Dec 2012
With lines of finitude painted cream
And light
I sit alone with no one
In waiting
Stalling for what, you may ask?
A putrid letter on my lap
The misshapen form appears in front of you
A laugh out of uneasiness
Traveling to a foreign land
Hand print teller's of one dollar fortune
A mistake of love
And if I were to open up myself up completely
Would you even have the time to listen?
Who does anymore? Really listen?
The intricacies of sound entering one's ear
Has been ***** and abused
There is
So much
Noise
Now
There is very little silence to remind us
What is waiting behind
Each of our very own doors
Turn away
Run and hide
Surround oneself
With battlements
High walls
Chain mail and all
But, do remember,
That will not protect you
From every man's
Fall
Absent memories of past-lives
Float on the fornicating
River of our parent's lie's
They've seen and not told us
Perhaps they've seen nothing at all
So not to share was not their place to do so
I ask to continue the search
For faith
Not religious
Not political
Not communal
Not social games
Go forth and search for
One's own faith
Have you not seen one's own core?
Have you not felt its heat?
Have you not tasted its sweetness?
Have you not drifted your hands
Over the fine, soft and smooth pelt
Of oneself before all this noise?
It is beautiful
I am
You are
We are
Quite beautiful
And the creative act goes
From land unknown to
Known
Where criticism and form
Restrict what was once pure
Oh Purity!
Untainted by man's world
Yet sharing just a glimpse
Of what once was
Like stale breath
We breathe this round-faced
Polish muse of a memory
Churning for the hope of forgiveness
But only receiving melancholy
Even a fellowship would not take the pain away
Even the balance of the world on my fingertips
Even two hearts filled with love swearing never to leave
A bank with infinite sums with one thousand and one locks
Would not take the pain of knowing and not knowing away
A chair by the river
See it rest there
Sitting with itself
A woman crossing the street
The child running in front of her
A bus stop and a trashcan filled
To the brim with the tossed
A sight of normalcy though
The bridge that hangs above them
Reminds her of their
Deepest dread of obscurity
Our struggle against meaninglessness
But have faith they say
The creator wants to
See thee
Soon
And light
I sit alone with no one
In waiting
Stalling for what, you may ask?
A putrid letter on my lap
The misshapen form appears in front of you
A laugh out of uneasiness
Traveling to a foreign land
Hand print teller's of one dollar fortune
A mistake of love
And if I were to open up myself up completely
Would you even have the time to listen?
Who does anymore? Really listen?
The intricacies of sound entering one's ear
Has been ***** and abused
There is
So much
Noise
Now
There is very little silence to remind us
What is waiting behind
Each of our very own doors
Turn away
Run and hide
Surround oneself
With battlements
High walls
Chain mail and all
But, do remember,
That will not protect you
From every man's
Fall
Absent memories of past-lives
Float on the fornicating
River of our parent's lie's
They've seen and not told us
Perhaps they've seen nothing at all
So not to share was not their place to do so
I ask to continue the search
For faith
Not religious
Not political
Not communal
Not social games
Go forth and search for
One's own faith
Have you not seen one's own core?
Have you not felt its heat?
Have you not tasted its sweetness?
Have you not drifted your hands
Over the fine, soft and smooth pelt
Of oneself before all this noise?
It is beautiful
I am
You are
We are
Quite beautiful
And the creative act goes
From land unknown to
Known
Where criticism and form
Restrict what was once pure
Oh Purity!
Untainted by man's world
Yet sharing just a glimpse
Of what once was
Like stale breath
We breathe this round-faced
Polish muse of a memory
Churning for the hope of forgiveness
But only receiving melancholy
Even a fellowship would not take the pain away
Even the balance of the world on my fingertips
Even two hearts filled with love swearing never to leave
A bank with infinite sums with one thousand and one locks
Would not take the pain of knowing and not knowing away
A chair by the river
See it rest there
Sitting with itself
A woman crossing the street
The child running in front of her
A bus stop and a trashcan filled
To the brim with the tossed
A sight of normalcy though
The bridge that hangs above them
Reminds her of their
Deepest dread of obscurity
Our struggle against meaninglessness
But have faith they say
The creator wants to
See thee
Soon
