If I could act on my revenge now, would I?
Some kill, some steal, some break your heart
And you thought I would let it go
Let you off
Broken hearts, break bones, and break up fast
And I don't wanna let go
So in my grave, I'll rot
I've dug two graves for us, my dear
Can't pretend I was perfect when you in fear
Oh man, what a world of things I hear
If I could act on my revenge now, would I?
Some kill, some steal, some break your heart
And you thought that I would let go
Let you off
Broken hearts, break bones, and break up fast
And I don't wanna let go
So in my grave, I'll rot

I knew a man of wisdom, faith and knowledge.
A man of destiny.
I knew him well enough to know,
this man was far from free.

For wisdom comes from pain,
and faith from the unseen.
And knowledge from the hard pursuit,
of learning what has been.

I knew this man, and he knew me.
We frowned upon each other.
When death came calling suddenly,
we counted neither brother.

He passed from here to else beyond,
to where I have no knowledge.
Yet, if you ask the text,
they stuffed in him at college

He withered into blackness
and became a captive of the fact
that nothingness awaits us all
in darkened final act.

Such knowledge… oh wasted man…
from such knowledge I abstain.

Ashes to ashes belief to belief
harlon rivers May 12

There drones a constant unrecognizable voice calling
Its restless mutters coursing rampantly,
uttering through these tangled conduits within
Pulling strongly with an undeniable might,
come by here to carry me down ―  give forth
an untraveled pathway,   I've never laid feet upon


The veiled dialect echoes ― thickly flavored;
an evoking voice conjured of a thousand little voices
hold forth as one,    penetrating ― silently
Screaming within a bitter cold gale,  
a harrowing rogue breathe warring at my soul,
trying to feel for a hope overcome by reality
There's not a clear path dead reckoning
that wends away Stormy seas' gales of doubt
  

A netherworld threshold beseechingly beckons
from beyond breadth of conscious realm
A hearkening ache warily drawn out unspoken,
summoning to follow an urgent path;


Imploring to conquer whatever prevents ―
hold sway, though fecund fears arise
like muddy flood waters' bitter sweet philter
to the parched and the hungry heart


For it’s a journey trodden in threadbare worn out shoes
to sense the earthen murmur beneath calling me home
urging a callused barefoot soul's blind perpetuation
humility without surrender ― mercy shorn of pity


A timeworn wary moment lurks undeniably ominous,
standing alone with the hoarse, grating voice of a storm
Prone to strive to push on through to another distant shore;
swimming through the tempest torn at the convergence,
where the river of cradle to the grave inescapably flows ―


It takes a lot to understand man's entreating wonderment;
it takes a lot to look upon the flaws of flesh he yearns
a lifetime to shed,    like tide washed sands and ashes
bestrewn haphazardly by fate,   scattered raindrops
orphaned at the confluence of river and sea


Trepidation whispers like thunder within a resilient pulse,
a broken heart's prevailing tide writhes deep as well
Utterance rumbling amidst a certain kind of raging unease
through the unraveled promises belied at a long journey’s end,
from a great distance beneath a paradise sky still so far away...



© harlon rivers ... May 2017 ... all rights reserved

"There shall I bathe my weary soul
In seas of heavenly rest
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast"

July 1900

Walking through my local, historic graveyard today(graves going back to 1680) the words on an ostentatious headstone above in memory of "Sophia" died July 1900 caught my attention

And when he started perpetuating my lungs
I did not hesitate, I started clawing him out
"Don't you dare go further in my heart"

Too bad, my words
They were kerosine to his flame-stricken mind
He just gave me a smirk. "Damn he lost it"

Brace yourself young sailor
For it is your grave that awaits you
Blame me not I wish
For you knew all along

Darling, you went
inside the eye of the cyclone.

Missed I wasn't,
teardrops on my tombstone no longer;

Only a bunch of dandelions,
caressing the cold parchment
when nobody was around;

Blown by the wind,
left alone though it hasn't sinned;

Slowly withering to die,
consumed by cruel, cruel world
the same way as
I was.

My body ran cold and nobody to hold.

The flower girl sees
and views the world
with her daffodil eyes
and rosy red cheeks.

She is intrigued by
the succulent smell
of cherry blossoms
in the spring.

But there is a moment
when she is saddened.
It is when the white flowers
fall upon her lover’s grave.

originally written 1/19/17

Though it swallows our friends, the grave never speaks
And our voices can’t reach them now; they’re buried too far down
It’s difficult to imagine how dark it is for you, I guess this was something you had to go through
What’s it like, being free? Is it like a dream?
You never liked the noise, the ruckus and all the ploys
I guess you got what you always wanted, though it all seems haunted
This world seems a little darker to me too, of my cold grave it’s a little preview
Your memory will die now that you’re gone, inevitable like the going of dawn
This journey without you, I wonder if it even matters whether I do
The birds sing as before, I see when I’m gone there’ll be no uproar
With you in silence, to the earth I return and bring some balance
As it was so it will be, a life is gone and gives another its key
This life is pointless as can be, but it defines our eternity
Soon silence comes and we leave this place, so toil for the next and for this grace

From my book, "Aimless Wanderer"
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1544626347

The eyes, as they look
No one gives the hoot
He was one last hope to last
But dead in brain
Soon his grave burnt in fears
Nothing could hold back her tears
...
A shiver
Clinched his hands
And the town was no more like the past
And a hero dies
As the town falls

Wordsinalign Apr 15

Translucent stars get cloaked by the glittering elevation,
They douse the yellow burning on boulders that lack sensation.
A tin-plated bowl plays pretend as porcelain cup,
pressured by the maintainance of going up, up and up.

His loneliness came in waves,
every time he visited his brother’s grave.
This is biggest of reason why he took off,
to live across the desert far from the trough.
He pressed down every emotion and kept it pressed against the last, new ones began to take form with secrets of his past.
He had earned a dance with the devil, cursed by his days of revel.
He uncovered a million reasons why he shouldn’t stay,
For reasons he never figured, what was he supposed to do to not run away.

And so he left where silence felt like a familiar existence,
his doorway locked out from world’s insistence.
He lived far away in resistance from the city of daze,
a place where the yellow sunlight gleams, created a haze.
Surrounded by rows of empty parking lots lit by floodlights of reason, through his window he witnessed the metamorphosis of season;
In gardens of sober logic, he lived exotic.

His heavy casing of heart began to soften,
with every passing day he saw often.
He admired her from afar her glow was irresistible,
he drew close to her love like it was inescapable.
All this while he carried his burden with thorns of grief,
his heart had healed when he sighed a relief.
After days months and years, he lifted his hands to the heavens,
and prayed for all his sins that were left unforgiven.
The world spin around again and was not flat,
Look what happens with love like that?

Next page