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Apr 2011 · 888
Walk their fantasy
I have watched where the winds tarry
across those floods of mind and sea
Little imperfections that carry
where scent to breeze affects the senses
and stresses deep, that want to know and grow.
I have traveled the far and lonely
reached across the divide of mind
and here within the gloaming of the moment
I raise my hand
Seeking that deliverance
that warmth
that resides deep within the pounding heart
wishing to know, To be known
within the embrace of the Gods.

Tempting this colliding hole of indifference
that seems to gather the hordes around
Blinded to the views and style of life
they fail to live the sound
That echo that wings upon their minds and begs
If only for a second , allowing them the chance
To gather the fruits of life.
Softly they walk in sheltered courses
that trail the long divide between them
and there themselves
Strangers that carry
the light of their souls away.

But here in this far sighted gorge
where time holds the moment precious, dear
I see the hemisphere of faith
Of hope and youthful toil
linger upon the fading breath of man,
Calling, calling
where the silence pervades their thoughts
but how well they turn asunder
and walk their fantasy.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 750
The table, The mantel
When words no longer hold
invite or excite
that inward response
That once so gathered deep
within ones keep
of the visions of the mind.

There's a loss
a disappearance of sorts
that winged upon a fancy flies
then dies
deep inside the mellow chamber
of dreams.

The tears
that once as years
fades upon the old framed image
that like a crust surrounds
abounds
the only affordable expanse
the on vestige of what once
were little filters of oneself.

And here in photos are but the images
that once skirted as the dreams within
between and through
and true
like
the soft textured rolls
of film and paper, that now
rests upon the tables, the mantels
as reflections of what was.

And the words
still unapproachable
fails to grasp
or gasp
the meaning of the visions
that here once clouded a mind bright and full
Through
those promises of  days,  nights
To rest, now forever humble
To memories long gone.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 624
She thinks
Aye! She thinks I don't see
nor understand that wrong
that stretches out from within her
tears her soul and draws the night to bitter tears.
Sudden as the hope aspires to growth
the dream bursts its fermented vision
the crumbling walls over take
spills the well of thoughts
and evaporates so fast the goal.
That a heart can splutter
fade to a dying quest that overtakes the form
and wears the heavy gloom of despair.
Here where the iniquity of life gathers
the tear that buds upon a swollen eyelid
Lost, helpless she bids her rest
in the twilight world of fairy tales.
But I know, I know the prison that holds
gathers the structure of life so tight
that one chokes upon the pale glimmer
of all that once was life.
Deep the cuts that over ride us
holds us upon that which hope failed to draw
and in the silence of the waters
drowns us all.........

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 737
virgin form
That here in the passage
that twirls
swirls upon the thoughts
expresses, impresses
there its depth
where words flow and ignite.

Here in this realm of the writer
the world replays
relays within
and grasps deep the fundamentals
that crafts within those elementals
to create a world anew.

Fresh the liberated thought flows
invades, conquers, grows
Till soon a set of lines engraved
sets free the words within
that together with emotion spin
until a world of fantasy is birthed
upon the pages ****** form.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 637
Patterns
How often
when the jingle of thoughts
here cross the great divide
that is of you and me
Little spaces
incomplete turns
that both rebel and yet
When the song is right
harmonizes so well
That we forget the differences.

Many the dreams that rattle
within our battle
of being
that we cannot negotiate a path
that runs finely
Timely
to the set patterns that are our lives.

But I remember
Know well
the inside out of you
The little glimpses that once were
are yet
and swerve to the marvel
of each image you portray
Somewhere despite the vast
boundaries
that ride along side our dreams
I still know my sister.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 1.7k
Frosty Moon
Where tips the moon
the cradle rocked
the silver gleam
the twilight pools
that soft to embrace
holds, then fades
to the glimmer
that shimmer
of a frosty moon.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 1.5k
Creole Cry
There's a cold Creole cry
that steeps from the underside of the moss
those thick recesses where, the water bridges tight to the banks
and even when the haunting moon fades upon its shades
there is always a cast of eerie chills that invade the frame.
The long lonely, half depressed, half unawakened  strolls
that never quite lead anywhere, yet always ends by the bank
where the water calls, these deep muddy swamps
that awaits in the hopes of a lost soul to enter
to step beyond the boundaries.
There is stew in these waters
a thick haze that fills and the scent it leaves
clings always upon the clothes, hugs so tight the breath, that
no matter how far one strays, it always calls one back.
Trees that have no roots, skeletons cloaked
hinged in the thick ivy moss that scatters from limb to limb
The cries, urgent, fearful, that echoes through the thick undergrowth
gathering in Voodoo curses the humid air to dance, dance
where the imagination clings and hides, Yet! Dares to know more.
It is a long walk, one, that time cannot gather nor hold
where the fields seem surreal to the charged air
and the night falls like lotus blossoms upon the water
to float away where tides to the Delta stray.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 1.1k
Smoking barrel
Deep where the Sun lies
flies, and then in its parade dies
into the dark under mass
the cloaked ritual of time
that hovers upon the boundaries
the songs of the ages.

Where glint to eye
that inward sigh, the cry
that tormented deep holds its bar
far, upon the trilogy of  the lost
Gods that made and paid the cost
of frequent flier miles.

Shadows creep, leap
where the distinction arises
surprises the mornings jolt
that rides the long encounter
where cold the steel bears the fascination
of the chambered game
twirling, revolving, frame by frame
where the poker hand falls to the colt.

Triggered, offset,
the bang of the aeons arises, surprises
and dropping like the shadow he was
the smoking barrel
the drawn out look
pages from a tormented novel
that lay in a hovel
there on the floor.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 529
These lands
These lands
These fields
that deep to bone holds
retains
the supple dream.
Ah! Far, far
the morning glow
that tickles soft
each blade of green
the spattering burn
that flows to the lays
of hill and glen.
Drops that fall
like tiny tears
transforming the lines
of face, tree and leaf.
Here in these isles
between the worlds of yesterday, today
Lies stretched
from corner to yearning corner
The old ways, the ancient days
that are born within us yet.
Vibrant that flow
which stretches out beyond
each pounding beat
mindful thought.
It is here we return
each bone to bone
and flesh to earth
To sleep deep the pools
that are our fathers
and this we call destiny

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 505
Rabban
The soft touch
that comes it seems like a long tale
heard when youth first dared
ventured the folly and enterprise
and found for a moment in awakened eyes
the Star of the heavens.

I doubt if its rare
these exchanges of thought
that seem so majestic to me here,
A calling , like a Sofar
that reverberates so profoundly
that the leap of heart combines with faith
and there where once the city stood
was the formulation of a prayer.

Time weeps the complexities
that sing from the hem of the cloth
The little paradox of life
that seems to wing back and forth
between faces, places
and now here us.
The word, that tale of tales
that stream across aeons and back
like the curling locks of the Rabban.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 522
Beats
Beats
here in this warm abode
where the gurgles of life
hinge and gather
to intensify the beats.
Warm
these waters of being
that holds retained
the dream of a tomorrow
the sight of a new day.
Little chances flicker here
everything seems of its own
simply to be
Yet such power
such a crafting
that yields bone to form
Skin to muscle
and pumps the life named
from heart to heart
and here in the silence
I unborn, live.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 482
My words
My words
that here etch upon
lay black upon white, the thought
that form that lingers silent amongst
those cushioned membranes of mind.
Whisper, and sometimes cries
so deeply from within, without
Into a world of being whereby I see
all that you are.
There where the night plays
in feathered dreams
the world readdresses itself
and here in the sweet pantomime of plays
I understand the depth.
Dark the hushed embrace
wherein I trace
those remnants that are of you.
That I touch, reach out to hold
grasp, a little more than indeed I understand.
It is within these boundaries
that stress the points of being, seeing
That I fall to the whim of the moment
the torment that resides
longing to know you more.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 587
I AM
Down the predestined path my friend
we all walk as friends or enemies
such is the journey of life,
Voices echo through the empty corridors
like the winds breeze flowing across wild seas
Words of love mingle with those of hate
thoughts of good become but reflections of Evil
and we still continue to journey blinded.

The years,the days, but a glimmer of fate
Nations of people,tribes of traditions
calling to each other with voices of threads
and we pull at the strings to gain favours
Collecting our wealth as a weapon
and all falls silent before the mighty pen
Structures confine there realities
blanking out all other dreams and views.

Dust mingles in the rain,as do our hopes
colliding indifference's of home and breed
We shatter the foolish vision with our own uncertainties
crafting our thoughts upon those elemental minds
Taken all that which is natural
replacing them with the modern dream and hope
Some how, believing our dreams to be theirs
a continues mixed emotion upon our planetary plane.

The Gods now fall silent before us
they fail to utter their heavenly decrees
And we portray our mighty Lord and sovereign
upon all and any that can benefit our cause
Once Blue skies now appear musky and gray
Yet,We still fool ourselves as to its beauty
This Globe of Home,our Hearth
lays as wastelands to our goals and dreams.

And here before you lays the words of a humble Poet
reflecting upon the waste and ruin of our times
dried up and gone are all the worlds heroes
No longer is a Saviours face to enlighten our eyes
We have become that which even our fathers feared
that darkened figure of pestilence and decay
Yet with each brush of our economic pen
We whitewash the truth and reality we face.

Are we to sit silently,just watching
that and those that mean so much to life
Do we cut off the hands of the starving brother
when it reaches out for our surplus?
Where do we become so important
what fades within us if not our souls,
Tears encircle the hemisphere look and behold them
The Ghosts of mans conscious haunts his every dwelling.

Where does it end, where did it begin?
Does it simply pass like the ticking of a clock
and of course we all proclaim our innocence
be not fooled, lost nor caught in your mere delusions
Reality shall continue,even when man is long gone
The Stars shall shine as brightly,
the Sun as Warmly
but it shall have lost one of its greatest treasures
that great homosapien that cried before all existence

---------------I AM-----------
Apr 2011 · 501
The Song of my heart
The pain
this agony of want
that here upon the tides of man
begs and tears
rips open the soft muscle of heart
and wears forever the thought.

These dreams
that come upon the wings of night
gathers me deep
hovers complete
to every image, the tangible thought
Of you, my love.

As if nothing evolves
grows to any length or depth of day
But hinges its dream, its reality
here where in memories soft
You come and rest
to laugh and cry
The song of my heart.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 656
My prayer
Baruch ata adonai elohainu melech ha-olam she-hakol nee-yah bidvaro
Blessed art Thou, Lord our God, King of the universe through whose word all things are called into being.


God called, God Formed, God made--the three levels of man Soul, Spirit and body.

The prayer

From heart to heart
the words intoned
The spirit bridges
bears fast the soul
Awakens the moment
Grasps God's hand and cries
That deliverance fills
The healing consumes
That whole to whole
all bodies bound
Three in one
the spirits sound
The Soul true
The spirit awakened
The body whole
It is this O' God
That I seek and pray
Thy will be done
and done thy will.
Let hands guided
thoughts embraced
Hearts true
ways pure
Fill and gather
awaken and fulfill
My Star to shine
her brightest hew

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
I see the golden whisks that stretch up into a turquoise sky
reverently the abode of the flying kite that twirls
upon the rafters of the heavens cathedral
drifting upon the open planes where the wind takes hold, rushes
drifting the soft plumes to the breeze and scented air
In a triumphant flight of dreams and hope.

The is a peaceful tranquility that invades the minds
silences it to the spectacle of sheer grace and bliss
that for hours upon hours my eyes partake of this exquisite dance
of life upon the flapping wing, air upon a pounding heart
The soul glides up there, dives and drifts upon every wish
Upon every far flung vision that draws a heart to want.

Sweet these images that so often go unseen,
we tread a delicate balance to the sweet song of life
Hold it upon our breath to whisper its majesty, its perfection
blind to the real depth of what there is, how we walk so coldly
upon a dark world where our horizons torch the scene
and wears the shudder of unconcern.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 510
Upon the cracks
Dead drops the awkward sound
that upon a bards tongue sweeps unbound
where no ears hear, no thoughts endear
to the embrace of the whimsical sound
Of life's tormented holy ground.

It dribbles out upon the cracks
where seldom words fill the slacks
Of human thought, the danced rhythmic tones
that fill the mantel of mortal bones
Only to find the poetic groans.

Awe fills and finds itself aware
where the valley gleams upon our stare
The shadowed forms of long past dreams
Are these bards that fill within their screams
All the passion of our mortal streams.

To linger or fade forever away
where words embrace, hold and stray
Their ancient voices upon the air
that dares to dream, dares to share
The tender moment beyond compare.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 581
Death Haunts
Death Haunts

Death haunts me like a shadow
an excuse of sorts that jars my thoughts
always captures me unawares
Between the sheets of ghosts and the linen of things.
not that it matters I suppose we all have our day
that marked territory of Hades and Shoals
Those gateways that the boat somehow crosses between,
These are the images that bind us and **** us
Taking our last image and rendering it null and void
placing a memory of persona upon another's thought patterns
And leaving us bare to the cold and empty Hollows of death.
We can't do a ****** thing about it
amazing how we live this life trying to control all our horizons
Then to hit that final brick wall where nothing is controllable,
Nothing fits, just the silence wins the day, the hour, that moment.
Just like that second prior to conception, I wonder.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 2.4k
Yorkshire Downs
Sweet, sweet the fields
where the grass grows rich and full
to fill the valley to a spectacular view
That comes and engulfs this mind of mine.
I run freely the course of the wind
twirling in this dance the eternals play
The days, the nights, ever glowing in bounty
to these wild free images that here surround
infiltrate and vitalize each breath taken
thought spoken and dream envisioned.
Here in the belly structures of life
I commit to the song of the bird over head
the fox upon the green and that screeching call
of the majestic wind, that falls and gathers
every scented blossom from the fragrant womb
Of Mother earths grandeur.
Who understands better  or partakes of this form
ever born to the senses, drawn to the Soul
These remote desolate places that summon and call
reminding one of the glory, the powers that yield
Here in the Yorkshire Downs,One learns to know.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 619
If the mornings breath
If the mornings breath
e'er but takes you away
I shall linger in the sullen fields
and my voice shall graze the scarlet hues
that scratches upon the Dawn.

In that moment of disarray
This heart will fear its trembling beat
and all that once was warm, tender
shall cross this form in Icy hues
and frozen to all thought and form
shall linger e'er to die.

If in the days caressing form
the Sun shall no hold no light
and darkness to the weary Soul
shall be the guiding life,
No summer breeze nor crystal lake
No Flower in beauty arrayed
Would awaken that moments Joy
when within these arms you Laid.

The seagull's cry shall haunt my days
to the sadness that life befalls
the glory of the youthful times
when in love -Aye! It Grows.
Capture a picture, save the Soul
for those bitter days that shall fall
A lover's lament, the passing Tide
When ones love, to the Leal is gone.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apr 2011 · 700
Sidhe calling
(In Celtic myth and legend, The twilight hours are those that belong to the Fairy realms, Where mortals can be taken into the twilight realms of the Sidhes, A place that time stands still, the moment hushes and the soul lingers to the nightly feasts of the eternal. I suppose I take this to apply to our dream world as much as to a factual realm.)



She hovers upon the wings of night
casts her drift of the fairy tunes
that creep like the fine mists of time
Engulfs the land, inhabits the realms
where thoughts so gather, flood and flow
Covering the world into her fine blanket
To drift us all to the world of dreams.

It is here that all possibilities arise
takes flight upon the fancy cries
Hovers lightly upon perpetual forms
and lingers in the thick flowered groves
In this world where the fairies dance
to the old jigs and airs
Swirl the embrace of their twilight realms
Between the mantel of the universe.

It is here upon their midnight embrace
that the ancient Gods arise and cry
their archaic forms stretch forth
Grasping hold of man's internal cries
They summon the strings of the ancient web
whereby all creation stems and flows
Illuminating us to their ways ever afresh
And placing deep within the will, the form.

Oh! How we arise to the Dawns sweet call
relishing to the finial vestige of the night
We wish to return to that realm of no pain
where sorrow and fears all subside
to the pleasure of the sidhe's ways
where life holds its true embrace
and love wings its fluttered call
and draws fast the human soul
into the desired length of passion's night.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 550
Before the pain
Its a long, long walk
where yesterday's images trail the long winding roads of nowhere
Seem ajar to what ever mystery life once held and echoed
the silent slumber of faded promises and disillusioned ideals
Soak together in the oblivion of the abyss, and cries.
There's a spot, unpolluted by the lies and wrongs
Far away from that changing that consumed and diluted us,
Where still I behold your perfection ever anew, like a dream
That even in the wakened state I feel close to the bone.
Time doesn't change things, nor have we,
I still see the sparkle in your eyes
That silent want to be held again
kissed and loved so tender
Like in the day's before the pain.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 543
The fair grounds of us
Once upon a whisper
the words played their carousel
round and round between us
In glee and joyful tone
We entered the fairytales
and danced their jig of life
laughter and sweet frolic
the Ferris wheel of minds
We talked in old stories
built dreams upon which to fly
circled our boundaries
Sailing into the sigh.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 975
Heilan' Whiskey
Jiggle a notion of the Hieland brew
that swells from Scotland's crispy dew
To fill hearts a plenty with joy and song
Scot's Whiskey born wild and strong.

Swallow that liquid of golden honey
down your gullet to warm your tummy
Then know you drank the breath of Gods
a fiery brew you drunken sods.

Crisp as a cold wind against your lungs
Hot as the temper upon your tongues
Whiskey,Whiskey the Scotsman's drink
that lifts your spirits to the brink.

You'll find it where ever Scotsman congregate
Heiland Whiskey best drank straight.

-----Alisdaire O'Caoimph------
Mar 2011 · 1.0k
Thor upon the planes of Ayr
How well I know this force
that draws fast upon my brain
wages all the energies there retained
Till surging fills each life filled cell
to the roaring torment
and blessed state.

Beyond the horizon
It gathers upon the breath of those Gods
Thor riding the triumphant clouds
bellows into the night's air his charge
Of thickened, dense filled pockets of space
Edgeing upon the fringe of life.

I stand *****, arms out stretched
Like an ancient shaman invoking his god
gathering within my lungs this breath of charged air
and vibrating it out,  I call the gales drifting winds
To sweep and engulf this soul of mine
Into the depths of that tormented breeze.

Hear O ancient one's my haunting cry
That steps out from the Soul and dreams of mine
Awaken again that sacred form and bliss
of natures wrath and constant kiss
To journey but the essence of life.

Thor roars in distant rumbles that gathers
pleads and romps the air and valleys
hammer flung, the metal strikes
and splinters it's flashing rods to earth
Castrating the nights air to its engulfed state.

The winds rush and cross the Firths great stance
Arran haunted to the raging sky
Lightning strikes amongst her giant peaks
Goat fell rages but to the demented storm
Like blasts from battles deep.

The seas roar the triumphant entry
Of the Viking God yet but once again
Upon theses ancient fields of time and place
charging upon the gales ravenous winds and tossed tides
The lordship of Thor upon the planes of Ayr.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 1.3k
Enchanted I
Enchanted I
by a Lianasidhe
Caught like a fish
upon a lure of bonnie smiles;
Bewitched by all her craft
that ever before me stands.
Enchanted I
by two deep pools of blue
and hair, gold and Ivory entwined,
by cameo silk, moon glossed skin
fragrant, warm, inviting
evoking the tempest of my passion.
Enchanted I
By some form of witchcraft
Spun by forces beyond my depth
and I like a fly to the web,
helplessly await to be devoured
consumed spirit, flesh and body.
Enchanted I
by what work of Gods' involved
to send swiftly that ancient arrow
that flies from cupids bow so straight
to engulf the beats of this heart,
draining the soul drop by drop
till all that is me within her dwells.

Enchanted forever,

Enchanted to you.


Alisdaire O'Caoimph
A Liannasidhe is a fae of the celtic realms that haunts the thoughts and dreams of men, the male version would be a Gean Cannach. Fairylovers-succubus and incubus in greek mythology.
Mar 2011 · 897
Torn Veil
It comes as a whisper
A breath of sheer torment
that fills the dreamy fluids of thought
captivates them to its weary song
and drifts far along the banks of comprehension
Till ravished fully It dies a thousand deaths
and echoes its shuddering form outward
Into the final vision, the last fringe.
To bare its self to the nights slow creep
that delusional hope
Fast, drawn upon the whimpered prayer
That final gasp
Life ebbs slowly and finely away
Into the pits of dark shadowlands
where only the nights howl gathers
And death smirks upon the torn veil.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 492
A little word
A little word
flies, cries
outward runs
flows, grows
faster upon the air
grasping, gasping
needing to share
screams, dreams
vibrant to the ear
whispers, whimpers
All it contains.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 498
Tiny Wings
Hearts will flutter like tiny wings
  soaring spirits into the depths of heaven
hovering in the stillness, the silence
When love embraces, arms unite
Lips entice and passions burn
flying those brilliant sapphire skies
racing those mighty currents of sea
Laying in the softness of space
in feelings that are at last released
Born fresh to life and all its vastness
With hearts fluttering like butterflies.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 2.4k
Poppy bloom
There is no other flower bloom
that by its self represents such gloom
As that memorial flower Poppy red
stained by Knights long now dead
that delivered their last drop of life filled Zest
and sprinkled red the white Poppy blessed.

Time has shown the pale grim faces
of fallen comrades in ****** places
and marching in memorial to the gone
express in tears War's great wrong.

Each generation fears their fate
in fields where poppies congregate
for there amongst the fragrant scented flow
Lays the sleep Eternal Knights all know.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 748
Tennessean Blues
He comes here often
where yesterday slides into another
those chameleon days that play
facet upon facet,
the heavy southern air draws
out between the willows fringe
hangs softly upon the breeze
where these valleys and hills dress
The Tennessean blues.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 1.7k
Nashville
Nashville lights, twilight sights
The dancer's dream, the faded stream
perfumed ally, vagrant sally
The words that call, the deadly fall
Embraced indifference, padded surveillance
The silent dreams, The nightly screams.
Whispered messages, diluted references
Fresh bound hopes, depravity copes
indecent alliance, vengeful compliance
dressed for show, momentum's flow
A southern will, the bitter pill
These little flickers that embrace
The dreams of fame's tormented face.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 749
Here in the South
The spring's winds here in the south
hold the magnolia hint upon the air
The warm day's rays conquers the mornings chill
And the vapors of the day seem to dance upon the mind.
Seems all in Tennessee draws upon its hush
The little market stores holds the laid back expression
The old men still linger around the corners
with the chewing tobacco stains the pavement
And all the while the sun beats upon beat
the blazon rays of a springs radiance
and drops upon the frown of an offer
Of sweetened tea and apple pie.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 437
Tragedy
Ah! the pain that here engulfs
a tragedy cut from one's own blade
that holds most sacred the ravished hour
When words went unsaid.
  . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The tears bellow out and fall
like a story without recall
This haunting world wherein one roams
Like a crashing sea, raging, foams.
The empty eye
the hollowed cry
The days torture rings afar
like the image of a falling star
It crosses the lonely planes of sky
Never knowing its course, the reason why.
Love that undeniable phantom of space
holds upon the mortal race
dreams relished where delights are found
the promise of new found ground
She walks the lonely place of fate
where he stands constant at her gate
but neither one holds the courage true
To simply say, I love you.
Years and folly don't give a ****
where tales they sink and inward jam
The moments quest is to be taken
gathered within and outward shaken
to awaken the moment, the truth to bare
Words spoken, the love to share
Such little things these fears we dread
that leaves us walking like we were dead
It's the simple word that could change a life
awaken within, relieve the strife
that one may walk that scented road
where dreams gather, tales are told
and love that merry tune of life
Finds man and woman, husband and wife.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 624
Scarlet
Scarlet the winged fancy
glides upon the summers tail
holds the glimmer of the Suns warmth
and touches straight through to the heart.
Passion, this fire that alights
burns to the constant need and want
holds open the frontier of sheer delight
and wears hard the flesh to the tease
the temptation that within
strolls the open vats of sensual longing
till free it bares the souls deepest secrets
wields the tempests strain
and frees itself out and upon
The floods of the body and mind.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 631
Dazed, Baffled
She roams through my mind
in combustive states
that dissolve the elusive run,
melts the *** to her honey
invades the forefront
charging the grounds of my thoughts
Invigorating the new.

Dazed, baffled,
I wake to her sunshine
drenched to her love,
How direction finds us
draws us close, subdues us
with little worlds, big thoughts
these concepts of women
That change ever our horizons.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 679
Suicide
It's a fall down the stairs
the deliberate action of miss guided steps
rotates the axis of body and form
That crashes fast the nightmare.
I agonize to the pits decay
the frolicking thoughts
there displayed
against the window frame
the sheared glass
Where drips the red dye of life.
Crimson seeds populate the fragile
delicate balance of pain
To the nightly screams that draw
Fills one sore to the unenlightened refrain.
Ticking its seconds
awaiting some external cure
Bordering upon a fancy
Lusting deaths mask to sweep and bind
The lonely hour
The desperate sigh.
Raging inside
begging between the ******
and some hope for light
encouraged in the sinking
that choking plea
strangling the inconsistencies
I court the dark riders course
hoofs pounding nearer
the hearts remorse
Fades the gasp
Of suicide.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 599
corrosive run
I often travel
it seems between the lines
Those indexes of verbatim
that correlate to the metaphors
those aphorisms of thought.
Here beside you
The residue of promise seeps
and double dips into the erosive state
and I comprehend a deeper impersonal you.

The soft lips
those eyes that glitter to the sparkle of life
ever held the patch of pain
that bore deep the emotional self
and destroyed the world.
Yet there too
where the darkness held the sway
You lay silent to the night
hushed in fearful dreams
That still contains that pit of sorrow.

When you look at me
I can envision it all
detect the corrosive run
that stems from the child within
harbours to the silence of your eyes
and speaks between and through
every word, sentence upon which you draw
and there I read you.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
When the night coughs lightly too
The misty, humid air
Between the dark harvest of shadows
And that long eerie croon
That rides upon the winds hollow flow
Filling the night to the desperate
The lonely, painful cry and tear
That still resides to the dream world
Half lost, half forgotten.

She sleeps her deep
Where once the lavender tones confided
And laid the will to blissful tones
In serenades of fancy and delight
That ravished her form
Teased each aching throb
And rested the deep metaphoric Ideal
Of crashing waves and the fireworks explosions.

Now she wanders these dark narrow paths
That daunts her horizons, entwine her thoughts
With that haunting image of her faded heart
That weeps upon the pools, midnight's facade
And pours down to empty upon those long lost seas of hope.
How far the soul travels in its long despair
Its desperate want to feel once again
The tranquil night of passions embrace.

How bitter the flow of the tyrants love
That wears the mask of truth
She hovered upon his every tale
Lingered her breath there to his
And danced the purple rays of dreams
Where love so opened her free
To dance, to dream and blindly see.

She sits alone in her tiny room
Fearing the images that fill her so
Tired for the want of blessed rest
Yet fearing where dreams shall carry her soul
To those old grounds of loves demise
The painful moments, silent cries
The day the world was torn and rendered barren
The day her tears filled heaven.


Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 592
Passion true
I seek the soft caress
where tales undress
your long smooth form
where fingers beg, torment and roam
Deep to the bone
Every hungered kiss,
demented bliss
That wages forth and cannot be denied
Where dreams engulf, sealed, cried
The budding lips that pour out
for the lingering want to tease about
Each scented flair that gathers the mind
Holds us tight there to find
Every combustive motion
of loves ****** potion
that wages deep upon our cries, the want
Better to tease, Torment, Taunt
Where eyes glazed, hovers and begs
another touch upon silken legs
the moments rush
the explosive crush
of tormented valleys
upon sensual galleys
where love to love
the wants rides above
All that holds the passion true.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 536
This is Love
Where do i commence
What visuals are open here
for me to imbue to you a thought
or graph upon your image a mere word.
But I see beyond
beyond just the flesh,the physical shift
to where the soul awakens and flies
upon the hemisphere of matter and mind
to where i behold all root and form.
To arouse your flesh,tease your skin
awakening you to the soft pound
of throbbing heart, pulsing throat
I lay my kiss.on luster moist flesh
upon the tide of nape and throat
while pulling tight, drawing in your form
with supple fingers tracing form and desire
till resting upon your womanhood and its charm
I turn you,face to face,eye to eye
where chest and breast caress
Lips upon yours,to my searching tongue
there upon the shadows cast and your gasp
You open to me, like a flower to the sun
fragrant,luscious as any fruit i eat
upon the intoxicating pleasure, passion
I ride in dreams of thunder and of storm
till vanquished,here silent, still
I turn to pull her form tight to me
to draw in the rawness of our passion
and know this is Love.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 651
Bardic Rhapsody
Welcome Stranger come and hear
the words that draw the heavens near
and listen to it's breeze that blows from the East
of whose Ancient cast melody tames Man and Beast.

For Tis a song so old that time has forgot
the writer of its winds wherein it's Lyrics are caught
But it's secrets may be heard and it's power felt
within the heart and mind of a truthful Celt.

For its words though obscure hold the greatest key
for all the descendants to come and see
The place where verse and rhyme equate with time
to show man's greatness and his crime.

Tis a place where all may come to Ken
the song Of the Bard over Hill and Glen
Tis a song of Being, Of Life's joy and its pain
O'Blissful tender passions and tortures mournful slain.

Tis a Journey back into the past,a relic of times gone
and yet a journey into the future, O'Life's greatest song
So Welcome stranger into a World of verbal fantasy
and to the inspirations of this Bardic Rhapsody.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 446
The Ghost
Oh Blackened night that over throws
the clutched snare of after math
Drawing into its prism of gory shade
the hidden phantom that lingers deep
I've heard it's wail upon empty nights
when silence holds the silent breath
and here within its structure and rudiments
It calls out your name.

But Christ, there is no running
no light to grasp, no breath to capture
for it seizes upon the whelm and invades
forever holding to its ultimate passion
I have always known it, feared its grasp
ran every avenue I thought it's presence was
Till here in the room ,upon my bed it finds me
Alone, as well we both knew it would be.

I cannot fight, for there is no form
I cant escape it, for its wherever I roam
So now before I cry and instantly acknowledge
The reason and purpose for its visit here.
While you all out there sleep in your peace
while dreams of the morrow, freshens your mind
keep in thought always this consistent fellow
That awaits you too, In your silent hour.
The Ghost of an unforgiving Love.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 424
From my heart to you
That I love you,
these little caresses of words
that I bring upon your ear
undress my thoughts there to bear
You upon my dream.
Is there anymore to life than this,
the soft sweet bud of your kiss
that fills me so to the brink
of all that love means.
Dreams in streams
that always holds you upon my breath,
before my eyes, there sighs
the soft delicate image of you
that fills ever to the want
that desire, that inward fire
that here consumes me in a dance
of love's tender romance,
that here is shared, dared
to fill our world, dreams and eyes
to the night's soft passion, the cries
that are of you and me combined
where love grips strong
that song
that wings and flutters true
From my heart to you.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 581
It's strange
It's strange for me to think
that some women see me as their missing link
"By God" says I "They're blind
If I'm the best that they can find."
For I'm not a man of eloquent charm
nor one with protruding muscles in my arm
No seductive tongue nor Golden locks
Only words that the English language mocks
Definitely no Greek God would stumble so low
with my physique,the world to show
Just plain as plain ever could be
if they truly had eyes they'd see
I'm far from the **** wooing body
but rather fleshy and fairly stocky
God knows by pound or stone I am
of greater wealth than beef or ham
"But if it suits them Lord
Who am I to disagree!"
So welcome Women for all you care
of freckled Skin and receding hair.

---Alisdaire O'Caoimph---
Mar 2011 · 584
Un Sancti Spiritus
I sit here in contemplation
before me arises images and dreams
particles of sublime characteristics
regimental excursions of thought and form
In this solitude I invade
like an Army on foot into unknown grounds
conquering and invading depths of cerebral sparks
Till there within that most sacred sanctuary
I draw from myself the strength and the will
opening up a new chapter of mental illustration
upon diagrams planted so many years ago
Till slowly i begin to comprehend
The Mystery of all I am
and I look with fresh sight and gain
at all that here around me flies
sudden explanations fill and engulf
to the majestic unity I come to Know
I see the Heaven's open up their treasures
little glimmering lights of wisdom combine
to establish here before me a true holistic sight
I see the mountains flowing
like a sea of many grounds
knowing the generations collide and combine
in this sea of heart and home
There before me I see my brother
I know him well, as he I
and for once in total union
we walk a silent mile.
I learn more than what words can utter
for in truth any description becomes but vain
and I see within this my Sanctuary
That I was never here alone.
Where does one come to these grounds
ever sacred, ever calling
Striving forever those confines of the human heart
and in dreams bright,we cry for more.
Tis a place where God awakens
where resides that seed of truth and hope
an eternal solitude of its Holy expressions
Our God again walks beside us, with us
Knowing us and we learn to know him
Un Sancti Spiritus
The sacred grounds
of you and me.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 666
Ae Fond Kiss
Ae Fond Kiss
Ae fond kiss,and then we sever!
Ae farewell,and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee,
Who shall say that fortune grieves him,
While the Star of hope she leaves him?
Me nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.
Robert Burns (1759-1796)
--------------------------------------
That gathers amidst the torrid rain
The heavy skies laden e'er with grief
Here empties to the tears that flow.
I remember yesterday's dream
the swinging clarity that surrounded this love
and drawn whole together- We
Aye! We dreamed and dared a future
Gathering our love like a guilt around us
keeping the warmth of every thought embraced -alive
Fleeing every adversary, we pledged
Eternal the Love strings our Soul's played.
Time tithers visions and goals
Hearts drift to dialogs of thought
and somewhere in between the you and the I
We faded to past glories, Aye! The dreams.
I saw the towered structures fall
felt the Earth shudder to the sigh
that here warred within this heart
and battled forth errands of seek and destroy
Till left empty, alone, We cry
For every silent memory of what was
and with those cold Northern winds
We kissed and said goodbye.
I still sit on such howling nights
Where heavy clouds drift and fall
Hearing in my silence, again your voice
and all the promises that now chaotic lay
Of all that once, truly once was
Aye! How well I grieve, I cry.
Reflections carry upon the rain
that which still scares this my Soul
and the strangest Images crafted there
Tis not the joyful and happy times
But that final touch, that last kiss goodbye.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 1.0k
Kentuckian
Where the blue of sky
tosses the dream within ones eye
and opens the pastoral fields of life
amidst the strife, the rife
that here upon the land bears
shares
the tormented moments, the smiles
that crossed the miles and miles
where frontier pried open the dream
upon these wildest green
fields of their prosperity.

They journey a faith
a belief
and took life as would a thief
into their own rights of being
seeing
freedoms expanse there abound
gathered round
the old stories of their homes
Miles away, miles away
from where the root and birth
did inspire
here within them that desire
to reach out and there grasp
the very breath of which they gasp.

Time draws fast the privileges few,
herein drew
the straws of fate
the opened gate
to shower as best destiny it can
the prospects within each human hand.
History retells the story
praises the great with the holy
and draws the prospering fields a plenty
of the days of man threescore and twenty.
To cry into this wilderness , here their name
forgotten sons of forgotten fame.

Birthed now the dream
where grass of blue
filled the hue
of the Kentuckian.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Apon tha roll O' tha pagan's dream
As it leaps an' boun's apon tha mental stream
Flowing doon intae tha cordons o' solitaire
Near tha brigs O' tha banks O' Bonnie Ayr.

Tha whispering Hazel catches huld tha tune
Echoing tha mysteries a' tha wae tae Troon
As a glimmer O' lichtning crosses tha Sky
He, tha ancient an' grand Wizard stoans apon Carrick high.

Configurations an' transformations by god
Far ayond tha concepts o' tha blunnering sod
Catch hold Lad tha spirit as it flees past ye
Heading oot taewards Arran across tha sea.

Does no tha Seagull scream tae enchant tha ******
an' the win' blaws like some evil melody played by a Demon
An' dinnie wait tae lang tae grasp tha chain
O' life's faithful given, tha Barley, Wheat an' Grain.

But come see tha Mither apon her Earth filled seat
As tae tha wonnerous farmer She bows tae Greet
That apon tha Seasons O' echoed fate they may come tae restore
Tha True religion O' this land, O' this flaming shore.

Nue listen an' be quite till pass a' hoors break
an' bin' ye thagither tha dreams an' thouchts that ye take
an' cast it a' apon tha Fires O' Beltanes torch
Tae watch as tha flames reach higher an' higher, tha heevens tae scorch.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Mar 2011 · 513
The smile
The smile
warm the breeze
that holds
sways there upon
Where the mind erases and finds
Itself draped within the sun.
Tides flow
the boundaries to know
the desired depth
the feel, the want
Holds the space
captivated draws
from within
A smile back.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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