I
I was walking through
the forest of life
when I saw in my path
a shade whose spectral form
blocked my way to the
sweet fruits that lay beyond.
II
“Who are you, shade?”
I asked, “Why do I find you
now, in my travels?”
The shade spoke not but
instead pointed down yonder path
and grinned a shade’s grin.
III
Where he pointed I could
see through the space between trees
a castle as black as night from
where it sat brooding on a high hill.
Instantly were the fruits
forgotten, so great my urge
to reach and enter this castle.
IV
When I looked again, the
shade had vanished
and I was alone once more.
Quickly I continued down
the path and towards my goal.
V
The way was long and
as I finally reached the hill
upon which the castle sat
night had begun to fall.
VI
As I looked up, my first thought
was that the castle had vanished
leaving me alone and lost
at the end of the path.
VII
When suddenly I saw a flame
burn from one of its
high windows. I realized
the castle was still there
but as deeply black as the
darkening sky above.
VIII
Soon stars were visible
and the contrast of the infinite
darkness of the castle against them
seemed as if a great black hole
had opened up, revealing
the never ending darkness
that lies beyond what is known.
IX
Up I climbed until I
came to its great gate
and with beating heart
did I gently push it open
and enter the courtyard.
X
In it stood a fountain,
now dry, and beyond that
the crimson door through
which I would gain access
to this mysterious keep.
XI
As I approached the door
I could read the inscription
written by its large metal knocker:
“Behind you lies what is known,
ahead lies the unknown. For what
is behind this door changes everything.”
XII
Slowly did I push the door
and it quickly gave in.
I passed the threshold and
my eyes adjusted to the
the darkness inside.
XIII
As my vision cleared I
saw what lay in the middle of the room:
a pen and a blank piece of paper.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
Beating on steering wheels
& knees waiting for
the rock apocalypse
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
I sit up late contemplating
the apocalypse in your eyes.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 2:09 AM UTC
That feeling that everything
is extraordinary. Looking
up into the ceiling and
seeing straight through
and up at the stars.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
You could **** a man
with eyebrows like that.
Lips so pink
I would drink
my fill
if I could.
The curve of your face
more precious
than the curvature
of the earth.
The hair that
falls down your back
could be woven to cloth
just as you
are woven throughout
my dreams.
Tonight, when I
dream of you
(as I know I will),
I only hope
you will look
at least half
as beautiful
as you do right now.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
The monks
hunks of spiritual form
take to the ocean
on a cloudy winter morn
I see them from here
& it fills me with fear
for unearthly music
has begun to take form.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
Oh mad hatted,
push cart rolling,
wanderer
wither goest thou?
Are you looking
for cans?
coins?
money to keep
on living?
money to keep on rolling?
I hope you
find your way
or at least
a place to
stay.
You're not alone
mad ***
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
Julia
I Should Have Known Better
I Want to Tell You
You've Really Got a Hold On Me
If I Needed Someone
Baby It's You
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Come Together
Because
Oh! Darling
All You Need Is Love
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 7:40 PM UTC
Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands;
Even now, your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies,
costume, crimes, dissipate away from you,
Your true Soul and Body appear before me,
They stand forth out of affairs—out of commerce, shops, law, science,
work, forms, clothes, the house, medicine, print, buying, selling, eating,
drinking, suffering, dying.
Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem;
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.
O I have been dilatory and dumb;
I should have made my way straight to you long ago;
I should have blabb’d nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you.
I will leave all, and come and make the hymns of you;
None have understood you, but I understand you;
None have done justice to you—you have not done justice to yourself;
None but have found you imperfect—I only find no imperfection in you;
None but would subordinate you—I only am he who will never consent
to subordinate you;
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond
what waits intrinsically in yourself.
Painters have painted their swarming groups, and the centre figure of all;
From the head of the centre figure spreading a nimbus of gold-color’d light;
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its nimbus of
gold-color’d light;
From my hand, from the brain of every man and woman it streams,
effulgently flowing forever.
O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are—you have slumber’d upon yourself
all your life;
Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time;
What you have done returns already in mockeries;
(Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries,
what is their return?)
The mockeries are not you;
Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk;
I pursue you where none else has pursued you;
Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the accustom’d routine,
if these conceal you from others, or from yourself, they do not conceal you
from me;
The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure complexion, if these balk others,
they do not balk me,
The pert apparel, the deform’d attitude, drunkenness, greed, premature death,
all these I part aside.
There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied in you;
There is no virtue, no beauty, in man or woman, but as good is in you;
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you;
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits for you.
As for me, I give nothing to any one, except I give the like carefully to you;
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing the songs
of the glory of you.
Whoever you are! claim your own at any hazard!
These shows of the east and west are tame, compared to you;
These immense meadows—these interminable rivers—you are immense
and interminable as they;
These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of apparent dissolution—
you are he or she who is master or mistress over them,
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements, pain, passion, dissolution.
The hopples fall from your ankles—you find an unfailing sufficiency;
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest, whatever you are
promulges itself;
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided, nothing is scanted;
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what you are picks its way.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 11:35 PM UTC