The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.
The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
it was the start of spring
yet it felt like winter
a falling petal,
and yet a snow
it was very warm,
yet it felt so cold
it was a new beginning
and yet an ending
a night full of fireworks,
yet it was all snowflakes
a day full of celebration
yet it felt like a normal day
The right eye I avoid blinkin',
There is a new irritant therein,
But harmless compared to the killer,
The killer roamin' here an' there,
Thousands of faces she always had,
And she dons one or the other,
Kills by the name of the lover.
My HP Poem #1415
All that's left of me...*
Cross-legged in meditation at four AM.
Sitting in a provincial burg. Alone.
Completely comfortable with obscurity.
Ambition dead as ashes of embers.
Swallow emptiness as it swallows you.
This world holds no prizes worth winning.
Youth: dream dreams and lust.
Prime: chase success and love.
Age: write poems and be quiet.
What can a dead cat do but bounce?
You've done all you can for your fellow man.
Action is the province of the young;
there are reasons soldiers are only twenty.
People say go for it, time remains.
You know, you know, there's nowhere to go.
Everything important ends before it begins.
If all your words turned suddenly to gold,
at your core you would still be poor.
The things men chase: money, women, fame;
no longer matter at the end of the game.
Grab those pillows, sit down and see:
already all that you need to be.
He lays down **** like a shadow
Thrown by a movie spotlight
He eats passion like he is
******* the juices of the last peach on Earth
He walks proudly like a naughty child
Who made a clean escape
He talks integrity like a lion
With a human child in his mouth
He pushes imagination like
A clown in a silent temple
He lays down ****
And it’s all over me