I step in to the streets where my mind is clear
Nature feels my pain with her rasp in the air
  Singing duets about a girl back home
Dreaming of my baby with her light blonde hair

Laying in the gutter with a knife in my back
Trying to keep warm with this bottle in my hand
  I've got a reputation so I've got to keep it cool
I would take my life but there's the laws of man

My friend says "take a bump to keep your mind at ease
A coked up conscious will set your spirit free"
  Trying to find God but my ritual is insane
Living my life through a lucid dream

Running through Salem with the wind at my back
They execute the sinners with a bloody axe
  Got caught dancing with the ghosts of my past
They'll hang me from a scaffold for my witchcraft

My mind cries warning but my heart don't care
A dozen red roses with a note that reads "beware"
  I want to rise to fame, I'm going to make a deal
The devil takes my soul and the reaper is near

Standing at the threshold in the silent space
between thunder and lightening
Straddling the door sill of uncertainty,
stranded in a continuum of discontent

One foot in…One foot out
It's just a  step away…One foot forward
while the other follows the wanderlust
of an evolving enigma

The first step begins
a journey of a thousand miles
Walk to the end of this long and winding road
Carry the weight of an unfinished life in this soul

Breathe in the stillness
of the tempest calm
The ethereal instant within
the eerie pause  of natural hesitation

The exhilarating silent fusion linking the anticipation
between the bolt of lightning and the thunderclap ;
nature’s well performed sleight of hand
Two souls touch igniting carnal synthesis

Reaching upward to the heavens they draw strength
from the spirit of the lightening and the hail
The ominous sky’s anger … the storm’s fury fuel's the essence of verve
Vibrant celestial elements manifests a drenching downpour

Heightened senses are enhanced by an electric aura
squeezing out every last drop
from the enchanting moment of stunned silence
Spirits transcend a cleansing rain ... invigorating heart of soul ~

©Harlon Rivers 2013 ...February 28th, 2013

I came across a drummer in an open glade
And sat before him to listen for a while;
The beats he played shimmered in the leaves
Causing my spirit to dance in the breeze,
While he closed his eyes to sing his song
And lifted his head to the clear blue sky.
Somehow I found myself doing the same
And in the space between us, my questions came -
Answered by the rhythms in the wind among the trees.

“Tell me, what do the drums speak of?” I whispered to the wind.

“They speak of the mountains, as solid as the earth,
Giving life to clouds and a course for rivers;
They have lasted longer than the oldest buildings,
Yet they must also one day perish -
Without the mountains, there can be no drums.”

“And tell me, what does the rhythm speak of?”

“It speaks of the river that has always flowed, is flowing still,
bringing water to crops and life to the breeze;
Sometimes a torrent and sometimes a brook,
It, too, must one day dissolve in the ocean -
Without the river, there can be no rhythm.”

“And tell me please, what is it that your song speaks of?”

“It speaks of the wind that gives flight to birds and breath to trees,
Heralding the transit of tides and relief from the heat;
Destruction and power dispensed in equal measure -
Unseen by all, yet when my song is gone,
Only the wind will remain.”

And at that moment the drumming stopped,
Like the sound of falling stones;
We lowered our heads, opened our eyes,
And the drummer flashed a dazzling smile,
As bright as the harvest moon.
We returned our gaze to the clear blue sky,
Bordered by mountains and trees,
And I could still hear the rhythm of the endless river
Flowing in the breeze.

I looked down once more only to find that the drummer had disappeared,
Leaving in his invisible wake the fluttering of soft Autumn leaves;
And I remained alone in that open glade, upon the mountain view,
Following the river in it’s course through the glistening trees -

And all the while the wind within me whispered to my soul:

“So it goes”

Once, she was a beautiful doll
Now disheveled and broken
Just a part of the old befall
Of dormant memories, token

With torn-out limbs and blind
Two black holes of despair for eyes
And a heart and mind still aligned
Her awakened spirit is on the rise

Verbiage startled her from her deep,
Hard-earned sense of serenity and sleep
Asking her to trust for it is the only way,
To leave the dusty shelf and play

~Natasha~

When at my lowest
I hum a tune
It sends my spirit to crest
I’m once again immune.
Music
Does the trick
Like magic!
It never pales
Never fails.

Cascade along the midnight street
Allow your feet to lead the way
Past shuttered shops and lowered blinds
And let your mind be led astray
Although some time meandering
And wandering bereft of cares
You find you've stopped and there you stand
Beneath a strand of marble stairs
 
You brush your hand along the rail
As you assail the stony flight
There, at the top a door of brass
And crystal glass reflects the night
A counter cut of fretted oak
Unique, bespoke and petrified
Encroaches on the lobby floor
With doorways on its either side
 
Within them dwells an ailing stage
All worn with age and polished black
And facing this are rows of seats
With velvet pleats and to the back
Resides a heavy curtained box
With silver locks and tapestry
Scenes of the earth and all above
Of love and whimsicality
 
Inside the hall, the lights are out
Yet all about an echo bounds
Of lost applause and orchestras
And raucous, energetic sounds
It's here and now, upon the boards
The darkness hoards a pool of light
Where mingling in motes of dust
And arm is thrust from out of site
 
A quiet amid the hush befalls
Along the stalls, a faceless glare
As set in shades of darkest dim
She glimmers like a solitaire
Her dance describes a careful tone
Each every bone at her command
Her feet tattoo a silent beat
The rhythm meets her open hand
 
Her features null and desolate
Her lips yet to convey a smile
She draws a story with her grace
With shapeless face and all the while
She skips across the empty floor
A dead score from an vacant pit
And through a haze of burning lime
From distant times her dance is lit
 
A swan song of a life cut short
A fable wrought in liquid gloom
Lamenting talent never proved
A bud removed before it's bloom
Its loss a crime against the world
A shadow hurled towards the sun
For such a life slip the hands
As dry sands through the fingers run
 
And now she stands at center stage
A gilded cage she'll never slip
A single tear is seen to leak
about her cheek, across her lip
She stoops a solitary bow
And dips her brow to those unseen
A cacophony of aphony
For her, the girl who's never been
 
A ghostly veil wavers free
As slowly she dissolves in light
Her sparkle spreads and dissipates
Evaporates from empty sight
She never takes a curtain call
No flowers fall about her toes
But still she dances for the dark
A tiny spark of spirit froze


reposted because I'd forgotten all about it

He met her in the courtyard by chance,
though pitted against each other
in a fierce competition, both willingly enrolled,
they fell in love, at fist sight, as if by a hidden cue.

Left out, by this turn, unexpected
they felt, no spirit of competition in them is now left;
two yarns in the magical weave of life
braided in perfect design, excellently blended in quick time,
can any one orchestrate a moment like this?
It's an apparition from the womb of time,  on its iridescent wings
flew down to intervene, on behalf of some spirit, evil or noble
who can tell, except when,  time is ripe.

Life is a walk through dark and enchanted woods
we stop a while where, paths diverge,
and  take one, sometimes by sudden impulse,
most take the beaten ones, the less traveled appeal some,
holding the hand of a beloved bathed in silver light, at the moment,
will it lead to destination or not, one knows not,  that moment is decisive,
at the end as much intervention of fate, if one views that way, as human proclivities.

i came out the dark knight @ a time of Halloween...
October 31st, aka 13!(thirteen)! its like revenge of the shin-obi
when the master ninja intervenes! ill scratch you off my ticket, no ANTIHISTAMINE!
I OPERATE OF PRESURE POWERED BY MY SELF ESTEEM!
life is like a submarine, aka 20,000 leagues
13 FLAMES @ the caliber of 90 degrees,
WHY?  B cuhz his psyche is that of majestic tree$
he grounds his feet magnetically and sails on solar seas,
like dreams i am the cosmic center piece and your in for adventures anytime you mention me.

weathered emotions or emotions are weather, all we endeavor, just REMEMBER, that we're in it 2gether.
i seek for that lyrical gold, the magnificent treasure
where mere letters compose characters for the spirit of a ghost.
i control, their minds like buttons on a remote
juxtaposed isotopes,,,
reran episodes hide the codes, thru magic cloaks,
the lames don't want to feel my fury like thunderbolts
or 13 tornadoes and mashed potatoes.
nova flames ENABLES, his girl to experience rare occasions

Would that I could break my body from my chest
crack and spread the bones between my breasts
release the fluttering muscle tied within
a bird bashing skull against my cage of sin.

Would that I could unzip my flesh, step outside
to finally inhale, exhale without such tightened hide
that keeps my anxious breaths bound among
the shrinking corded confines of my lungs.

Would that I could peel back my ribs and skin
at the sternum to set free the beast within
unfetter the spirit that cares so much it aches
from all the petty failures for which it breaks.

Would that I could scream and rip my hair
as though slicing to ribbons each worry, every care.
Would that I could - would I? I know not.
I would just as soon have all loves be forgot.