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Truth was always found in tongues of loose razors; sarcasm's edge pared flesh sentimental, weakness fallen in strips to the ground, where salt sown in handsful ensured earth never fertile that any blossoms might grow So long food for the soul, sharpness scooped up, that bare hands drunk in deep draughts, and welcomed the cup from which they poured forth; occasional trips into hell, for audience with the devil to discuss global weather, other pressing matters... So to find anything of beauty, like treasure revealed in moon beams striking at just the right angle - intricate, delicate, diaphanous scarf trembling in melodies only I hear, heartsongs escaped lips of a siren in distance where stars grow... Reading wonder in silk strands woven as if by angel's hands; imagined some magic spun for me a web that had existed eternally, though never seen 'till revealed accidentally in reflections of some ancient lights Today I'm made of starfire sharpest blades can't uncover; in morning, pondering patterns clouds make in blue skies like child's discoveries; listening to sonatas in sunsets as sweet tastes of poetry relieve lingering stings of doubt in my mouth
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 4:25 PM UTC
Discovery Accidental
Truth was always found in tongues of loose razors; sarcasm's edge pared flesh sentimental, weakness fallen in strips to the ground, where salt sown in handsful ensured earth never fertile that any blossoms might grow So long food for the soul, sharpness scooped up, that bare hands drunk in deep draughts, and welcomed the cup from which they poured forth; occasional trips into hell, for audience with the devil to discuss global weather, other pressing matters... So to find anything of beauty, like treasure revealed in moon beams striking at just the right angle - intricate, delicate, diaphanous scarf trembling in melodies only I hear, heartsongs escaped lips of a siren in distance where stars grow... Reading wonder in silk strands woven as if by angel's hands; imagined some magic spun for me a web that had existed eternally, though never seen 'till revealed accidentally in reflections of some ancient lights Today I'm made of starfire sharpest blades can't uncover; in morning, pondering patterns clouds make in blue skies like child's discoveries; listening to sonatas in sunsets as sweet tastes of poetry relieve lingering stings of doubt in my mouth
robert-zanfad
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 4:25 PM UTC
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