t r a i l s
of light-glazed ephemera
w a f t
from plain to hills;
*G i l d e d*
grams of silken
warm with pine
p i t t e r - p a t t e r s ,
D a N c E S t E p P i N g
of a polo field.
‘Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that
I love - that makes life and nature harmonise.’
- George Eliot
last string of sunlight reaches through the branches before it disappears,
my sheets tinted orange,
lingering headache, heavy eyelids,
chopin slowly fading out in my head
the window's open; cold air-kissed skin,
these moment, these fragments i cherish,
saving them for the times they'll be gone.
The thing about the river,
is it takes away your pain,
absorbing all yout tragedies
and locking them far away.
I've got black holes in my memories
from where the river rushed.
Left behind all I find
is a minefield drenched in dust.
The thing about the river,
is it gives you memories new,
fills up with a distraction
to stop you falling through.
Because millions of fragments
are enough to peice together
a distorted crystalisation
of a time when things were better.
Yes the thing about the river,
is it's not a simple fete.
It takes tyour childhood in hands
and plasters it complete.
- Anisah Mariah
The river of childhood - protecting your mind from all those who could harm you, including your own memories.
Everyday the new stuff is here
And I'm loosing myself in fear!
Can't see myself anywhere,
been tormented with none of my share.
Its beyond me, can't help myself
What they shoved to my face
I cannot repair.
In all this disarray
the fragments I'm loosing of myself.
Everybody keeps on pushing forward,
but it drags behind me, in the back!
Sometimes what you cling to most
Is the one to hurt you most!
The whole world finds it easy
Am I the only one suffering?
I must confess my love,
Ships in the night, my dove,
I do but see you driving by,
I'll love you till the end of time,
But I do not to pieces to fall,
Fragments of love, that's all,
A smile, a wave, a brief hello,
I confess my love, where did you go?
Or where do you come from, my dove?
To you, I confess my secret love..........
All the burdens in my hands
And all the nightmares I have,
trying to escape from what I've become
collecting the fragments
just for the pain I need to overcome.
Believe me, when I tell you this
I don't need this, Any of this!
but in this fake world,
can't grasp what's what?
then in the end, all I can feel
is the scars I have,
that you left to fill this void!
wish I had some magic potion,
or some kind of spell to cast upon you,
to stop all the grieving you feed upon.
You pride yourself with your ******* throne,
now its time,
Let me show you how its really done!
whichever you decide
at the edge of the dock
Fragments of mem’ries
trapped inside this worry loop
distance cutting me
Though my heart’s still stitched with love
please mend my chaotic mind
ripped from my bewildered soul
knitted into words
Scraps of me to you I send
please untie my tangled thoughts
The old town..
Was it old?
Where am I?
I walk into what seems to be an old dance hall.
I try my luck on a game there and win big.
I then walk around the old town.
I still do not know where I am at.
I think I am in the town of Memory.
Or at least fragments of memory.
Fragments of all the towns I have been to put together like a forgotten puzzle.
Outside of town I find my sleeping self.
There by the river that runs to the oceans of my mind.
I need to wake myself up.
I look around before I do so.
I enjoy the created river and woods..
The detail is amazing.
This is the gift of painters.
To create with thy hand what thy dreams present.
In order to wake myself up I simply have to fall asleep here..
I lay on my back in the sand by the river..
The sun speckles through the leaves in the trees creating a way back home..
I fall asleep and wake up..
A beautiful dream I had last night. I was well aware that it was a dream. Which made it even more beautiful. It was like I was on the outer rims of heaven.