Geraniums wilt into the bedrock
behind a treehouse the canyon knew.
The lanterns have extinguished.
Crow in the murder overhead sifts
downward. Below the trundled dune,
poppy after poppy -- hidden in mantling dust --
deafens in its own rustle. Where
is the moon today? Where
does the sky end and wrap
inside its craters?
A caw splits the wind in a palm,
drives it through a lantern's smoke.
We used to watch the lanterns wane
before calling it a night.
We used to put bees in jars
before pulling our blankets up.
We used to sing old gospel songs
before getting out of bed.
I feel older than an ancient discipline,
I swear I was like this before I was born,
I'm trying to discredit my happiness,
but I'm as aimless as ever...
Soon our grinning skeletons will come all unhinged and slide out of our feet as the casual chunks of so much worthless debris. Contagious laughter can be rather gruesome. Blocks upon blocks of television viewing containers echo entire cans of it into increasingly apathetic orbs. Growing loud without purpose, it deafens all who will listen. There is, to date, no cure for this cancer. We don't even really know what we're dealing with here. It is recommended that all civilians tie their shoes tightly, with double-knots if possible.
The mask is slipping
Glass eyes see everything
Dagger cuts deep
Rope binds tight
Kill what's inside
Poison on a supermarket shelf
Death was on sale today
If actions speak louder than words,
Then the quieter I get
the louder I become.
Soon I'll be screaming
At the bottom of my lungs.
Until even my whisper deafens.
With the wave of my hand,
I'll be louder than a freight train.
Every step I take,
Will sound like a stampede.
The further I go,
The closer it will seem.
When each step shakes the pictures from your walls,
Every look left and then right rips the door from the frame you're standing under,
And my deepest breath blows the whole house down
You'll hear me.
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
She represents temporary beauty and the bright blooming that must come full circle through death: She is the promise of autumn visible in spring.
Pronunciation: bluh DIE weth ("th" as in "weather") Alternate spellings: Blodeuedd, Blodewedd.
Selkies (also known as silkies or selchies) are mythological creatures found in Faroese,Icelandic, Irish, and Scottish folklore. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend apparently originated on the Orkney and Shetland Islands and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
I carry monsters some monsters with me; they lived in the dark place that I’m from
They’ve dropped masses to their knees, and their footsteps sound like drums.
But I never heard them coming, despite the fact that they were running
For the worst one of them all, was the one I was becoming
They carry a silence so loud, it rattles the heavens --
Inaudible to the crowd, but my ears it deafens
I feared one day they’d take me over --
Surely, no one could handle this exposure
But their past victims ran… instead, I pulled them closer.
It’s the demons of my past that help me make this moment last,
They brought me to the point where she was just within my grasp.
So I stopped there in that moment, and took a second just to hold it
Paid no mind to the darkness, or the clay from which I’m molded.
And she paid it no mind either; so I pray the monsters don’t deceive her
She’s from the light I’ve never seen, and she’s made me a believer.
These monsters made me blind – taught me to doubt the things I’ve learned
They broke the gears inside, but it was she who made them turn.
The fire had been extinguished, but I swear she made it burn.
And she made that flame burn bright, to be my guide throughout the night
She and I both saw the sparks, but knew not fire they’d ignite.
If this is wrong, I can’t be right; she’s my lantern in the night.
And I may be from the darkness, but one needs dark to see the light.
A fool sits alone.
Not dumb but naïve
drinking ideals that were both sweet
and biting on the uvula of his thoughts-
thoughts that once resonated
from truth no longer ring true.
This terminus of sentiments that started veritable journeys
in the muck of questionable sources
housed his hopes
while he dared to dream of a day these hopes may be fulfilled.
But over hills and plains filled with grating winds
of inquiring eyes looking for lies so intently
while false truth slips through their gates,
these hopes gained grit.
Grit built in truth,
and to hazier eyes,
grit grained with wisdom.
So our fool finds himself at a
beginning wrought from this inverted journey,
He’s discovered his truths to be soggy
with the living mire of human deception.
No longer does he sit
with starry eyes
hoping for truth,
he has found it by traveling backwards
through experience until he stands upright
amongst the crawling with lies filling his head.
It is in this moment when all he sees is deceit,
that he knows he has found the truth.
No longer does he believe in it,
he understands how ill-fitting that word has come to be.
In the grand cacophony of the human experience,
the sterling ring of truth deafens.
It takes a qualified lie to reach our hearts.
Like acid falling through my skin, I feel the flicker of the dark
Welcomed by whispers wound up in wargs' cries
I reject the tangible and fading beauty as flowers wilt upon my head
I burrow in my arms with no one else to hold
The silence aims to crucify me
Unwanted this existence deafens me, unraveling my innards
I welcome the parasites to feast, yet they reject me
To feel is all I want, to cry for someone other than myself
I long to hear the symphony of my soul, but all it does is shrill
the last time i flew
it was daylight
i didn’t look out the window.
i look outside and see
a thousand lights;
and each light is
a thousand souls
gaslamp yellow nightscape.
there is space here
and the silence deafens
and beneath the silence there is noise
once in tokyo i had the perfect drink
like electric moonbeams
and secrets soaked in gin.
i taste it here
in the recycled air above the nightscape
while viewing the souls
that may or may not be
the remnants of fevered dreams
while hearing the silence
that is not silence
it is breathing, it is a pulse–
listen with me
if we’re very quiet, we can hear
the faint strains of
filtering through the soft thrum
of wheels and
and a crying baby that’s never tasted
the smoky sweet burn of gin and juniper.
(Original version: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/night-flight-4/)
Music came singing to the sky
It seemed none could sing or fly so high
maybe some birds
like children's laughter
a forgotten eternal spring,
that comes and goes
As if out from a tunnel
the first light deafens silence
wings unfold the soul - whispering
Plain truth in words unspoken
so precious the moments
of being unbroken
So soon the rains come