The song of the ney blends
with the dunes:
as ancient paths
follow footsteps out,
into the wilderness of the desert,
seeking a truth greater
than constricted life settled allows;
The percussion of the drum,
stopping at wells
dotting the scape, where,
the earth pours her agony forth
from her sorrowing depths,
the prophet's sons wept for God.
The grieving oases mourn
wound, of long
a heart searching the
sands, for one who gave his life
for the love of his Lord
here and his humble fellow man.
The allusion is to the Holy Land, where long ago, patriarchs wandered into the desert, seeking a greater Truth. Where by many wells, they settled seeking God. And where, an illustrious descendant transcended kin and race, to preach a universal gospel of love: 'Before Abraham was, I am' ...
Context and commentary here: http://sineinverse.wordpress.com/2013/12/06/the-thirst-for-redemption/
The ney is a middle eastern reed flute, long associated with spiritual traditions of the region.
Get out of the light
And kiss me goodbye if you need to
One second is all to get used to
The feeling of being beneath you
Can I meet you on the other side
And if it's bitter-tasting and see-through
But is the bloody-scream always true
From dust to dust we go
Follow me around again
This repetitious cycle stinks of venom
But I like the smell of it
This syringe's the kind of killer
You can only inject mentally
If I drink this poison
Will it kill my enemies?
She lays again down in her bedroom
Seeking council from committing taboo
In your dreams I will meet you
But this sin is something you can't undo
But in the night we can always rendezvous
If you want to, I'll run away with you
In another time we can start anew
Look at what you've gotten me into
Sick of the tide, and the heavy fetish you cling to
Or the darkest feelings you pursue
In the night this is why I don't chase you
'Cause that mind isn't big enough for two
Spent half of your life
Waiting for friends that don't even know you
For a man who wants to control you
And a love life that only can own you
I'm seeking vengeance
for the missing feeling.
The cold air of truth.
It never felt so unfamiliar.
So blindly she loves it.
She lets it take her away
to a simpler place.
Golden skin and iron innards
Flake away. Faded.
Failed and flooded to the brim,
Throwing up will make you beautiful
After all, beauty is pain
Waxing every square inch of your human body
Squeezing into those Spanx to hide your smallest flaws
Your daughter, she needs help with her eating disorder
There's no beauty in that. Strictly pain.
Or telling your 20 year old best friend everyday for 6 years a size 3 isn't anywhere neat fat
Having the same conversation with a 10 year old girl: is that any more beautiful? No.
Forget that beauty isn't painful
A mother experiencing excruciating pain yet forgetting it all when she holds her child for the first time
Death of a man with terminal illness--all the pain built up to the soul finally at ease
The battered woman seeking courage to break free and begin new life
Actual emphasis to "beauty is pain" is one who pushes through the undesired struggle-- beauty is the reward
Remember that beauty can be painful
What's beautiful in your life?
Oh, you don't get the credit until your kids are grown.
Probably ponder, why you wanted one?
After all the problems they cause.
Those little pest.
Making a housely mess.
Always seeking breakfast.
Even after they have been fed.
Those that requires your attention.
Whether ironing their clothes from their dresses to their pants.
Parents, of an older generation might still call them britches.
Like a judge in a criminal court.
You're the judge of their thinking grown decision.
Destroying the house.
The television and yes, even the computers.
Or anything that comes to mind.
What would we do without them?
Things we fails to honor them for.
Or to be grateful to them for.
Only comes more to mind when they are older.
Or when they have departed.
Parents, they deserve so much more.
I thank God for mine.(Just knowing them)
I hope you thank Him for yours.
I could tell whoopers and get you in trouble
or take a lover and run off to Europe, Asia or
Africa where you, mom and gold digger can't find me.
Got some nibbles on the net when I placed an ad
seeking someone to take me away from this
miserable existence I call my no fairy tale life.
I could travel incognito and wear a Burqa in a far
off place where you can't come unless you leave
skank at home wearing shorts up to her parts
that are half covered by tight and short teenager
clothes she still wears to keep you from looking
at all the ladies on facebook you still friend and
chat with behind her back. That would make your
gold digging pissed if she knew what you did
when she wasn't logged to facebook. She thinks she
got you tied to her for eternity and for ever more.
Look at me and mom evil bitch! He was mom's and
now you think he's yours. I'm glad I'm 18 and can
live where ever I want. I found a way to get out of the
country when I get my passport I ordered in a few
weeks. It will be bye bye dad, skank, and baby
sibling I dad never told me about forever. BUT,
I think I will miss my mother even if she is
dumb and believed her life was a fairy tale
then she found out dad the freaking loser was
There is no one I want to talk to more right now than you.
There is no one I want to see die more right now than you.
No one I want to see have their dreams crushed, hope shredded, body bruised,
standing before the alter with the glory of Athena, hold in the soft cradle
of my arms as you draw your last breath,
You are the name on my lips as I drift into peaceful slumber.
You are the screaming nightmare thrashing in soaked blankets, as I rip apart
my chest, desperately seeking the heart you stole.
"You stole my heart" - as if I could condense your achingly beautiful soul into
that crusted cliche, this drivel of words, jumbled, trying to make sense of
You who I will never get over.
You who I will never drive completely from my mind.
You who I will never heal from.
You who I will never forget.
You consume my future, as you consumed my past.
But I can no longer hate
You. Nor hate another, nor love another, nor ever feel any semblance of anything
You shattered my passion when you shattered my heart.
I've never been able to find either since.
I'm so afraid of you now
Depressed by my own fears
And the tears that urge away
Into the darkness you make in me
There was trust and passion once
Kept in the jewel box of my heart
Keyless, in my pure trust
You'd let the dark alone
Things have changed like a dial
Fading certainty with the light
That once showed me of your true self
Shadowed against the night
Too afraid to let you know
Of the pain you sketch inside of me
I fall soulless, bruised, exposed
Seeking the remnants of your truth
Alone and so afraid of you
Ruined in the violence of such grief
A miasma of betrayal cries
A pitying whisper into the abyss
Where it at?
Where is that emotion that gives you substance?
Where it at?
As we journey through this unpredictable world in search for it.
We find sometimes it's simply impossible to locate it.
We find we're simply on a love's quest seeking answers.
On a matter that has serious matters.
Because like Ecclesiastes, states everything has its time.
A time of war.
A time of peace.
A time of hate.
A time to love.
We must seek our own happiness that's pleasing to us.
What's love existence requires is for us to love?
And upon this love's quest I'm determine to be yours.
Jesus has his mission.
Columbus has his.
And they both conquer them without seeking attention.
Love seek out those in need.
For our wants are used as a tool.
We been told within our life time.
Whatever you ask for?
Will eventually come.
Even if you're a traveler just passing by.
every morning when she wake up
she goes to a school, living hell
full of demonic creatures in a 2x2 room
seeking angels, nobody could tell
the people in front caused her anxiety
secretly telling her she's not good enough
she was full of explosion and tears
behind her eyes, a person that is never tough
high grades, everyone's defiance and armor
tendrils of depression and agony appeared
inside her head, things that are glory and gore
tired lungs and tired body, wishing to end this
everybody wants to rule the world and escape
those demons raising us into something we're not
making us more fiendish, full of rebellion
some of us give up and some of us fought