7/7/2011 9:53:49 AM |
Blind Love
I’m in love with a blind man, but, he won’t see me this afternoon I’m in love with a blind man, but, he won’t lasso me the moon He never looks me in the eye, you see I don’t know, at all, what he sees in me I’m in love with a blind man, and this I do not feign Yet, if he knew I wrote this, he’d beat me with his cane |
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7/7/2011 9:52:56 AM |
There was a time .. .. when she was knee high to a grasshopper, shooting up like a beansprout, all sugar and spice and everything nice, when she believed the world was rife with those things later found to be no more than badly tattered myths: love, justice, mercy, hope.
She had read about them, seen them represented in movies, and it only came to her slowly, the realization that it was only the modern day version of the old freak shows. What was on display was not real, but, everyone wanted to believe it was, so that there would be something more in the world than the gray, scotch guarded interiors of their hearts held.
“Ah!” I hear you think, “But, then, that is hope, is it not?” No! That is not hope. It is more like with greed, that they desired those finer qualities to exist. “All for me, none for thee!” was how the longing song sang itself in their hearts, on those tiny violins that are cruelly wielded on fingertip to those in need.
Yes, they were on display, and like at a freak show, everything on display was a falsity or something twisted, born wrong, or purposely altered to suit someone’s need for cold, hard cash.
As the years went along, her heart closed itself off, shut itself down. There were boards, nails; booby traps were set under the windowsills, in case someone would try to sneak in. Her mind, however, she wrapped in barb-wire, so that her wit could tear chunks out of those who got too close, yet, she could still see who they were.
Don’t get me wrong, because this was not a girl of depression, of misery; she was a girl who wept with passion and praise for Jehovah when she sat beneath one of His glorious painted wonders.
She accepted her fate, or whatever it be called, that there was no love, even when, as time progressed further, she realized that there was no love for her; but, there was some love for others, even if not of the kind spoken of with longing. She accepted that, for her, everything came with a price, a balance.
The sunsets were gorgeous where she lived, at the top of the world, but, only because the dust that made her headache, her sinuses bleed, that kept her from sleeping, intermingled with the light of the sun and made it so.
Such was life. |
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7/7/2011 9:51:19 AM |
It probably means nothing
There’s a lady who’s sure all that glitters is gold
And, she is standing there, inside my mirror
She glitters, but, her arse is made purely of lead
There are two paths, only two paths, as is said
There is too, there is fro, for life, or to be dead
To dream of else is to assume that all that glitters is gold, rather than that gold is all that does shine
Though both, in truth, are outrageous falsity
Halcyon firmament betwixt our teeth doth not
Allow a meal to be made of Heaven in perversity
She stands in the mirror, mocking my existence
Where she came from, how she came, I cannot say
Well, no one told me about her, the way she lied
With her body, taunting, she leads them on a trek
To Gehenna, to Gehenna, where the faith already died
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7/7/2011 9:50:24 AM |
That man
With a voice like dripping melted butterscotch
He breathes life into me, through fiber optics
Drowning me in, encasing me in amber glory
I am caught again, alive again, through him
I am flower, blooming at touch of sunlight
I am desert earth, drinking in the raindrops
I am a tree, shaken by the force of breath
I am once dust, now transformed to clay
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7/7/2011 9:49:55 AM |
Sometimes ..
.. when I’m alone at night, half asleep, I become myself. Inky thoughts run through my brain. and fill out pages
There is laughter, death, mirth, tears are found, profound
All is oh so very much write with the world in half slumber
The pain, the fog, of this mortal chassis is swept away then
And, my mind can play, unfettered by flesh and anxiety
I am myself, with thoughts, ideals, fancies, and abilities
Then I waken, and feel the words slipping quickly away
As the storm sweeps in, with lightning pain and brain fog
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7/7/2011 9:46:55 AM |
The snow flies, falls, settles into nooks and crannies, covering over all, changing view
Underneath all, down below frozen earth, grow still the roots of most tenacious weed
It cannot be stopped, scythed down, burnt up, plucked out, cajoled, or tricked away
Let the winds moan on, let the cold bite against the world, let frost enter in
Soon comes the Spring, with the traveling of the sun, and, again, it blooms |
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7/7/2011 9:46:24 AM |
In your lying eyes, lays the wasteland
Beckoning to me to step inside
Rest my weary head and let my heart decide
Yet, I have already lost the game of love.
I have traversed your depths
Trekked many a weary mile
Swam the ocean of your soul
Hoping to reach your smile.
Now, spent and broken I stop to rest
On the cold cliff of reason
Perhaps it is best for it to end
Yet I take breath and dive
Trusting that angel He send
To catch my fall
I got to be a lover
Should I tumble downwardand lay bleeding ever more
At least I took the chance
Isn’t that what love is for?
It’s only, only, onlymy heart talking.
Hard hearted Alice never tumbled down hole so wellas I tumbled into your life
With only my soul to sell
I gotta get you into my life
Into my life |
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7/7/2011 9:44:57 AM |
Sometimes, when I bleed, it feels like sweet release, the pain of sickness cracking open and flowing free Get it all out of me Sometimes, when I cry, I can feel the pull of the ocean tide,sucking out the life inside, until there is no more me Taking it all out of me I step out onto the pavement and feel the hardness of the world, crushing against my sole, tearing me apart Bleeding back into me But, I collapse into your kisses,like a tesseract representing love, desire, lust, and truth,folding logically Thinking of you in me Not just on the outside Not just to the inside But, all the way around We belong together Dreaming of forever Fingers entwined I bleed some more, again, love my heart pouring into yours until truly we are only one no more just me inside sometimes when I bleed … |
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