and Thus I fell upon the sword of my predilection
A moment of divine inspiration gone astray
This dish of red and beating bread
Cast aside refrain
On shelf ******
a mote of dust
To Wait
another day.
...at what point does patience become denial
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
I Sleep next to dreams
as lofty words on wasted reams
a miss used time
or ends to means
this mush of patience
restrains to sin
through will of mind
contained within
lay that to waste
what aspires to be
oh hidden fate
in elegancey
I close mine eyes
withhold thy needs
care not to cause
few misread deeds
whom only lead to spiteful seeds
Moon beams wane
and dissipate cross frosty panes
a gauge of time
ticked off by rain
this music made sweet serenade
a leitmotif of dreams past played
on morning comes & brings the sun
the brightest star
of Apollo's hour
and Ea's desire
though all I aspire
this union of fire
of earth well worth we wait within
deep sleep and reap our body's heat
oh perfect form
thoughts while I gaze
attention divided
open field fed by maze
-2006
Feb 11, 2010
Feb 11, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
It is in this hour,
as the exposure of day gives way to the intimacy of dark,
when all plans cease to matter
and the very air relaxes from reverberations of days clutter.
darkness smooths out the bumps of light,
softening annoyances
and lending much needed contrast to things that matter most.
We behave truest in our darkest hour
Feb 4, 2010
Feb 4, 2010 at 8:09 AM UTC
It's silly all the thought that goes into writing poetry.
The poems that count are the ones which require no thought at all.
when you asked me to write you a poem, gave me a deadline
I knew I would fail. Had failed.
Now.
The words on this paper will not bring you back
they won't wage wars in the name of God or love
won't rise up off the paper when all that's needed is an embrace.
These words are no more than lead on paper
strained attempts at funneling thoughts
distilled down to something somewhat legible
no more tangible then words spoken aloud.
dust on the wind so to speak,
fully capable of bringing tear to eye despite their inanimate position.
I need a drink, the burn of fire water to cleanse my soul
Poor me another, cause I can still see the floor
Feb 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010 at 1:52 PM UTC
Swing my phallus,
a lame attempt to keep balance on this spinning rock.
Better ruled by short stick then take stock in anything serious.
mind shut move forward
what we can't see certainly can't hear us.
Only an ******* pumps fists
This abashed soul lumps his blame on the short comings of others.
Disdain, a fort built from pillows and covers
tumbles under the absent look given by scorned lovers...
I picked a rose
pricked a finger
now my love is left to linger with thoughts of red blood
all because I was too impatient to grasp it
a casket lies in reserve for this paper soul
it doesn't take a fool to see that penciled trees won't grow
so here i stand thumb up head down
gratuity, a hole filled with water and rubish
forms beauty in this mind an oil rainbow doth permiss
But thats just it
a shimmer, a sheen
that gleam a thin slice of cold metal
the only rebuttal a reflection, depth shallow
if mirrors speak no lies pull thIs finger out of a hat
devise an angle to cut glass which speaks truth
not crap, or a whacked crack at fact.
A fallacy presented forms false return
allows me repentance from all that i've learned.
Solace in dreams?
a world of things
which feints refuge, gives refuse and meddles
muddied the sleep sought to steal from the night
replaced it with fists, your form, and a fight
a plight is where i stand to sit
despite the case i planned to rip
Eyes turn to days distracted thoughts juggled
nights turned to pains, sore throats, bloodied knuckles
Upside down
or inside out?
... to be continued
-2010
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 12:11 PM UTC
Is it worth my time to rhyme
or should i just state my case
and place this dime in line with the
others waiting patiently for a chance to be
exchanged for a song to sing along
monger thoughts about doubts and clouds
hot girls or conquered worlds
fast cars and false stars
bop to the beat bequeath further ideas
or lies so I'm told by authorities
brought to tears for a neglected world
flag unfurled of false ideals and
reals of red tape to bind hands
stunt plans of mans
minds evolution ever we should
grow to realize nothing even justifies
this disregard for free energy
and unrestricted mental tenacity
Let morals rule 'sted scripted paths
reinforced by stave and threats
of hells frightful burning fiery vats
-2007
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 12:10 PM UTC
Awake I lie at foot of hedge
In sleep I stake my claim
These enigmatic poses read
Delve crossroads good and vain
Determined not by what was said
befuddled state remained
And though the sun shone forth so clear
a fog floats present fear to veer
this course I would retain
So still to seek
a path I must
through this leaf lined elusive muck
Some things are lost
Long left for dust
with time to heal pain (and trust)
But should a solemn path hold true
and light my weary way
a price, a goal, a trove en full
mean nothing
lest it's you
-2006
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 11:47 AM UTC