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myrrh 4d
Quick thought, fate deems me to be forsaken
Faith has been shaken, your love was just a ruse
You love to decide when you feel for me, you pick and choose
You make me feel blue, ironically that's my favourite colour
I have no clue what to do about you, because there will be no other
I understand that loves a mountain and you have to trek to the top
But the peak is below sea level and I don't want to drown, so I think we should stop
Townes crooning to my fevered head,
As I'm cast through a mindscape of love and hatred,
Shame and pride,
Sailing one great hallucination,
As if on a new rollercoast track,
Smoother than a ball bearing rolling across oiled glass.

Hooked by the hopeless story as it is told,
Of a curse laid upon those who have sight,
To see what lied in the fog and impenetrable,
Those vile machinations that they had laid.

Throat going dry as the mind burns and fills the burnt remains with cotton,
Time stretches out ahead,
A weight settling in behind the eyes.

The addict's words have such a painful splash across the airwaves,
it taking my fuzzy self a few moments that it isn't just Zandt's voice in the fray with a whirlwind of guitar strokes,
but a lonely harmonica,
That is his words droning through such a fabled instruments.

The walls warble with the tune,
The flag flutters into sight line as lungs are filled deep and shudder.

A controversial documentary plays as Zevon hammers upon the piano,
A crescendo of a warriors tale,
The old days of Rhodesia as it sung out like a beacon of the colonial world,
Right or wrong isn't my right to determine,
For I wasn't there,
Which brought back the last old guns of an even older world,
An age of adventures and thrills,
Unknown danger and reward.

As I think I settle back into the normal,
I look out and see only a half hour has passed,
And the fever is still burning strong.
Losing vision on the mountain, sun begins to set
Find us standing at the summit, shaped by silhouette
Search for answers in the wild, or find inner peace
Let what you know begin to flow, spiritual release
As worries numb, answers will come, time is only now
Succumb to senses, drop defenses, find oneself somehow
I can confirm that an ancient city of ruins exist here
Old man that I am!
A mountain of stone reflecting a past,
a pleading for words of wisdom
on knees made weak from a burdened life
calling to *** for some relief.
Like the iron curtain’s silence,
there’s no reply!
Shadows of demons prowl the rubble monument.
I can confirm that an ancient city of ruins exist here
in the stone mountain of my heart.
Nava Um Oct 11
A volcano building,
Releasing pressure
Keeping balance
Simultaneously
Growing toward
And coming from
A big ******* mystery
sorry about the language
Daisy Marrow Oct 11
If you're traveling on your own,
I can be your companion.
In the mountains,
we'll carve our prays there,
and leave our footprints along the sides.
We can sing songs with birds
and harmonize with the ***** creek.
We can see nothing but the abundance of old pine trees
for miles and miles.
In these cold winters, the fog walks
the grounds hiding the path.
So hold my hand and be my guide
for these hills aren't my native.
We'll make our home in the low valley.
Although you sleep in the day
and I sleep in the night,
there will always be a daybreak we could meet at.
We must be up in some north country
we must be loving our lives down in the mountains.
2014
An old love
rob kistner Oct 6
_

flashing golden 'long an autumn lane
carried sprightly on the winds
the rustle of brisk aspens
crisp and sparkling

echoed silvery down the canyon
tumbled urgent over boulders
reverbrant crystal stream
chilled effervescent

earthy fragrance through sping's window
wafting gently on the breeze
year's first mown lawn
fresh and heady

pleasured murmurs from my lover's lips
breathed silken 'cross my cheek
whispered passion
in sensuous secrets

all these
bring my heart to quicken
stir my spirit to awaken
and set my yearning soul
a'tremble

_


rob kistner © 2012
2nd revision © 2018
A rewrite of a revision, from earlier this year, with which I wasn't satisfied.
The original poem was written in 2010.
broken glass surrounds the realm of things that can't be found
lightning taps on mountain peaks in flames that kiss the ground
eyes that speak of worlds alive can never truly know
what secrets wait beyond the sea, lost so long ago

a daughter cries in light of day, a son goes off to fight
a mother tames the hounds of war, a father loses sight
shattered frames of captive past, nowhere to run or hide
tears collide with barren soil will soon exhume the light
He says I smell like rain,
so to complement me he smells of
freshly washed stone.
Dust rising in the air,
sometime in April,
when my showers have cleansed him.
We are not the same person.
He is grounded,
I live in the air
'til I come crashing to the ground,
where he waits for me.
They say water will break earth.
He's broken me instead,
in the most beautiful way,
and together we will create mountains;
Unscalable and true,
Deep and ancient and wise.
And when we are dead
we will stand monumented.
Our journey through life,
when he was rough
and I was a storm
of fury and form,
and you will remember us.
This was written about my ex-fiance 28/4/17.
In arrow form storks,
Wing towards the mountain at dawn;
It’s one at the tip!
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