve
a stroke of misplaced flourish,
Each artery beneath hard temples
pounding, pouring lines
like streams of water,
forcing through me,
and I am transparent.
Rushing through my filthy hands,
Ripping past the ragged spots, damned,
They wield pearls of light, lanterns
in liquid trickle- to another world.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Little Tokyo
It started with boxes
Alien, knotted silk presents,
Stiff and climbing petal-drops
Clinging to havens lost.
What's left to hold
the mother's soul,
facing the changing horizon?
She started with a new world-
A pilgrimage hastily made safe,
then, undone
Behind an unchanged face,
Still beautiful after this.
Now she blooms in empty halls-
A lady in stained glass,
Behind the empty windows-
Her calligraphy of shadows.
Still masked, she holds firm
The casualties of smiling war.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
I Follow the Moon
Not to worry not to fret
my love tells me,
As she brings her world forth.
I lift mine eyes to her sacred sky,
Pulsing with ripples, slowing
winter winds falling to a still pond;
She divines in me, fills my will,
And so my heart shakes-
All light is harsh, dead
'gainst her hands in my soul.
One by one, they come forth-
The chieftainesses with diamond feet,
Their gowns bright with sulphur
trailing in an unmined sky,
Every corner of it proudly held-
The nations of light, their names
etched in the reels they dance,
The dust in sharp petals
left where they turn their heels.
And it is then, in the music,
My soul is ensnared, my being full
in open surrender unfurled, held
against my love's embrace of sky.
Sky of November
The first chill sways in me
My heavy, suspended sunset,
A canvas well marked, yet
More transparent than the wind.
I let them go together-
My last light, and the wind,
For they each live to string
The other’s hollow songs.
Like beads on thread, they live
On the round, cascading necklaces,
A bright, frigid web casting endlessly
At the stars of the light-rent sky.
They hold me, thank me
Before blowing through meager breasts
In hopes of mine- the lost souls
Of theirs and the dying noon.
I am left, pale, truly last in line,
Enshrouded in the wind that stays,
In the last, who bestowed on me
His memories of day.
Those that have me, the hollow hearts
Where my wind and my light
Struggle to thread-
They are more alone than I.
They have not even my sunset,
Only the wind, my wind,
Infused with stolen roses
Which make plain dreams wild.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Nanowrimo 2010
Woot woot! Once again, I did a ton of last minute stuff, but that's what makes it fun!
Yellow- I wrote, but didn't meet the "1666 words a day, every day" quota that's needed to reach 50,000.
Red- I didn't write at all.
Green- I met, or exceeded the"1666 words a day, every day" quota.
As you can see, I barely wrote on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. Actually, I never wrote on a Wednesday! In conclusion, it's a crazy, stressful challenge, but it's not as crazy of a challenge as it seems! Looking back, it did consume my time, but I was able to do lots of other things too.
Despite the novel schedule, I did manage to write poetry. I'll probably post it later, because I need to submit it for something important soon. 
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
To Claim the Sky
The cathedral of sky empties of prayers
When a pilgrim is wary of the ground again,
Who tiptoes its echoing vaults of wind,
Arched solid as the rains descend.
In the halls of sun, the houses of days,
With twilights burning along the wall,
All is drawn behind the night,
Storming, should one faithful fall.
The darkness is young, wiry of wit,
For raindrops pass in hoods of mist,
Lusting for the gold, the grime
The faithless donned in shadows kissed.
Felled phoenix, daunted in the clear,
The steeple appears long-painted past,
Who is to know the bells still toll
Lest a neighbor lends a feather, at last?
When a pilgrim is wary of the ground again,
Who tiptoes its echoing vaults of wind,
Arched solid as the rains descend.
In the halls of sun, the houses of days,
With twilights burning along the wall,
All is drawn behind the night,
Storming, should one faithful fall.
The darkness is young, wiry of wit,
For raindrops pass in hoods of mist,
Lusting for the gold, the grime
The faithless donned in shadows kissed.
Felled phoenix, daunted in the clear,
The steeple appears long-painted past,
Who is to know the bells still toll
Lest a neighbor lends a feather, at last?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Silence
A constant gift in every ear
The oldest volumes be,
Read, and read, and read, (and read)
Till greater than the sea.
Replace one, and another comes,
The sweet wind's shawl to slide.
Lighting seeps the flame of frost,
The crackling forever plied.
Hold it close to you, and listen
Coldest where its secrets lie,
An ancient spell of purest words
Deserving no reply.
Try it one, as you may,
Choke, sputter, and see,
Through strongest spirits, on it flows
Yet no one's master be.
The oldest volumes be,
Read, and read, and read, (and read)
Till greater than the sea.
Replace one, and another comes,
The sweet wind's shawl to slide.
Lighting seeps the flame of frost,
The crackling forever plied.
Hold it close to you, and listen
Coldest where its secrets lie,
An ancient spell of purest words
Deserving no reply.
Try it one, as you may,
Choke, sputter, and see,
Through strongest spirits, on it flows
Yet no one's master be.
Remnants
Suppose I
could.
Suppose I could shake the longest, dryest of waiting tears until I'd never cry again, losing my reluctant love where it finds someone perfectly happy.
I smile, keep, keep walking, and it is gone. My dearest, my very last resistance, gone.
Watching.
Suspended in the sorrow that overtakes the wind for a long, long while, waiting, sitting on the meager shadows of rising and falling night and day. The cycle gets heavy, watching her dull, scratched reflection on the sea.
From far away, a tree grows where the sad little shame had been, already staining, bridging every little star to the sun and never, ever stopping. Built on tears, where the salt became the sand and the rolling, twisting sob burrowed deep and right through the rock, it wrinkles in disgust at the blushing sunset, and does not know how to smile.
Star to star, branches tip close as they can. To the others, they say. As long as this tree is here, no one shall fall, ever again. As long as this is here, every dreamer may walk forth, merry, on this thin, thin ice of a night.
Soon, there shall be a forever, stronger than the others, the little one hopes.
I shall touch where my master failed, and I shall glow in the night.
For all the dreamers, to sit where I break into the glassy night, I stay.
could.
Suppose I could shake the longest, dryest of waiting tears until I'd never cry again, losing my reluctant love where it finds someone perfectly happy.
I smile, keep, keep walking, and it is gone. My dearest, my very last resistance, gone.
Watching.
Suspended in the sorrow that overtakes the wind for a long, long while, waiting, sitting on the meager shadows of rising and falling night and day. The cycle gets heavy, watching her dull, scratched reflection on the sea.
From far away, a tree grows where the sad little shame had been, already staining, bridging every little star to the sun and never, ever stopping. Built on tears, where the salt became the sand and the rolling, twisting sob burrowed deep and right through the rock, it wrinkles in disgust at the blushing sunset, and does not know how to smile.
Star to star, branches tip close as they can. To the others, they say. As long as this tree is here, no one shall fall, ever again. As long as this is here, every dreamer may walk forth, merry, on this thin, thin ice of a night.
Soon, there shall be a forever, stronger than the others, the little one hopes.
I shall touch where my master failed, and I shall glow in the night.
For all the dreamers, to sit where I break into the glassy night, I stay.
Beyond Magnolias
The sky opens widest,
Shy of any return, dancing
at the edge of another complete
Being.
Nobody watches, so slowly
when all the softness goes
seeping into ground.
Color walks forth, shedding
any and all pretense, shining
brighter than ever before;
The world is really still
when colors cease to quarrel, the best
of all shades shed the same.
Take another step back,
See the cotton thread wind
pulling all of us round, away-
Sheerer than any quiet sky,
they race down the horizon
in neck to neck harmony.
Shy of any return, dancing
at the edge of another complete
Being.
Nobody watches, so slowly
when all the softness goes
seeping into ground.
Color walks forth, shedding
any and all pretense, shining
brighter than ever before;
The world is really still
when colors cease to quarrel, the best
of all shades shed the same.
Take another step back,
See the cotton thread wind
pulling all of us round, away-
Sheerer than any quiet sky,
they race down the horizon
in neck to neck harmony.
Early Morning Dreams
It's overblown world, etched
In ink and graphite
Miracles
Of endless avenues of dust.
It's never night, never quite day,
Blooming yet faster, faster as
The world draws upon itself.
Oh, to dream, to walk on lines,
Drawn split seconds, pushing
Every which way- up
across, and even in!
Someday, all will be drawn
As for the past years,
Into the waiting, the hollow
Pillars of salt and sand.
In ink and graphite
Miracles
Of endless avenues of dust.
It's never night, never quite day,
Blooming yet faster, faster as
The world draws upon itself.
Oh, to dream, to walk on lines,
Drawn split seconds, pushing
Every which way- up
across, and even in!
Someday, all will be drawn
As for the past years,
Into the waiting, the hollow
Pillars of salt and sand.
Still There
The moment's journey went astray
As the country road does bend,
The wildest run so very swift,
No one could ever make a-mend.
This dust, it rolls, so high and slow
Across never a straight post fence.
Why, it caught up to the sea,
Spent immortality, hence.
Your love is endless,
But a moment thought,
As it waited for an end.
Yet on the deepest summer night,
No map the stars defend.
As the country road does bend,
The wildest run so very swift,
No one could ever make a-mend.
This dust, it rolls, so high and slow
Across never a straight post fence.
Why, it caught up to the sea,
Spent immortality, hence.
Your love is endless,
But a moment thought,
As it waited for an end.
Yet on the deepest summer night,
No map the stars defend.
Perhaps Endless, Perhaps Not
When is it, that the fog should clear?
The world speaks humble
To the future so dear.
To the future so dear,
Should the silence hence mumble
And itself not fear?
And itself not fear,
Says the dream who'd tumble
To the future so dear!
To the future so clear,
Go the toasts drunks grumble;
When is it, that the fog should clear?
The world speaks humble
To the future so dear.
To the future so dear,
Should the silence hence mumble
And itself not fear?
And itself not fear,
Says the dream who'd tumble
To the future so dear!
To the future so clear,
Go the toasts drunks grumble;
When is it, that the fog should clear?
Thursday, August 12, 2010
ELSE
Cast aside all delusions,
All royalty of brown, murky thought
Swamped in wanting, starving want,
To the token marble statues
Fawning in the well.
Beautiful, are you, where
Phrases should be full, curved,
Naturally dangling, or perhaps not,
Running fast and dark, dark blue.
You are someone, not like them,
Or anyone who might say such-
Not even you, then!
You are something completely, entirely
ELSE.
All royalty of brown, murky thought
Swamped in wanting, starving want,
To the token marble statues
Fawning in the well.
Beautiful, are you, where
Phrases should be full, curved,
Naturally dangling, or perhaps not,
Running fast and dark, dark blue.
You are someone, not like them,
Or anyone who might say such-
Not even you, then!
You are something completely, entirely
ELSE.
Unlocking that Within
She laughs- a low, living noise
With wings, pulled from the aerie,
Long, ash thin legs
Hum-drumming, plucking
Strands of untouched sand;
Swish, to the lonely little wind,
Farewell once again.
Her eyes are stolen whirlpools-
The tide rises and falls
From a secret place
Where her cocoa shadow roses
Rise from little seeds,
The land but a ribbon, torn rashly,
Fading from the endless Blue.
This all wells in the soul, you see,
The truth of all that could befall
This great faraway shore,
A paradise, rising again and again,
Missing, dropping and picking
New refrains each time.
With wings, pulled from the aerie,
Long, ash thin legs
Hum-drumming, plucking
Strands of untouched sand;
Swish, to the lonely little wind,
Farewell once again.
Her eyes are stolen whirlpools-
The tide rises and falls
From a secret place
Where her cocoa shadow roses
Rise from little seeds,
The land but a ribbon, torn rashly,
Fading from the endless Blue.
This all wells in the soul, you see,
The truth of all that could befall
This great faraway shore,
A paradise, rising again and again,
Missing, dropping and picking
New refrains each time.
Face Towel
Unseen beauty measures silent;
This took a long, long way-
A short, little gray blindness of metal
Rosily taken, unremarkably spun.
At one dark turn, it was a forever
And "ever" meant "meaningful";
Sweetly bitter tears caught silky,
A sticky, screaming vow of poverty
As perhaps, some lady's friend.
Still now, it stays, stays rushing
The meekest rough thread in and out,
Barely through a daily smile-to-smile,
A barely-course, almost sinister.
All angers and humors take to
Destroy vanity into a simple mind, for...
It was not hard before, not anymore.
Still in love, it softly caresses this
Unreasoned oddity of scrubbing work.
Somewhere, the virgin form exists
All broken and innocent as before-
Soft was awfully hard, then.
This took a long, long way-
A short, little gray blindness of metal
Rosily taken, unremarkably spun.
At one dark turn, it was a forever
And "ever" meant "meaningful";
Sweetly bitter tears caught silky,
A sticky, screaming vow of poverty
As perhaps, some lady's friend.
Still now, it stays, stays rushing
The meekest rough thread in and out,
Barely through a daily smile-to-smile,
A barely-course, almost sinister.
All angers and humors take to
Destroy vanity into a simple mind, for...
It was not hard before, not anymore.
Still in love, it softly caresses this
Unreasoned oddity of scrubbing work.
Somewhere, the virgin form exists
All broken and innocent as before-
Soft was awfully hard, then.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Grain of Desire
The buried, endless want
Falls a straight path- down
Like a closing, yearning vow, penning
that almost silent wish.
Like spring, it falls, hits
not enough, not even full once;
Eventually it mourns, instead
upright and dreaming time away.
Here, it shall be- far, well marked
when you are long gone,
The perfect conclusion, doled
to this backwards-reaching seed.
Falls a straight path- down
Like a closing, yearning vow, penning
that almost silent wish.
Like spring, it falls, hits
not enough, not even full once;
Eventually it mourns, instead
upright and dreaming time away.
Here, it shall be- far, well marked
when you are long gone,
The perfect conclusion, doled
to this backwards-reaching seed.
Emptying
We live in a forever; It falls
in a bell jar- capped,
sealed with maybes, have nots
Should haves- little lights, burning
in long pillars of faith.
Waxing, never waning
from the sunken clarity,
We are but born, and donning
The finest we could hope for.
Beautiful, as we wait-
Smiles like spiders, climbing up
up like eternal baby saplings- rich, but bent
Where the world curves in.
Magic, it seems- magic to uncap,
To look straight ahead
in a world of ruthless angling,
Moving windows and tipping walls,
To break this, somehow, as it falls.
in a bell jar- capped,
sealed with maybes, have nots
Should haves- little lights, burning
in long pillars of faith.
Waxing, never waning
from the sunken clarity,
We are but born, and donning
The finest we could hope for.
Beautiful, as we wait-
Smiles like spiders, climbing up
up like eternal baby saplings- rich, but bent
Where the world curves in.
Magic, it seems- magic to uncap,
To look straight ahead
in a world of ruthless angling,
Moving windows and tipping walls,
To break this, somehow, as it falls.
It
Beautiful, beautiful- we twirl
The intricately laced insides, shyly,
Until they cascade, flash
The ghosts of awkward and dumb.
This is the moment,
The pinnacle, the pain
Surging where we are not
As exactly as we be.
This is royalty- we make
A light way in this world,
Colors mixing mad, as we please,
Endless as borrowed time.
The intricately laced insides, shyly,
Until they cascade, flash
The ghosts of awkward and dumb.
This is the moment,
The pinnacle, the pain
Surging where we are not
As exactly as we be.
This is royalty- we make
A light way in this world,
Colors mixing mad, as we please,
Endless as borrowed time.
Dream's Doll
She smiles, truly hapless,
A creature of not thought,
Not love, true longing,
Not really existing- right?
She aches at the core, the
Plunging, surging maze-
Caught in endless spotlight
Where all the problems hide.
A story, a story- a dead heart
Told, untold, told,
Interchangeable, perhaps,
But sad, and a bit real anyway.
A creature of not thought,
Not love, true longing,
Not really existing- right?
She aches at the core, the
Plunging, surging maze-
Caught in endless spotlight
Where all the problems hide.
A story, a story- a dead heart
Told, untold, told,
Interchangeable, perhaps,
But sad, and a bit real anyway.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Magnolia VII
She saunters forth, the lady,
To sway at her will
(for the wind is about the same).
Here is all new polish, all grace
Bearing so steady, heavy
Like the hope of endless sun-
Tragic, but wise and true.
Most pearls now folded away,
Never is it so simple,
So kind and touching a light-
Only decidedly still.
To sway at her will
(for the wind is about the same).
Here is all new polish, all grace
Bearing so steady, heavy
Like the hope of endless sun-
Tragic, but wise and true.
Most pearls now folded away,
Never is it so simple,
So kind and touching a light-
Only decidedly still.
Soul Like Water
My mother sings a fragile song,
A mystery, for anyone else
Who hears but the words.
Broken, they tangle, dive a thousand leagues
To where they truly breathe-
A silvery, ghostly binding,
Beyond to the misty, mistaken core.
Here, they gather, gather
Unsifted, cold, unwanted,
Blue web like the ocean above
Until the waters break to strands.
A mystery, for anyone else
Who hears but the words.
Broken, they tangle, dive a thousand leagues
To where they truly breathe-
A silvery, ghostly binding,
Beyond to the misty, mistaken core.
Here, they gather, gather
Unsifted, cold, unwanted,
Blue web like the ocean above
Until the waters break to strands.
Starry-eyed
To live in a place with a million stars,
Each, bold with colored fire,
Cut to burn eternally, however soft.
A million- touchable, real,
no numbers, once lost, no grief
To bear such a burden.
One million, and I will fly
Where no one can reach or grab me,
For this is the fall.
Each, bold with colored fire,
Cut to burn eternally, however soft.
A million- touchable, real,
no numbers, once lost, no grief
To bear such a burden.
One million, and I will fly
Where no one can reach or grab me,
For this is the fall.
As It Is
I live in a world where things exist as overstatements, and yet, are not spoken at all.
I live in a world where things exist, and somehow that is enough. For everyone.
The wondering, wandering, and maddening desire to know more prevails.
There are no absolutes. Only absolute pleasure in the spurts of understanding.
You don't think this is real?
It's very real. Look not to prove it. Look to see.
I live in a world where things exist, and somehow that is enough. For everyone.
The wondering, wandering, and maddening desire to know more prevails.
There are no absolutes. Only absolute pleasure in the spurts of understanding.
You don't think this is real?
It's very real. Look not to prove it. Look to see.
Mourning
What secrets lay forbidden and smiling,
Says the far back, the heart of hearts,
Spread, arms wide and clumsy,
So lushly open, yet mysterious?
A shy, shy matter- just eager
Running with the fount of life even
As it overflowed and gave
This all her bold, bold pleasure.
Now, to apologize,
To be shy, quiet
Once more.
The phantom of that happy
Place, she isn't ready to run away.
Says the far back, the heart of hearts,
Spread, arms wide and clumsy,
So lushly open, yet mysterious?
A shy, shy matter- just eager
Running with the fount of life even
As it overflowed and gave
This all her bold, bold pleasure.
Now, to apologize,
To be shy, quiet
Once more.
The phantom of that happy
Place, she isn't ready to run away.
Cleaned
The glory of a thousand thoughts-
It used to spread, dissect
Its mistakes, its secrets alone.
Shadows became friends, neighbors,
Trading meager light, little life
warmer and warmer.
Plain as day, they seduced the flames
Now hungry, truly pulled out, (up, about)
Truly shrunken away-
A pounce from an empty post.
It used to spread, dissect
Its mistakes, its secrets alone.
Shadows became friends, neighbors,
Trading meager light, little life
warmer and warmer.
Plain as day, they seduced the flames
Now hungry, truly pulled out, (up, about)
Truly shrunken away-
A pounce from an empty post.
But a Moment's Notice
She stands before me,
Her smile always sad.
The music plays around her-
My symphony.
She does not see
Never saw, actually,
But the eyes ebb all away.
Her smile always sad.
The music plays around her-
My symphony.
She does not see
Never saw, actually,
But the eyes ebb all away.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Becoming, Permanently
I live- but a ghostly reflection,
A phantom body
Of what I could be (and am).
I thrive- but an endless struggle
Beneath the clearest understanding,
The sheer clarity,
Like a sky on the sky.
I search- but a puzzling treat
To what I already know-
To savor, to redraw the choices.
I am a moving magic,
An ongoing revolution- to define,
Redefine my change, I say!
I am not perfect, but I,
I am to stay this way.
A phantom body
Of what I could be (and am).
I thrive- but an endless struggle
Beneath the clearest understanding,
The sheer clarity,
Like a sky on the sky.
I search- but a puzzling treat
To what I already know-
To savor, to redraw the choices.
I am a moving magic,
An ongoing revolution- to define,
Redefine my change, I say!
I am not perfect, but I,
I am to stay this way.
Origami
Each fold- a potential, physical
Dive from the probable,
A new shadow, a sound
Brushing against the others.
Each tuck, a verb whispered
For itself- the entity, subject
Coming to life, deeply detailed.
Black. And White. It seams,
It arrives methodically
That my soul should grow wings.
Dive from the probable,
A new shadow, a sound
Brushing against the others.
Each tuck, a verb whispered
For itself- the entity, subject
Coming to life, deeply detailed.
Black. And White. It seams,
It arrives methodically
That my soul should grow wings.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Battle Cry
Fire and ice, a layer
Long spread on the glass-
A glaze, separated,
Less than complete.
Pull the shields, the silence
From the infinite turns, niches,
The secrets from the tamed-
The war begins noble.
Sit still, and it follows,
Paints a canvas of soot
(Smiling eyes don't see).
Overturn yourself in the night,
And uncover a prowess long set.
Long spread on the glass-
A glaze, separated,
Less than complete.
Pull the shields, the silence
From the infinite turns, niches,
The secrets from the tamed-
The war begins noble.
Sit still, and it follows,
Paints a canvas of soot
(Smiling eyes don't see).
Overturn yourself in the night,
And uncover a prowess long set.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
On the Pedestal
The finest of them,
The most eminent
Swerved, dodged narrowly
The sweet, sweet coronation.
The highest, the obscure,
The worthy of pride-
Cast like a thousand sighs
Upon the disjointed sea-
He stands alone in sunrise.
The rest, young and old,
Reaching or pulling,
Say a prayer, smile for him.
The most eminent
Swerved, dodged narrowly
The sweet, sweet coronation.
The highest, the obscure,
The worthy of pride-
Cast like a thousand sighs
Upon the disjointed sea-
He stands alone in sunrise.
The rest, young and old,
Reaching or pulling,
Say a prayer, smile for him.
Shadow
A smiling, crouching shadow
Sings the sweetest lullaby-
Stooped, yet linked
In the night a thousand shades.
Only then, in the pool of light
Is it simple, just
As any love, found alone-
Mercy and truce.
The days are fooling,
The endless turning times
But the lightest cogs
In a turning, turning shift.
Sings the sweetest lullaby-
Stooped, yet linked
In the night a thousand shades.
Only then, in the pool of light
Is it simple, just
As any love, found alone-
Mercy and truce.
The days are fooling,
The endless turning times
But the lightest cogs
In a turning, turning shift.
Chattering Essay
Spices-the magicians pieced
All the sensations, left as keys
To a sister of the soul-
Thrown in arcs, circumventing
What seems to be a point.
Concentric? A bit accented
In the illusion particular,
The allusion circulating-
One of the old breed.
Yet, so far from the origin
We sit and watch,
Stand and clap
For one of ours- at best
A collector, magpie-plumed.
All the sensations, left as keys
To a sister of the soul-
Thrown in arcs, circumventing
What seems to be a point.
Concentric? A bit accented
In the illusion particular,
The allusion circulating-
One of the old breed.
Yet, so far from the origin
We sit and watch,
Stand and clap
For one of ours- at best
A collector, magpie-plumed.
Expectation
Marked silence? She sits,
Stands from a falling throne-
Her crown waits, she says.
It is gone, only hoped,
Only dreamed, dreamed away
The only heir she so kept.
The last question,
Before the light caved
To a coughting empty world-
What is left?
Stands from a falling throne-
Her crown waits, she says.
It is gone, only hoped,
Only dreamed, dreamed away
The only heir she so kept.
The last question,
Before the light caved
To a coughting empty world-
What is left?
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Legends of Hope
Transcending- but a glimpse
To the finest, behind the eye,
Behind the scattering
Of any light at all.
There, it waits, in the glory
So blind to see, shrouded-
The strong voice- echoing
That tangling, spidery song.
The true gods that run us,
They empty this little world,
Drown in tears at her feet,
Come washing back to us all.
To the finest, behind the eye,
Behind the scattering
Of any light at all.
There, it waits, in the glory
So blind to see, shrouded-
The strong voice- echoing
That tangling, spidery song.
The true gods that run us,
They empty this little world,
Drown in tears at her feet,
Come washing back to us all.
Luxuries
The bars, like gold wires
Drawn from smooth flame-
In these cold nights, they bow
A bending, wondrous welcome.
Pulling, pulling, the molten cage,
The unhammered rivers fall
Quite minutely, a magic told
The air around to cave, to
Spread some weakness and fly.
It's all just to fall, unhampered
As broken voices speak tongues-
A past forgotten, uncatching,
The empty molds a-waiting.
Drawn from smooth flame-
In these cold nights, they bow
A bending, wondrous welcome.
Pulling, pulling, the molten cage,
The unhammered rivers fall
Quite minutely, a magic told
The air around to cave, to
Spread some weakness and fly.
It's all just to fall, unhampered
As broken voices speak tongues-
A past forgotten, uncatching,
The empty molds a-waiting.
Damsel in Distress
She was perfect in her own way, perfect like no one else could be. Unapproachable, perhaps, in about three of her facades, but perfect. Perfect was a moving state, you see, a transient state waiting for the next perfect, the better perfect. I really wish she would find that perfect, perfectly. I've been wishing this for a very long time, you see. When the next time comes, and maybe she comes around, maybe I'll stop.
Perhaps I already missed my stop. Perhaps that's why I'll keep missing her, and I can't be wishing anymore.
I'm not the princess, and never should be. I'm not the damsel in distress, and never will be.
Perhaps I already missed my stop. Perhaps that's why I'll keep missing her, and I can't be wishing anymore.
I'm not the princess, and never should be. I'm not the damsel in distress, and never will be.
Tempter
Climbing, borrowing of the dark
its finest gems and stolen furs,
They lost and pass unseen.
Her wild, wild eyes, slip,
Fragilely tousled hair-
An overbloom of a dream
Who looks the other way.
For such common rarities,
The strings were long set, knotted
In dangerous parallel; the sky falls
And never quite picks up.
its finest gems and stolen furs,
They lost and pass unseen.
Her wild, wild eyes, slip,
Fragilely tousled hair-
An overbloom of a dream
Who looks the other way.
For such common rarities,
The strings were long set, knotted
In dangerous parallel; the sky falls
And never quite picks up.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Apocalyptic Fractal
In staining succulence, overflowing
A rising mathematical sky,
Precision falls too easy- rushing
Sand ro rock, coals to diamonds.
The blood of the land found
A closed improbability,
Streaked deep in solemn earth,
Pulling in over out in rapid course.
The sea became a broken sky,
The globe curved beyond as
A bare heaven showed jagged streams
And its store of forever sunset.
A rising mathematical sky,
Precision falls too easy- rushing
Sand ro rock, coals to diamonds.
The blood of the land found
A closed improbability,
Streaked deep in solemn earth,
Pulling in over out in rapid course.
The sea became a broken sky,
The globe curved beyond as
A bare heaven showed jagged streams
And its store of forever sunset.
Entitlement
The not-so-simple direction
Not-so-simple perception
Argue simple,
Beat the solemn speech.
A psyche tips a drunken toast,
A mute stutter
To the kings of the hill,
Always starving and getting richer.
An unsimplified gown, trained
Unsimplified shoes higher
Tossed coiffed, unsimplified hair
All under a crown new currency forced
Upon this rarity
(it was complicated, before).
Now, she totters forth
For the crowds of simplified,
Feeling more and more a queen.
Not-so-simple perception
Argue simple,
Beat the solemn speech.
A psyche tips a drunken toast,
A mute stutter
To the kings of the hill,
Always starving and getting richer.
An unsimplified gown, trained
Unsimplified shoes higher
Tossed coiffed, unsimplified hair
All under a crown new currency forced
Upon this rarity
(it was complicated, before).
Now, she totters forth
For the crowds of simplified,
Feeling more and more a queen.
Friendly Monster
Letting go is simple, why
The thing falls up, clawing,
Shredding gravity, screaming
At rare, questioned mercy.
It climbs, beyond the trees
With curlicue written love,
Black as the day it first drank
The brilliance of the sun.
Your name, in unending lights, now-
Ugly black tears, unsmearing
Where you didn't swallow them,
Such shallow, shallow agony!
Your name, an old vow
Sworn and signed all over the sky-
Unbroken, unfulfilled, gone,
It's still yours.
The thing falls up, clawing,
Shredding gravity, screaming
At rare, questioned mercy.
It climbs, beyond the trees
With curlicue written love,
Black as the day it first drank
The brilliance of the sun.
Your name, in unending lights, now-
Ugly black tears, unsmearing
Where you didn't swallow them,
Such shallow, shallow agony!
Your name, an old vow
Sworn and signed all over the sky-
Unbroken, unfulfilled, gone,
It's still yours.
Disillusionment Up
Dispossess the sky,
Disposses the loving, the yearning
Nothing the soul holds
So close, perhaps its only friend.
One by one, it slips,
Silvery strings fly free
So thick in the air, it clears
A quick, coughing wind.
We can only look on, soon.
The pain comes, not just before
And never leaves anymore.
We reach, but never grasp,
We grab, and fall further,
We fall, and may never rise.
Disposses the loving, the yearning
Nothing the soul holds
So close, perhaps its only friend.
One by one, it slips,
Silvery strings fly free
So thick in the air, it clears
A quick, coughing wind.
We can only look on, soon.
The pain comes, not just before
And never leaves anymore.
We reach, but never grasp,
We grab, and fall further,
We fall, and may never rise.
Sweetest Dreams
A faraway sound in my ear
Tunes me away, only to hear
Glass blown kisses mixing nights bitter,
Scraping sugar crystals across the sky.
Cinnamon swept night, to day,
Dries the crisp, yet shyest
Sigh through the shimmering veil.
The clouds float an empty foam-
Drip drops a rainy, rainy world
Upon a molasses moment, stalled.
Tunes me away, only to hear
Glass blown kisses mixing nights bitter,
Scraping sugar crystals across the sky.
Cinnamon swept night, to day,
Dries the crisp, yet shyest
Sigh through the shimmering veil.
The clouds float an empty foam-
Drip drops a rainy, rainy world
Upon a molasses moment, stalled.
Pink Pearls
Uncontained in its pride
Just to be the sunset's sea,
Just a second.
It chimes a cascade, a jangling
Of a world never painted-
Skipping shyest desires
Gasping, floating at the gills.
Far lay the empty liquid sands
Barren, and still sinking away,
Mined of all but fantasy.
Just to be the sunset's sea,
Just a second.
It chimes a cascade, a jangling
Of a world never painted-
Skipping shyest desires
Gasping, floating at the gills.
Far lay the empty liquid sands
Barren, and still sinking away,
Mined of all but fantasy.
Day and Night
The finest of them, sweet
Strayed a steady course,
hid a shadow behind.
Her sisters, seeing more beautiful
Finer a worldly mind,
Walked firmly, disappeared
Darkly through the glass.
The finest sunsets, the longest
Threads spun on the sea-
They were gifted mist and dew,
Wove over but mercy's night.
The last of them, sweet fairest
Stayed at the barest point;
All jealousy choked at Dawn
As the light was pawned back.
Strayed a steady course,
hid a shadow behind.
Her sisters, seeing more beautiful
Finer a worldly mind,
Walked firmly, disappeared
Darkly through the glass.
The finest sunsets, the longest
Threads spun on the sea-
They were gifted mist and dew,
Wove over but mercy's night.
The last of them, sweet fairest
Stayed at the barest point;
All jealousy choked at Dawn
As the light was pawned back.
Shame? What Shame?
The refinement of a thousand years,
Her sweet ocean eyes glow
Empty as the pearly sky;
The fairest countenance, a blush
Near wasteful as the steady lace,
Seaming each and every virtue-
A hidden corset tied.
Perfect in every way,
My dignity finds solace
And no solace at all.
Her sweet ocean eyes glow
Empty as the pearly sky;
The fairest countenance, a blush
Near wasteful as the steady lace,
Seaming each and every virtue-
A hidden corset tied.
Perfect in every way,
My dignity finds solace
And no solace at all.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Enchantress
She strokes the finest stores of mind,
Sweet reservoir eyes, shining
hair a running river;
All but the scent, an exotic rose.
Her complexion swirls, brighter
Than any Indian summer night,
Two still lanterns wrapping coals
To a new, low strumming.
The spirits of the deepest fires
Forged her unapproachable charm-
Smiths lost in eternal sands
Wrought a beauty, so written,
For otherwise defeated nights.
Sweet reservoir eyes, shining
hair a running river;
All but the scent, an exotic rose.
Her complexion swirls, brighter
Than any Indian summer night,
Two still lanterns wrapping coals
To a new, low strumming.
The spirits of the deepest fires
Forged her unapproachable charm-
Smiths lost in eternal sands
Wrought a beauty, so written,
For otherwise defeated nights.
My Finest Friend
She rages, loves, laughs
Through my gray somber eyes-
Caught in our own spell,
Neither of us see too much.
At once, fire and ice were one,
Unable, in their natures,
To find the sweetest bloom, not one
Amid their finest forces.
We steal time- it comes empty,
In clean scooped puddles without her.
Barely drained in her warm tones,
They only glow richly, beautifully
Beneath her smiling, full moon.
Through my gray somber eyes-
Caught in our own spell,
Neither of us see too much.
At once, fire and ice were one,
Unable, in their natures,
To find the sweetest bloom, not one
Amid their finest forces.
We steal time- it comes empty,
In clean scooped puddles without her.
Barely drained in her warm tones,
They only glow richly, beautifully
Beneath her smiling, full moon.
Beyond Giants
A small person is gifted,
Sparingly, the biggest secrets-
Lying awake, in his small space
In his small soul, in his soul's soul.
It becomes a journey, a fight
He wants and needs- he is lithe,
Tipping, walking the line
Between glory and vanity.
This world seems to big, too low, up
For anyone on that tightrope,
Dangling between
The man next in line and
Too many means and ends.
Sparingly, the biggest secrets-
Lying awake, in his small space
In his small soul, in his soul's soul.
It becomes a journey, a fight
He wants and needs- he is lithe,
Tipping, walking the line
Between glory and vanity.
This world seems to big, too low, up
For anyone on that tightrope,
Dangling between
The man next in line and
Too many means and ends.
On My Own
I close my eyes and he is there,
Sweet tendrils of touch and feel- lukewarm
Spewing, raging from memory-
He calls the name of another.
Without flaw, without faith of plot
Runs one night to the next;
My dreams draw the finest shards
Of a poor mirror's broken kaleidoscope.
To yearn is empty, passions thrive,
Hide, and shroud my old crudity-
Secretly spartan walls unsightly,
Still alone at siege's end.
Sweet tendrils of touch and feel- lukewarm
Spewing, raging from memory-
He calls the name of another.
Without flaw, without faith of plot
Runs one night to the next;
My dreams draw the finest shards
Of a poor mirror's broken kaleidoscope.
To yearn is empty, passions thrive,
Hide, and shroud my old crudity-
Secretly spartan walls unsightly,
Still alone at siege's end.
Exposed
Right at my hands,
My mind has two halves
Pulled open- to rust, to mingle,
To suffocate each other (briefly).
The mysteries only tantalize,
Tempt at some endless possibility
Reveling in a dance of the dark.
In the light, all is quiet,
The chandelier still swings
A melancholy creak-
Another closed door lost.
My mind has two halves
Pulled open- to rust, to mingle,
To suffocate each other (briefly).
The mysteries only tantalize,
Tempt at some endless possibility
Reveling in a dance of the dark.
In the light, all is quiet,
The chandelier still swings
A melancholy creak-
Another closed door lost.
Cold Journey
These questions were once answers
As answers, again, become questions-
Infinite knowledge confines- lost
In small boxes, one by one.
The divine leap is far away-
To dream beyond a plotted field,
Beyond the milky river, leaking
Such intricacies, fancies
Need not, yet needed- we follow.
Soon, we are beyond the doubters,
Lost voices calling us back, darkly
To the endless circles, the company
Of mirrors in right and wrong.
As answers, again, become questions-
Infinite knowledge confines- lost
In small boxes, one by one.
The divine leap is far away-
To dream beyond a plotted field,
Beyond the milky river, leaking
Such intricacies, fancies
Need not, yet needed- we follow.
Soon, we are beyond the doubters,
Lost voices calling us back, darkly
To the endless circles, the company
Of mirrors in right and wrong.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Aligning Souls
We walk in silence, not fear-
Simple splashes of vibrant blossom
Grace, fall so faintly
To the empty eyes of Far Away.
We walk in comfort, not certainty-
The fragrance abundant, filling
Its own admiration, stops
Before any devotions (still impossible).
We walk in truth, not luxury-
This spring won't always be
Quite so teeming, so merciful-
The breeze blows sweet, indecisive.
We walk softly, not rippling
Our water lily roots-
They sink beyond the painting,
Fall to endless watercolor ponds.
Simple splashes of vibrant blossom
Grace, fall so faintly
To the empty eyes of Far Away.
We walk in comfort, not certainty-
The fragrance abundant, filling
Its own admiration, stops
Before any devotions (still impossible).
We walk in truth, not luxury-
This spring won't always be
Quite so teeming, so merciful-
The breeze blows sweet, indecisive.
We walk softly, not rippling
Our water lily roots-
They sink beyond the painting,
Fall to endless watercolor ponds.
Intricate Optimism
A disgusting thief is greed,
Which prods at sleeping shame-
That poor, dull face
Long far from that pain.
Yet, the plunder pushes, defies
What seems to be its pulse,
To all, but some hidden, lost heir
Its darkness truly bequeath.
The only, so common escape?
To be born a sin, yet bearing
As a fugitive trader, Unknowns
Stolen from beyond the dark.
Which prods at sleeping shame-
That poor, dull face
Long far from that pain.
Yet, the plunder pushes, defies
What seems to be its pulse,
To all, but some hidden, lost heir
Its darkness truly bequeath.
The only, so common escape?
To be born a sin, yet bearing
As a fugitive trader, Unknowns
Stolen from beyond the dark.
The Heavenly Plane
Angels are to be dreamed of,
And aren't so far away at all.
They talk so strange, some say,
One finds they rarely call.
It's not so fearful, not so strange,
To be silent, and to hear
Simple words, simple tales
As pain we know so clear.
The kindest souls we come to be
When to us are fortunes clear-
When we dream as reading hearts
And not as mirrored fear.
And aren't so far away at all.
They talk so strange, some say,
One finds they rarely call.
It's not so fearful, not so strange,
To be silent, and to hear
Simple words, simple tales
As pain we know so clear.
The kindest souls we come to be
When to us are fortunes clear-
When we dream as reading hearts
And not as mirrored fear.
Infinity
When the designated end is lost,
A simple vagary misplaced,
Beginnings begin, and
Endings end, in between.
At the last of the light,
Of the true, thin, black line-
Between is's(and "is not"'s)-
Yet another start.
A simple vagary misplaced,
Beginnings begin, and
Endings end, in between.
At the last of the light,
Of the true, thin, black line-
Between is's(and "is not"'s)-
Yet another start.
Emotions
Are we meant to cry
Just as we laugh- easily,
And so well?
Breathtaking, it reaches
Our very core- we shake,
Possessed, are gone
By trajectory of thought;
We close our eyes, our ears
So caught, redhanded-
The art of living.
Only in dreams, though,
Have I trembled in such sorrow.
Life- we lift so high, then plummet
To grow our wings
Until, at last, we barely recall
Just when we're due to fall.
Just as we laugh- easily,
And so well?
Breathtaking, it reaches
Our very core- we shake,
Possessed, are gone
By trajectory of thought;
We close our eyes, our ears
So caught, redhanded-
The art of living.
Only in dreams, though,
Have I trembled in such sorrow.
Life- we lift so high, then plummet
To grow our wings
Until, at last, we barely recall
Just when we're due to fall.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Mixing of Ideals
If only miracles occured
To save, and just for love.
Battlefields die, yet empty
Of ghosts present and past;
Hospitals, too- but still full
Of not dying, not waiting-
A maze of emergency rooms
Where small sufferings rarely end.
Reach further,
Beyond words, colors, and sounds.
Reach further, Beyond,
And any old Evil becomes good.
To save, and just for love.
Battlefields die, yet empty
Of ghosts present and past;
Hospitals, too- but still full
Of not dying, not waiting-
A maze of emergency rooms
Where small sufferings rarely end.
Reach further,
Beyond words, colors, and sounds.
Reach further, Beyond,
And any old Evil becomes good.
The Knitted
I smile upon this-
A simple hour, so blessed
With the infinite mysteries...
In certainty, of course!
Each stitch- a narrow room
Full of chatter and light,
Written books, even,
Meant for the smallest soul.
Here is the art of possible,
Pounding away at impossible
To nearly frayed thread.
I piece so many-
Little up-wind, down-wind,
Crevices of barely-shadow.
They open and close-for me-
In infinite variation.
A simple hour, so blessed
With the infinite mysteries...
In certainty, of course!
Each stitch- a narrow room
Full of chatter and light,
Written books, even,
Meant for the smallest soul.
Here is the art of possible,
Pounding away at impossible
To nearly frayed thread.
I piece so many-
Little up-wind, down-wind,
Crevices of barely-shadow.
They open and close-for me-
In infinite variation.
The Universe, Today.
It exists, strong and lasting-
A yarn of simple years,
With me as love began,
Still with me.
We were once tied-
(To God Himself)
Now merely ourselves,
Our souls are so tangled,
Frayed by the time.
I hold it in my hands,
Firmly, yet so light.
It frays so little today.
A yarn of simple years,
With me as love began,
Still with me.
We were once tied-
(To God Himself)
Now merely ourselves,
Our souls are so tangled,
Frayed by the time.
I hold it in my hands,
Firmly, yet so light.
It frays so little today.
Healing Mantra
I shall purge myself of all things by immersing myself completely in their beauty.
I shall clear myself of all thoughts by letting them fill me, one at a time, until they all strain and purify.
I shall purify my tabula rasa by filling it and letting all pass from it gently.
I shall speak by listening and filling my actions with sincerity.
I shall be free by exiling my desires where they may be one with the world.
I shall be timeless by immersing myself in time and passing with it.
I shall think and be thoughtful by setting my obligations free.
I shall spare the life of my obligations by giving them freedom.
I shall fulfill my obligations by befriending the life of the mind.
In this, I shall be whole.
I shall clear myself of all thoughts by letting them fill me, one at a time, until they all strain and purify.
I shall purify my tabula rasa by filling it and letting all pass from it gently.
I shall speak by listening and filling my actions with sincerity.
I shall be free by exiling my desires where they may be one with the world.
I shall be timeless by immersing myself in time and passing with it.
I shall think and be thoughtful by setting my obligations free.
I shall spare the life of my obligations by giving them freedom.
I shall fulfill my obligations by befriending the life of the mind.
In this, I shall be whole.
Dear World,
Note that I feel shame, for
Finding,
Seeking,
Looking on- just for Beyond,
Which I strive for.
Pen after pen,
Notion after notion-
Taken from an endlessness,
It becomes mine, somehow.
Soon, this shall be mine,
So very mine.
You will not be mad,
So very mad.
For now, I am my cage.
You are your cage.
I'm not yours, AND
You're not mine.
Yet. If ever. With love.
Finding,
Seeking,
Looking on- just for Beyond,
Which I strive for.
Pen after pen,
Notion after notion-
Taken from an endlessness,
It becomes mine, somehow.
Soon, this shall be mine,
So very mine.
You will not be mad,
So very mad.
For now, I am my cage.
You are your cage.
I'm not yours, AND
You're not mine.
Yet. If ever. With love.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Know- Something Knew
What one man says
(If he thinks he know),
Generally go, and well so.
Once more men come,
And more men come go,
He go lost, and he don't know.
He never said he know,
He said he knew.
And now the world has grew.
Yet, as they come go,
They see, and they know-
He know, they know...
Enough for, to know, not knew.
Never. Knew not enough.
(If he thinks he know),
Generally go, and well so.
Once more men come,
And more men come go,
He go lost, and he don't know.
He never said he know,
He said he knew.
And now the world has grew.
Yet, as they come go,
They see, and they know-
He know, they know...
Enough for, to know, not knew.
Never. Knew not enough.
Djinn
No other vessel of my humble soul
Is so free to live boldly, to speak
Its phantom art of mind;
Yet, I am possessed just the same.
His eyes are narrow, fierce
With only small wonder-
Small flakes in a shallow stream, pure gold.
A current blurs
time against the tide.
As if he had a planet,
And I, but its faraway star-
We watch its lonely fate turn,
His dusty trail around the teartracks.
One day, he'll stand alone,
Sighing at the last glass jar,
The lamp I held all this time.
Gone, I will be, with all my wishes.
Is so free to live boldly, to speak
Its phantom art of mind;
Yet, I am possessed just the same.
His eyes are narrow, fierce
With only small wonder-
Small flakes in a shallow stream, pure gold.
A current blurs
time against the tide.
As if he had a planet,
And I, but its faraway star-
We watch its lonely fate turn,
His dusty trail around the teartracks.
One day, he'll stand alone,
Sighing at the last glass jar,
The lamp I held all this time.
Gone, I will be, with all my wishes.
Magnolia Tree Revisited
It was I who was mistaken-
Seasons do not follow,
Old words could not lead
Some tale of true permanence.
Sweet, blushing green, still sharp
Cuts from the shadows, intricate,
Until they are clearly jigsawed away,
Swiftly peeled, near unseen,
From the secrets of each breeze.
Here, the only place so pure-
The warmth truly rests, lays
In ripple pools across glass shadow,
(For the summer turns such tides).
Here, the start of suspended pride-
Cracks and crevices holding unfaded sky,
All amid blessed creamy frame, wrought
For the most delicate trickle of light.
Seasons do not follow,
Old words could not lead
Some tale of true permanence.
Sweet, blushing green, still sharp
Cuts from the shadows, intricate,
Until they are clearly jigsawed away,
Swiftly peeled, near unseen,
From the secrets of each breeze.
Here, the only place so pure-
The warmth truly rests, lays
In ripple pools across glass shadow,
(For the summer turns such tides).
Here, the start of suspended pride-
Cracks and crevices holding unfaded sky,
All amid blessed creamy frame, wrought
For the most delicate trickle of light.
Empty Ideal
A broken kingdom, the one at hand-
The king is far away.
The stories, the stories of what he be,
Fine ladies' tongues at play.
They say he has a skin so bronze,
It needs no golden dusts.
They say he has his nights so sweet
That every lady lusts.
They say his shoulders are so wide,
And ever are so strong-
Every knight does envy him,
So what, pray tell, is wrong?
His lady, the queen, knows him best,
Beyond all woven lore.
Before his leave, these tales he sowed,
But his heart was gone before.
The king is far away.
The stories, the stories of what he be,
Fine ladies' tongues at play.
They say he has a skin so bronze,
It needs no golden dusts.
They say he has his nights so sweet
That every lady lusts.
They say his shoulders are so wide,
And ever are so strong-
Every knight does envy him,
So what, pray tell, is wrong?
His lady, the queen, knows him best,
Beyond all woven lore.
Before his leave, these tales he sowed,
But his heart was gone before.
Here's a Miracle
To look down all paths,
Still winding and unwinding, be
Tempting behind-
Some dancing with others, to become
A tango of what could be, should exist
Some other phenomenal fate.
Still, time locks every particle
Blessed,
In the cold arms of Gravity-
Muse, yet unrevealed
Her binding spell- the last thing
To fall from days gone by.
Still winding and unwinding, be
Tempting behind-
Some dancing with others, to become
A tango of what could be, should exist
Some other phenomenal fate.
Still, time locks every particle
Blessed,
In the cold arms of Gravity-
Muse, yet unrevealed
Her binding spell- the last thing
To fall from days gone by.
Written Away
Bind me in my sweetest castle,
With no maids, but old words of mine,
Who smile upon my empty need
Of them, and their riches fine.
I'll have no beggars, no dreams misspoke,
Waiting for their release.
The poorest though of commonfolk?
I'll pen them as they feast.
Love, life, day, and night,
And death, not many times.
To live is the trouble,
My restless body chimes.
Fill and fill, this court will fill
With lovely lord and lass.
As queen, I hear none of them,
My previous works, en masse.
With no maids, but old words of mine,
Who smile upon my empty need
Of them, and their riches fine.
I'll have no beggars, no dreams misspoke,
Waiting for their release.
The poorest though of commonfolk?
I'll pen them as they feast.
Love, life, day, and night,
And death, not many times.
To live is the trouble,
My restless body chimes.
Fill and fill, this court will fill
With lovely lord and lass.
As queen, I hear none of them,
My previous works, en masse.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Lost, Yet Found
Sweet mortal of her finest age,
Formed of finest shape-
A harmony, a goddess boasts
Beneath the veil and cape.
Fairest yet of face and flesh
Does grace on simple tongue,
Entangles unread passions,
(the wisest men are young).
Hands and hands, be handy,
They scarcely gift of price.
Like sand to pearl, come beauty sheen,
No finish would suffice.
Formed of finest shape-
A harmony, a goddess boasts
Beneath the veil and cape.
Fairest yet of face and flesh
Does grace on simple tongue,
Entangles unread passions,
(the wisest men are young).
Hands and hands, be handy,
They scarcely gift of price.
Like sand to pearl, come beauty sheen,
No finish would suffice.
Last Magnolia Tree (V)
Gone, the glamour held- 'twas green,
Fluttering so clear of worry, and
Spilling with sensual wealth.
Dear summer, its slow dusk
Comes too soon, old and faded;
It lies unpainted at edges.
The rafters once filled, bursting with
New celestial pearls, songs
That spring left behind overdue,
Which took the foundation with it.
This left no heiress,
No accounts to burn,
No ashes are left in fragile light
(Lest the sepia rise like shadows).
Fluttering so clear of worry, and
Spilling with sensual wealth.
Dear summer, its slow dusk
Comes too soon, old and faded;
It lies unpainted at edges.
The rafters once filled, bursting with
New celestial pearls, songs
That spring left behind overdue,
Which took the foundation with it.
This left no heiress,
No accounts to burn,
No ashes are left in fragile light
(Lest the sepia rise like shadows).
Miracle
Sweet angel, who comes-
A breath of wind so sad,
Bruised in the broken tumult,
Lost in a sea of anger;
The poorest man could save her,
So I did, and was blest
With joy- her eyes opened,
She saw what I was.
"Madam, you are restless,"
Her bright eyes said.
"Madam, you are weary.
Madam, we are both lost,
You and I."
To love, to be held
So close- no easy thing.
The arms are wider, wider
Until they hold the world.
A breath of wind so sad,
Bruised in the broken tumult,
Lost in a sea of anger;
The poorest man could save her,
So I did, and was blest
With joy- her eyes opened,
She saw what I was.
"Madam, you are restless,"
Her bright eyes said.
"Madam, you are weary.
Madam, we are both lost,
You and I."
To love, to be held
So close- no easy thing.
The arms are wider, wider
Until they hold the world.
Modern Belles
Venus truly rises, at her best
Amid no stars, no light-
She never found herself vain.
Beauty after beauty,
Night after night
Finds itself vanquished, thus-
One after another fights,
Tangles for the spotlight
(Where there is none).
The ground is littered, dusty
With those who glitter, yet
We all must look up.
Amid no stars, no light-
She never found herself vain.
Beauty after beauty,
Night after night
Finds itself vanquished, thus-
One after another fights,
Tangles for the spotlight
(Where there is none).
The ground is littered, dusty
With those who glitter, yet
We all must look up.
Wisdom
Mother, Mother,
My eyes are dimmed
In past lights of day,
In wars not mine.
My tongue is weary
With the same strange speech,
Again and again- I know
not to say, otherwise.
Mother, mother,
I know not tomorrow
Nor the day after that.
Maybe you don't either.
My eyes are dimmed
In past lights of day,
In wars not mine.
My tongue is weary
With the same strange speech,
Again and again- I know
not to say, otherwise.
Mother, mother,
I know not tomorrow
Nor the day after that.
Maybe you don't either.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Starboy
One day, he'll take me
Through the simpler veils of open night
To gaze upon his starry sky.
There, his world sits still-
He tucked his firmest mark there,
Hid his gentlest smile.
No stepping stones, introductions
Prompt well in that place,
No words could stay.
We will just be.
Up there, he'll be;
Only he will take me.
Through the simpler veils of open night
To gaze upon his starry sky.
There, his world sits still-
He tucked his firmest mark there,
Hid his gentlest smile.
No stepping stones, introductions
Prompt well in that place,
No words could stay.
We will just be.
Up there, he'll be;
Only he will take me.
Plead With Me
O, Romance, if you hear me sing,
Soft as a stream kissed raven's wing;
He gives his shadow to the shade,
Where days are broken, and persons made.
Where night is cruel, a beau of death,
Who serenades in hollow breath;
Never theirs, yet theirs to give:
Until dawn breaks, glass castles live.
So, make me gentle, sharp, and swift,
With glowing visage, yet a shame to lift.
Bury my joy, beneath thorns now mine,
I see one handsome, that naught refine.
Soft as a stream kissed raven's wing;
He gives his shadow to the shade,
Where days are broken, and persons made.
Where night is cruel, a beau of death,
Who serenades in hollow breath;
Never theirs, yet theirs to give:
Until dawn breaks, glass castles live.
So, make me gentle, sharp, and swift,
With glowing visage, yet a shame to lift.
Bury my joy, beneath thorns now mine,
I see one handsome, that naught refine.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Forbidden
He took me where I found me, first,
Where the wind told me my name
And I told it his, scorning
That either us betray.
Yet, it wrapped itself in my hair,
Thin ribbons binding severe
As any broken goddess could say.
It brushed me hard in torn pastel,
And he, in lavish nesting, thread
Hidden in the open breeze-
Sheer, pulled layers a beautiful sin.
There we were, years later,
Cloud after cloud had gone,
Tearful, wreaking stains breaking
Only ghosts from the shadows.
Where the wind told me my name
And I told it his, scorning
That either us betray.
Yet, it wrapped itself in my hair,
Thin ribbons binding severe
As any broken goddess could say.
It brushed me hard in torn pastel,
And he, in lavish nesting, thread
Hidden in the open breeze-
Sheer, pulled layers a beautiful sin.
There we were, years later,
Cloud after cloud had gone,
Tearful, wreaking stains breaking
Only ghosts from the shadows.
Unfinished Business
One escape will always need another,
For truth is ugly, as dark and pure
As any diamond could tell you,
Its hardness is its cure.
The diluted shreds- merely ash, but
Dead, and growing fine-
They leave their roots upon the sky-
And upon illusions dine.
False fears breed false hopes,
Lust that never fails.
What began as bewitching glory
Ends as darkness pales.
To stab that beast when it was light
Would end it- bleeding and cold.
To enter it, and consume its rage
Would find me foolishly bold!
(At last, I walked to it, unarmed
And gave it up, resigned.
Perhaps I'm no good martyr
To take that hell to mind.)
For truth is ugly, as dark and pure
As any diamond could tell you,
Its hardness is its cure.
The diluted shreds- merely ash, but
Dead, and growing fine-
They leave their roots upon the sky-
And upon illusions dine.
False fears breed false hopes,
Lust that never fails.
What began as bewitching glory
Ends as darkness pales.
To stab that beast when it was light
Would end it- bleeding and cold.
To enter it, and consume its rage
Would find me foolishly bold!
(At last, I walked to it, unarmed
And gave it up, resigned.
Perhaps I'm no good martyr
To take that hell to mind.)
Orpheus
Emboldened in cold reflection,
The mind takes its wings,
Lent from the altar of dreams.
Mine, mine, it says
And I am to win.
There is no other.
That dream, I built-mine,
The people left behind, mine,
The forbidden luck emptied, mine,
The time, which kneels for me to plead.
The fake sun crumples, emptied
Of the pride it kept from us.
It becomes real, for once-
A place of sworn, forgotten foothold.
The mind takes its wings,
Lent from the altar of dreams.
Mine, mine, it says
And I am to win.
There is no other.
That dream, I built-mine,
The people left behind, mine,
The forbidden luck emptied, mine,
The time, which kneels for me to plead.
The fake sun crumples, emptied
Of the pride it kept from us.
It becomes real, for once-
A place of sworn, forgotten foothold.
May It Be
Find me in the summer's end,
When dreams have had their fill,
Eating at the irony- long
Abandoned by my will.
When time is bitter, lost to chance,
(Silent parley, so it fell)
That I should still be me,
And still you know me well.
Hold me like it's sunset
And little shall we know,
How moments aim to spare,
And miss to overflow.
When dreams have had their fill,
Eating at the irony- long
Abandoned by my will.
When time is bitter, lost to chance,
(Silent parley, so it fell)
That I should still be me,
And still you know me well.
Hold me like it's sunset
And little shall we know,
How moments aim to spare,
And miss to overflow.
Zebra's Fray
I found someone, strange to me,
Who found this world unraveling.
You see the stripes, she said to me,
Black, white, or just traveling?
One knot to another, they walk
A tightrope, just the same.
Each other's dreams, they stalk
A worn, beaten frame.
Wno knows where it began,
When life fell black on white,
And turning it around
Meant turning from the light!
Who found this world unraveling.
You see the stripes, she said to me,
Black, white, or just traveling?
One knot to another, they walk
A tightrope, just the same.
Each other's dreams, they stalk
A worn, beaten frame.
Wno knows where it began,
When life fell black on white,
And turning it around
Meant turning from the light!
Knowing
This be a slice of reality,
A sheet of paper fallen, conveniently,
Away from the empty weight
(On which this love affair began).
Feigning silence, architects?
They dance around a universe created,
Projected, calculated, desecrated,
At last, dejected- a shrine.
One slice, just one, and
I am far from here, leaning
Far past the breadth of life, daring
To fold, peel this sheer leaf- anew.
A sheet of paper fallen, conveniently,
Away from the empty weight
(On which this love affair began).
Feigning silence, architects?
They dance around a universe created,
Projected, calculated, desecrated,
At last, dejected- a shrine.
One slice, just one, and
I am far from here, leaning
Far past the breadth of life, daring
To fold, peel this sheer leaf- anew.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
One Melody
Come a partridge in the night,
Singing low, soft without menace,
Searching
In the blessings it brings.
Rarely does this come uncursed,
Truly heard and understood; yet
The notes do weave together,
Driven together by the deluge of light.
We all sleep, troubled souls unthinking
Of the miracles that push forth each day.
The sweet bird sings not of silence,
The new day that no one has met,
But of the shining grace
Conducting all fates together.
All to one.
Singing low, soft without menace,
Searching
In the blessings it brings.
Rarely does this come uncursed,
Truly heard and understood; yet
The notes do weave together,
Driven together by the deluge of light.
We all sleep, troubled souls unthinking
Of the miracles that push forth each day.
The sweet bird sings not of silence,
The new day that no one has met,
But of the shining grace
Conducting all fates together.
All to one.
Magnolia Tree (IV)
Shadows bathe, low and warm
Harmonies to the shy new light.
Leaves droop, but behold revelry-
They are a garish, fluttering green.
Such is the rare moment, reservation-
Nature's finest face in modest veils,
Pale peculiar pearls of creamy sheen-
Carved, exquisitely layered,
In thick chains of light and shadow.
Like a garment well made, it lasts-
Four seasons, still a fresh sensation.
Simply, the spotlight quickens elsewhere,
An audience still unsought.
Harmonies to the shy new light.
Leaves droop, but behold revelry-
They are a garish, fluttering green.
Such is the rare moment, reservation-
Nature's finest face in modest veils,
Pale peculiar pearls of creamy sheen-
Carved, exquisitely layered,
In thick chains of light and shadow.
Like a garment well made, it lasts-
Four seasons, still a fresh sensation.
Simply, the spotlight quickens elsewhere,
An audience still unsought.
If He Sleeps Soundly Tonight
If he sleeps soundly tonight, then
I'll taste the pink coral winds,
Rushed through unprepared morn,
While they still brew behind their canvas.
If he sleeps soundly tonight,
I'll close my eyes, feel phantom roses
Grace glass lips ajar, an empty scent bouquet.
It awaits, the single bloom
That spring did not touch.
If he sleeps soundly tonight, then
I may forever paint him in good grace;
Another, born of the same batch,
Yet I see my champion.
I'll taste the pink coral winds,
Rushed through unprepared morn,
While they still brew behind their canvas.
If he sleeps soundly tonight,
I'll close my eyes, feel phantom roses
Grace glass lips ajar, an empty scent bouquet.
It awaits, the single bloom
That spring did not touch.
If he sleeps soundly tonight, then
I may forever paint him in good grace;
Another, born of the same batch,
Yet I see my champion.
Night Rises
Night becomes a floating city;
Our dead ambitions walk and
Make gardens pass the walls
Into the houses.
Everything outside falls away;
Only the moon is true.
Most close their thick doors,
Suspended on an endless sea.
A world of windows, no walls-
(Shadows fill and sink them)
The feeling never quite drains way,
Come tomorrow, as
Only the tide retreats.
Our dead ambitions walk and
Make gardens pass the walls
Into the houses.
Everything outside falls away;
Only the moon is true.
Most close their thick doors,
Suspended on an endless sea.
A world of windows, no walls-
(Shadows fill and sink them)
The feeling never quite drains way,
Come tomorrow, as
Only the tide retreats.
Transitions
I wonder where we go at night;
When all tasks of the day resign themselves,
Dreams find themselves softly
Resurrected, in the silence.
They tangle together
In warmth that we steal away-
taken from those who don't sleep,
suspend their lives to breathe.
Music plays as time dances into place
For those who still move along.
In silence, the rest keep hoping
Tomorrow will gently ease in.
When all tasks of the day resign themselves,
Dreams find themselves softly
Resurrected, in the silence.
They tangle together
In warmth that we steal away-
taken from those who don't sleep,
suspend their lives to breathe.
Music plays as time dances into place
For those who still move along.
In silence, the rest keep hoping
Tomorrow will gently ease in.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Clipped
When he takes my hand,
i remember we're not meant to fly,
astound or rewind (our) clockwork orange;
the world was already on its knees,
dull with marionette lies,
gypsy jigs pounding coins on pavement,
only half alive, from who knows where.
the sky was snuck a forgery,
with moons coaxed from paste;
mercy disbanded and blank contracts
filled with something else.
I hug him and keep wishing,
I cut a little piece of reflection
Gently where it frayed from Night;
My eyes sting with salt.
Perhaps the moonlight would not fall,
Swell into its etched tattoo-
That changing mask upon the sea-
If we would just give it all away.
i remember we're not meant to fly,
astound or rewind (our) clockwork orange;
the world was already on its knees,
dull with marionette lies,
gypsy jigs pounding coins on pavement,
only half alive, from who knows where.
the sky was snuck a forgery,
with moons coaxed from paste;
mercy disbanded and blank contracts
filled with something else.
I hug him and keep wishing,
I cut a little piece of reflection
Gently where it frayed from Night;
My eyes sting with salt.
Perhaps the moonlight would not fall,
Swell into its etched tattoo-
That changing mask upon the sea-
If we would just give it all away.
Paradise
Lovers do not choose
Which springs should fall as memories,
Which hold summer so close
to their chill shawls,
Seasons sneak by in a matter of days.
Sheets of rain may wrap the world
So deeply in a cocoon, all things tied
to an endless metamorphosis;
Every moment is suspended.
Sunlight may cascade, just the same-
New wanderers made of us-
Entwined in pastels, or saturated
with everything under the sky.
Whatever it should be,
We find ourselves drawn together.
Which springs should fall as memories,
Which hold summer so close
to their chill shawls,
Seasons sneak by in a matter of days.
Sheets of rain may wrap the world
So deeply in a cocoon, all things tied
to an endless metamorphosis;
Every moment is suspended.
Sunlight may cascade, just the same-
New wanderers made of us-
Entwined in pastels, or saturated
with everything under the sky.
Whatever it should be,
We find ourselves drawn together.
The World and I
I have lived my life many a time,
Spun years and years upon a day.
I have seen the joy I wished to see,
Yet all alone, these memories sway.
I have seen a sunset a hundred ways,
In varying degrees, every sky does yield.
Upon the see, these stories went,
And seldom missed a storm to field.
I have loved my loves, unwrote goodbyes,
Gave reason to myth not true.
Am I to expect an answer
For the things I did not do?
Spun years and years upon a day.
I have seen the joy I wished to see,
Yet all alone, these memories sway.
I have seen a sunset a hundred ways,
In varying degrees, every sky does yield.
Upon the see, these stories went,
And seldom missed a storm to field.
I have loved my loves, unwrote goodbyes,
Gave reason to myth not true.
Am I to expect an answer
For the things I did not do?
Artist
A saint of all silent souls,
the most content gentleman is.
Gloved words trailed in incense
Upon the altar of hopes;
He placed a sacrifice long ago.
Now, his eyes hold a candle,
Drops of fragrant spring unlit, waiting
To be let out, then kept
In thin porcelain for another day.
Thus, his heart is tucked, sowed
In all of the trails he strolled-
New treasure maps, libations
To shatter young girls' dreams.
the most content gentleman is.
Gloved words trailed in incense
Upon the altar of hopes;
He placed a sacrifice long ago.
Now, his eyes hold a candle,
Drops of fragrant spring unlit, waiting
To be let out, then kept
In thin porcelain for another day.
Thus, his heart is tucked, sowed
In all of the trails he strolled-
New treasure maps, libations
To shatter young girls' dreams.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Spoken word
A world began, not long ago,
Bound by rope, which burned too slow,
Lit by fire, blood and soul, but
Fell upon a peace (not whole),
As they wore and as they went,
Marked by words marked heaven sent,
Love thy master, in Earth and sky,
Love not thy freedom, thy wings to fly,
Live thy life, unto the soil.
For amazing grace you toil.
He can't beat you, as you sing,
You'll see mercy, come your spring.
First, the luck, and then the right,
As all men should,
To bear the plight
In a world with sorrow and greed
To find his plae and his good deed.
A long time coming, a long way gone,
Came the voice, the dream, the dawn.
A renaissance, a movement, a cause to bear
For the future, hope sowed there.
Hope, in voices unbound by chains,
Be they gold, platinum, or iron remains,
The voice of reason, a song to rise,
Not caged by anger, or false compromise.
Lessons learned, with lessons come,
Setbacks, fools, ignorance, and then some
Languish in the chains long cast,
Not knowing, not knowing time has past.
Hope, understanding, knowledge to rise,
Wars, panic, opportunity in disguise.
Dreams, ideals, open hearts overcome
These things that bind us,
To light we succumb.
Bound by rope, which burned too slow,
Lit by fire, blood and soul, but
Fell upon a peace (not whole),
As they wore and as they went,
Marked by words marked heaven sent,
Love thy master, in Earth and sky,
Love not thy freedom, thy wings to fly,
Live thy life, unto the soil.
For amazing grace you toil.
He can't beat you, as you sing,
You'll see mercy, come your spring.
First, the luck, and then the right,
As all men should,
To bear the plight
In a world with sorrow and greed
To find his plae and his good deed.
A long time coming, a long way gone,
Came the voice, the dream, the dawn.
A renaissance, a movement, a cause to bear
For the future, hope sowed there.
Hope, in voices unbound by chains,
Be they gold, platinum, or iron remains,
The voice of reason, a song to rise,
Not caged by anger, or false compromise.
Lessons learned, with lessons come,
Setbacks, fools, ignorance, and then some
Languish in the chains long cast,
Not knowing, not knowing time has past.
Hope, understanding, knowledge to rise,
Wars, panic, opportunity in disguise.
Dreams, ideals, open hearts overcome
These things that bind us,
To light we succumb.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Progress
The sheer manner strives
to dance through life
but gray would find a way-
a tiptoe through the fairy tale,
sheer blindness, in that fray.
black becomes a miracle,
The ghost upon the dawn:
Peel it back, discard the stain
that sunset sits upon.
Scrape away the dark old spring,
Every root, every lost scent,
Drown the hands in myths of green,
The brown, all graves' descent.
should it live (As it may)
as left upon the right,
Set the people to its side
And let them see the light.
to dance through life
but gray would find a way-
a tiptoe through the fairy tale,
sheer blindness, in that fray.
black becomes a miracle,
The ghost upon the dawn:
Peel it back, discard the stain
that sunset sits upon.
Scrape away the dark old spring,
Every root, every lost scent,
Drown the hands in myths of green,
The brown, all graves' descent.
should it live (As it may)
as left upon the right,
Set the people to its side
And let them see the light.
Tigress
Dazzling purple eyes, pinned
(Dreamt the tiger, spied in the clear)
With gold relief, diamond rimmed
Glory (his nature failed).
More and more, it seemed,
Her song of chained pauses sprung
A trap for his night, diluted
The bruise upon the day.
Her emptiness told him all
Amid the wind, unto the sea
As she broke sheets of pleated surf
From the midnight sand:
He would never go back.
(Dreamt the tiger, spied in the clear)
With gold relief, diamond rimmed
Glory (his nature failed).
More and more, it seemed,
Her song of chained pauses sprung
A trap for his night, diluted
The bruise upon the day.
Her emptiness told him all
Amid the wind, unto the sea
As she broke sheets of pleated surf
From the midnight sand:
He would never go back.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Arachne
Fresh roses crumble with slow rains,
Thorns tearing lacy spun silk, your
Rags fit to be burned,
Drowned in my bloodied envy!
Shall it be you, threading, mingling
These broken hands of time-
Of no use to me, which
I banish from my night?
I made it so, that peace
Comes only in rain;
In undone quicksilver strand
No sorrow runs unspun.
Thorns tearing lacy spun silk, your
Rags fit to be burned,
Drowned in my bloodied envy!
Shall it be you, threading, mingling
These broken hands of time-
Of no use to me, which
I banish from my night?
I made it so, that peace
Comes only in rain;
In undone quicksilver strand
No sorrow runs unspun.
Immortal
It was here I saw you first,
Not mortal, but still
Plundering old dreams, roses
From a looking glass.
In youth, the porcelain dolls
Smiled upon cold hearts,
All left far behind
Waiting for a real girl.
Then I realized, with
Dripping paint staining
Your cold shroud, that
You were the one.
Not mortal, but still
Plundering old dreams, roses
From a looking glass.
In youth, the porcelain dolls
Smiled upon cold hearts,
All left far behind
Waiting for a real girl.
Then I realized, with
Dripping paint staining
Your cold shroud, that
You were the one.
Persephone
She was the face of spring,
Irises flowering deep in her eyes, falling
Sweet rain beaded and swept
An unpinned curtain of hair.
Like fire, she came, feverishly warm, dancing
Her laugh, the lyrical refrain
Etched in the trickling current-
Crystal living threads in the ice
Whispered that spring was here.
Of course, that truth wilted,
And all blooms fell to dust
When she ceased to dine with me.
Irises flowering deep in her eyes, falling
Sweet rain beaded and swept
An unpinned curtain of hair.
Like fire, she came, feverishly warm, dancing
Her laugh, the lyrical refrain
Etched in the trickling current-
Crystal living threads in the ice
Whispered that spring was here.
Of course, that truth wilted,
And all blooms fell to dust
When she ceased to dine with me.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Mist
Lady, with the lace,
Lady, with the shroud,
This Lady, who spun
And knit the cloud,
It was a lazy, unkempt morn,
And early as could be,
Upon five days of endless rain
She dried upon the sea.
Her days and days without the dawn
Were days without a sky,
All of this had gone for wash
And came back barely dry.
She'd watch the sunset,
Her sister vain
Gather all her trains,
Washed so clean of all the dye,
Naught but gray remains.
That pleased her, Lady,
That pleased her fine.
"For once!", she thought,
"Gowns plain like mine."
Lady, with the shroud,
This Lady, who spun
And knit the cloud,
It was a lazy, unkempt morn,
And early as could be,
Upon five days of endless rain
She dried upon the sea.
Her days and days without the dawn
Were days without a sky,
All of this had gone for wash
And came back barely dry.
She'd watch the sunset,
Her sister vain
Gather all her trains,
Washed so clean of all the dye,
Naught but gray remains.
That pleased her, Lady,
That pleased her fine.
"For once!", she thought,
"Gowns plain like mine."
The Long Season
Unblemished night,
the sweet sleeper
Waltzes with the storm,
Blind muse, blind fury blitz
Chased by the morn.
The thunder calls his mistress
Who runs around and around,
A twisting smile still there
As the sky turns in revelry.
She's dizzy, dear, endless silks tear,
Beads shrieking, snapping,
Snaring, scraping glass
Upon the roof, ice threads
With phantom spiders and all.
The maid will come,
The moon, but in a trice
To find herself knee deep,
Ankles wet, gown stained
In all excess to bask.
All this, all this
For the keeper of night,
When sleepers sleep again.
the sweet sleeper
Waltzes with the storm,
Blind muse, blind fury blitz
Chased by the morn.
The thunder calls his mistress
Who runs around and around,
A twisting smile still there
As the sky turns in revelry.
She's dizzy, dear, endless silks tear,
Beads shrieking, snapping,
Snaring, scraping glass
Upon the roof, ice threads
With phantom spiders and all.
The maid will come,
The moon, but in a trice
To find herself knee deep,
Ankles wet, gown stained
In all excess to bask.
All this, all this
For the keeper of night,
When sleepers sleep again.
Magnolia Tree (III)
Shrouded in silhouette,
The sunset sweeps as winds
Slice at waxed confine:
Fair ladys' palms clenched
Against the wind azure,
But shadows on the bark;
Shining leaves woven for summer
Are dark and satin gloved,
Their memory to mourn.
The layers shed, the bud
Becomes sweet and warm
With the passing day.
It seems the farthest,
Most quiet the air
When the sky is worn to hold
More cloud upon the sea.
The sunset sweeps as winds
Slice at waxed confine:
Fair ladys' palms clenched
Against the wind azure,
But shadows on the bark;
Shining leaves woven for summer
Are dark and satin gloved,
Their memory to mourn.
The layers shed, the bud
Becomes sweet and warm
With the passing day.
It seems the farthest,
Most quiet the air
When the sky is worn to hold
More cloud upon the sea.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Lady in the Moon
Sweet Lady, that muse
Who wears no shoes,
Yet tiptoes the clouds
Upon soft rains;
She comes with tides
And coldest day,
When twinkling stars
Are led astray.
She longs to swim the salty sea,
To tread the furthest shore,
Far away from the end of sky,
Far from her front door.
The tallest waves but grace her gate,
The highest peaks but pins,
Her gown of midnight, breath of dew
Sigh as our world spins.
There, the stories, ours to hold,
And rarely, Lady sees
Such a tale in her night sky
And minds so bright as these.
They are ours, here below,
Waiting, just the same,
Like Lady, like you
Who turns this page,
To give a tale a name.
Lady, the muse for many a pen
Shares a mortal's dream:
In this world of endless sights,
Hold all days in esteem.
Who wears no shoes,
Yet tiptoes the clouds
Upon soft rains;
She comes with tides
And coldest day,
When twinkling stars
Are led astray.
She longs to swim the salty sea,
To tread the furthest shore,
Far away from the end of sky,
Far from her front door.
The tallest waves but grace her gate,
The highest peaks but pins,
Her gown of midnight, breath of dew
Sigh as our world spins.
There, the stories, ours to hold,
And rarely, Lady sees
Such a tale in her night sky
And minds so bright as these.
They are ours, here below,
Waiting, just the same,
Like Lady, like you
Who turns this page,
To give a tale a name.
Lady, the muse for many a pen
Shares a mortal's dream:
In this world of endless sights,
Hold all days in esteem.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Where Ideas Should Begin
No leaves do dance upon my palm,
I hold no song of elves,
Yet human voices coax it sing,
(They let go of themselves.)
The marbled moor, its fair faced queen
Empty of night's souls,
Only in dreams to vessels fill:
When sunrise overflows.
(This world of magic,
My lady lore,
And all these told
I've seen before.)
The sunrise coral on murky sea,
And no fish blinks an eye,
Feeding on the broken tap
At the end of sky.
(I've seen it happen,
It's happened before.
Perhaps each day,
Perhaps of yore.)
The tap will dry upon the morn,
And then they'll wake and see,
Their sun will rise, a fading rose
Wilting in decree:
"There was the secret, spoken before.
Hence the silence, and sleep no more."
I hold no song of elves,
Yet human voices coax it sing,
(They let go of themselves.)
The marbled moor, its fair faced queen
Empty of night's souls,
Only in dreams to vessels fill:
When sunrise overflows.
(This world of magic,
My lady lore,
And all these told
I've seen before.)
The sunrise coral on murky sea,
And no fish blinks an eye,
Feeding on the broken tap
At the end of sky.
(I've seen it happen,
It's happened before.
Perhaps each day,
Perhaps of yore.)
The tap will dry upon the morn,
And then they'll wake and see,
Their sun will rise, a fading rose
Wilting in decree:
"There was the secret, spoken before.
Hence the silence, and sleep no more."
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Where Ideas Begin
No leaves do dance upon my palm,
I hold no song of elves.
Yet human voices rouse it sing;
(They let go of themselves).
The silk thread sky, the marble moon
Empty of their glow.
Only dreams do whispers fill
Of sunsets staining slow.
(This world of magic,
Our world of lore.
And all I've told,
I've seen before.)
Coral sunrise, the murky seas
Where no fish blinks an eye,
Feeding on the broken tap
At the end of sky.
(I've seen this happen,
It's happened before.
Perhaps each day,
Perhaps of yore.)
This tap, it dries upon the sun,
And then they'll wake and see.
On a bed of fading rose,
There the riches be.
"This is the song I've heard before.
These lines known, there will be more."
I hold no song of elves.
Yet human voices rouse it sing;
(They let go of themselves).
The silk thread sky, the marble moon
Empty of their glow.
Only dreams do whispers fill
Of sunsets staining slow.
(This world of magic,
Our world of lore.
And all I've told,
I've seen before.)
Coral sunrise, the murky seas
Where no fish blinks an eye,
Feeding on the broken tap
At the end of sky.
(I've seen this happen,
It's happened before.
Perhaps each day,
Perhaps of yore.)
This tap, it dries upon the sun,
And then they'll wake and see.
On a bed of fading rose,
There the riches be.
"This is the song I've heard before.
These lines known, there will be more."
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Subscribe!
Posts
All Comments
