Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Once when an Angel called me,
Not single right now; sor-ry…
Like a shadow with wings,
I see him around…

Not that it really matters,
His dress is torn and tattered,
A shadow of flap-ping wings,
Lit-tle breezy…here with no sound?

Kiss of a fool and the angels above…
And they’re falling forever, falling in love,
Kiss of a fool and the angels above…
And they’re falling forever, falling in love,

Hey you…angel who called me,
Am -I...really that pretty?
Get out of that tree,
Come down to the ground!

Dancing with wings, moving around,
Twirling…still, there’s no sound?
Dating an angel; falling down!
Dated an angel, fallen down.

Kiss of a fool with the heavens above…
And we’re falling forever, falling in love,
Kiss of a fool and the heavens above…
And we’re falling forever, falling in love,

Okay angel who called me…
It was okay but sor-ry,
Dated an angel, fooling around,
Broken up, sorry, shadowy ground.

Kiss of a fool and the angel above…
And he’s fallen forever, falling in love,
Kiss of a fool and the heavens above…
And they’re falling forever, fallen in love,

I hear Sheryl Crow when I sing this.
Upon a midnight’s visage airy,
T’was a lake frozen by fairy,
…and weighing on mind’s tonnage bearing?
There for ice’ opaqueness winter’s seized,
…and arms encased in rime; trees.

“Oh my,”

At dark of sky thought the eye of something troubling upon my mind?

And the frosty cloudy glass,
Take to it upon my axe,
…and the sting of shards will pass.
And will I eat at last.

Thusly, thrusting through the skull, wettened, weakened for the cold.

…and burden carry I with me,
So encased in rime is he,
Doth make of fishing’s night a chore,
Something that I do abhor!
…and stare I did into that sea,
…my frory breathe in imagery,
Dismay it did fluster me, when my eye captured by Sea,
...and in whirling thoughts could reflection see?
…and something else came back with me.

Pool with drops, light curves, dark rings; in vapid mind now find nothing...

T’was a misty sheen seen after showers?

A damp muggy place of reflecting hours,
Typhoid strange did make snowing;
The Asteraceae of my wilted flowers,
…and that Wren philosophically sings,
…and at lake a lone be -ing,

Appearing peering my soliloquy, I am therefore I into thee.
…and fixed calm stared back at me,

“What pray tell I Enquiry?”

Did something else look back at me?

...and glaring gaze thus did see, something I had hid from me,
…and gawking in my mind did ogle; a malevolence of thought once frugal...

A gaping, oscillating, pierced Abyss, forced farther back into consciousness...

Deeper in and further still,
Climb atop Old Arthur’s hill,
…and the winged Raven’s nearer, reflected on me in my mirror?
…and time did pass turning frozen dying, icy tears of sadness from my crying,

…so did silent Hume release, all the pain that’s troubling me; whilst frozen frame thus held in peace?

I fell forward and felt submerged,
Both characters, both now have merged.
And that creature which accompanied me?

Found a solace back in wine dark sea.
David Hume and Narcissus.
“Mystic readers of the stars,
In Land of Sleeping’s language versed,
Consult the tales, those stories –old.
And tell us, is the maiden sold?”


“Climb the tower, the fire pieces,
Traverse the heavens, assign the path,
Until the maze of tomes thus ceases…
And mystery lost to art of math.”

This is a re-write of two verses from two different pages of the Tales of Miletus done in such a way as to capture a modern interpretation of the meaning being implied in the ancient version.

The Tower of Babel is translated in Sumerian as the, "tower," of the, "falling fires." It literally means the stars in a cylinder(tower) of the circular nature of the heavens.

Before man invented chalkboards he had sand but long before writing he had a nightly revolving teaching tool called the stars. Each star constellation contains modern letters. One contains half the alphabet and happens to visible to most of the planet year round.
Well it’s a thing about wood,
a sea-cret about stone
a tension in the heavens;
has left earth all alone…

You’ll find it in your heart,
see it in your mind
hear it in the sounds;
repeating over time…

That’s the thing about stone,
the difference in the wood
all the loneliness of earth;
out of a darkness came good…

A secret in a song
a music in the wood
a message in stone,
from the heavens;
as it should.

Secrets in song
music from wood
messenger-stone
a feeling of good…

Love of your heart
found in your mind
beauty of the heavens;
and it’s repeated over time.
Seven Glorious Ones,
Are searching for our Tin!
Across seven vast ages,
Though here’s where we’ll begin.
And those twinkly-ones appear,
Stare from the painted haze…
Those ‘eyes’ attract, erratic mind…
Tin settle’s on their gaze.
Run Tin! Run! Her falling velvet,
Stag-man hangs now on horizon,
Hunter’s purpose, -rage!
Mourn the loss, Oh brave Tin,
Brave hero Tin, -seven dancing on your grave.
The myth of Tin is Jupiter is Jove is God is Yahweh... The seven who dance on the god's grave are always the Great Bear or seven pole stars...
I was somber that Tuesday
Thinking about my lack of success,
I pondered giving up
And letting my current body
be all that there is…
A life over, a life ended.
I was watering the black-eye Susans,
they being just bright green smidgens,
Sad in September, missing my mother…
And a Dragonfly flew up to my face and landed on my neck,
Normally I would have shoed it off,
When younger I might have killed it.
It took the time to inspect my neck,
…turning about and tickling me too-
…near-hysteria waiting; waiting for it to leave,
And then it flew to an oak tree in front of me
And stopped to look back-
…at me?
Then it left.

I thought of a movie about coming to terms with death and a Dragonfly…

                                                     ­          Why did it stop and look back?
Thanks Mom for cheering me up,
…even though I am crying.
The man in the middle quietly weeps as the deafening crescendo grows on…

Hoping by chance he’ll soon join the dance but knowing deep down, somehow, he is wrong?

The people who lead have more than they need insisting on evermore -till it’s gone.

And at the end of the day they’ll cry merrily and gay;

“What happened t’was a wonderful song?”
In all ancient Greek and Roman cities there was an altar in the center named, "Pity," where food, clothes and wears were left for those who had nothing.
Next page