Thy voice is on the rolling air;
  I hear thee where the waters run;
  Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.

What art thou then? I cannot guess;
  But tho' I seem in star and flower
  To feel thee some diffusive power,
I do not therefore love thee less:

My love involves the love before;
  My love is vaster passion now;
  Tho' mix'd with God and Nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh;
  I have thee still, and I rejoice;
  I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee tho' I die.

Ironic it was for such Hero's Song
To be played on a Mattress we call the Sea
Just when your Daughter cried for your Belong
We need to Sing again; Then Pray haply
For the many Noble Deeds you left behind
Despite this Age of the Pork Barrel's Tune
Such Rumours unfound; And Profile a Lie
Which most in our Office hoarded our Boon
Live well Beyond, Great Sir! I take to Vow
Your Aubourn Treatment to our Country's Hope
Guide your Duty's Heirs; And Family enow
And bring this Rosary blessed by your Pope.
The Song is Sung, even on Deaf Concerns
I guess it's quite Young for People to Learn.

Running down these vacant halls
Behind the stage before curtain call
In these moments, I'm taken back
Three years before the beatten track

And somewhere 'neath that cutrained hide
Comes a feeling from deep inside
Not quite joy, not yet grief
A fleeting moment, yet never brief
And with a gasp in the dark unseen
Comes my gasp, a silent scream

Not even audible, yet still a song
Brand new, but I grew it all along
A wish for a past away from this pain
A wish for future, never to come again
And as breathless words rise up again
I silently mouth my memoriam

For gone is the girl I once was
Yet still she's here, in every cause
Then I didn't know half of what I do now
Never had a clue as to what was about
To happen to me, to my loves and my mind
I want it so bad, like a fool to rewind
But I know to get better, I have to go on
Even if I miss those old patterned songs

So in an attempt to take a stand
Here I type a feeble memoriam
For I can't even start to change it all
My past will always have its power and call
But I must leave and I must grow
So wish me luck and here I go
For though I will fail again and again
Falling back on way back when
I will get up, and then will stand
Shouting in memoriam

Poppies abloom in memoriam.

Fields content of the past.

Storms brewing above.

To renew them once again.

Memories of battle, scars on the earth.
Revealed once again.

In the fields.

It was the poppies to bloom

In memoriam.

You are in my head
But there's not many of you left
I am now in alliance with the negativity
My good thoughts are retreating from myself
I've spent many nights trying to get my mind aligned
And Watching horror movies hoping the killer was fine
I've lost track of time.

This writing is in memoriam to my hopes and dreams becoming a crime

Self destruction is easier than it looks.

" Don't walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Albert Camus

                 ~              ~               ~    

The telegraph road circled through the foothills,
rising towards the majestic mountain high
It’s been a long and twisting passage soon forgotten,
with the pavement abruptly dead ending,  
just below the timberline

The dawning blue heavens look so much closer now
Just a step away from standing within reach                                  
The birds uplifted on the telegraph wire rest atop me;
perched on the final material traces
disregarded by a digital world

My awakening soul is ascending beyond
the distant alpine meadow horizon  
At the threshold of an untrodden wilderness wonderland,
climbing up above the meandering clouds

It’s exhilarating to look back and know
there is no turning back around;
I’ve never been higher
and can never get back down

What unknown frontier lies in wait before me now?
Just on the other side of the impossible dream?
The last step forward to find the next step beyond the bounds
There is not that much that changes,
when we just repeat the same old song

The atmosphere’s thin air leaves me gasping for wings
Like dust and ashes free to soar with the tempest breeze
If only time would sever these loathsome ties that bind
The ones that enchain the weight of this load unto me

While understanding the pace to a long journey’s rhythm
The only barometer you have to trust is in your heart
Adaptation is at the core of freedom's survival
But it feels almost like running away  

I have felt the fear of falling with nothing left to lose
I’ve climbed as far as flesh and bones can reach
I've come this far always feeling subtly afraid
It has been a great distance back from the beginning;
knowing I must take these last steps alone.

Understanding it was love that brought me here
Naturally tugs at the spirit in my soul encouraging me on
I'll keep searching for the shining light of guidance
Listening for a voice that softly beckons me home...



written by:    harlon rivers ... May 24th, 2013

I trust I have not wasted breath:
  I think we are not wholly brain,
  Magnetic mockeries; not in vain,
Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death;

Not only cunning casts in clay:
  Let Science prove we are, and then
  What matters Science unto men,
At least to me? I would not stay.

Let him, the wiser man who springs
  Hereafter, up from childhood shape
  His action like the greater ape,
But I was born to other things.

"So careful of the type?" but no.
From scarped cliff and quarried stone
She cries, "A thousand types are gone:
I care for nothing, all shall go.

"Thou makest thine appeal to me:
I bring to life, I bring to death:
The spirit does but mean the breath:
I know no more." And he, shall he,

Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair,
Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies,
Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,

Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation's final law--
Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek'd against his creed--

Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills,
Who battled for the True, the Just,
Be blown about the desert dust,
Or seal'd within the iron hills?

No more? A monster then, a dream,
A discord. Dragons of the prime,
That tare each other in their slime,
Were mellow music match'd with him.

O life as futile, then, as frail!
O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
What hope of answer, or redress?
Behind the veil, behind the veil.

Doors, where my heart was used to beat
  So quickly, not as one that weeps
  I come once more; the city sleeps;
I smell the meadow in the street;

I hear a chirp of birds; I see
  Betwixt the black fronts long-withdrawn
  A light-blue lane of early dawn,
And think of early days and thee,

And bless thee, for thy lips are bland,
  And bright the friendship of thine eye;
  And in my thoughts with scarce a sigh
I take the pressure of thine hand.

By the fond name that was his own and mine,
The last upon his lips that strove with doom,
He called me and I saw the light assume
A sudden glory and around him shine;
And nearer now I saw the laureled line
Of the august of Song before me loom,
And knew the voices, erstwhile through the gloom,
That whispered and forbade me to repine.
And with farewell, a shaft of splendor sank
Out of the stars and faded as a flame,
And down the night, on clouds of glory, came
The battle seraphs halting rank on rank;
And lifted heavenward to heroic peace,
He passed and left me hope beyond surcease.