his barren field mind
a dust mote adrift in the vast ocean of
humanity's ever changing face
buoyancy of his heart can keep him afloat another day
for he is sure that as a good man
he can come to no harm
but in the haste of folly
is the seeds of what awaits him
his rough face looks out into distance
and knows no fear
or perchance just shows none
for every man has that kernel deep in his soul
that awaits him each night as he folds himself into his bed
that he dreads to
look at
i borrowed from the silence
i stole from the darkness
i leaned on the morning
and broke pieces off the sky
but sooner or later you have to pay the price
the words came harder to come by
the phrases that used to roll of my fingers
like sweet rain
now bleed like a cake of agony
eat it slow
relish each mouthful
like moms apple pie
presence
feel it
know its sad dark face
bleed with its sinister thought
so sure was i
but desire uncovers beasts inside of us
and her face may be fair
but its bitter bread
dry and harsh
diseased and barren
that one gags at you force yourself to feed on its flesh
bleed on her
as she looks up at you with trues loves gift
in her still innocent eye
touch her clean surface
taste her fresh sheets
knowing all the time inside
that from this moment it will never be the same
stolen the thing within
within the within
and you know it aint right
fourty years ago
and i could have known
did i know
was i warned
why am here
it was a nuance of the moment
that made him look to her for more
than just a fleeting release
more than some casual words meant to placate
she never asked him to build an empire
she only asked that he survive night
she had no dreams of riches
no aspirations of greed
he says to himself
to her
forgive me
far into the night
far into the depths of the soul
far into the realizations and rationalizations
that makes up a man
day to day
but distance will not restrain
the hand hand hoping to cease that fatal flaw
only reality can accomplish that
it is held hostage to the idea
that the soil of any soul
can be a home for the seeds of a future
born of such a presence
of such barren hope
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
his barren field mind
a dust mote adrift in the vast ocean of
humanity's ever changing face
buoyancy of his heart can keep him afloat another day
for he is sure that as a good man
he can come to no harm
but in the haste of folly
is the seeds of what awaits him
his rough face looks out into distance
and knows no fear
or perchance just shows none
for every man has that kernel deep in his soul
that awaits him each night as he folds himself into his bed
that he dreads to
look at
i borrowed from the silence
i stole from the darkness
i leaned on the morning
and broke pieces off the sky
but sooner or later you have to pay the price
the words came harder to come by
the phrases that used to roll of my fingers
like sweet rain
now bleed like a cake of agony
eat it slow
relish each mouthful
like moms apple pie
presence
feel it
know its sad dark face
bleed with its sinister thought
so sure was i
but desire uncovers beasts inside of us
and her face may be fair
but its bitter bread
dry and harsh
diseased and barren
that one gags at you force yourself to feed on its flesh
bleed on her
as she looks up at you with trues loves gift
in her still innocent eye
touch her clean surface
taste her fresh sheets
knowing all the time inside
that from this moment it will never be the same
stolen the thing within
within the within
and you know it aint right
fourty years ago
and i could have known
did i know
was i warned
why am here
it was a nuance of the moment
that made him look to her for more
than just a fleeting release
more than some casual words meant to placate
she never asked him to build an empire
she only asked that he survive night
she had no dreams of riches
no aspirations of greed
he says to himself
to her
forgive me
far into the night
far into the depths of the soul
far into the realizations and rationalizations
that makes up a man
day to day
but distance will not restrain
the hand hand hoping to cease that fatal flaw
only reality can accomplish that
it is held hostage to the idea
that the soil of any soul
can be a home for the seeds of a future
born of such a presence
of such barren hope
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