The traits you once considered d e l i c a t  e
Are now traits I should e r a d i c a t e
As you r u i n e d aspects of myself I didn't even know existed
As you brought to the surface
A yearning d e p e n d e n c e
As our soul intertwined,
As your path met with m i n e
I got caught up in the midst
Of the combination of our substance
And in the midst of it a l l ,
I l o s t a sense of myself.

I'm a book,
written in a foreign language;
one nobody can understand.

Try to comprehend;
you'll be met with confusion,
as you can't decipher what doesn't make sense.

Don't let a book lead your life,
Don't let a book help you out,
Don't let a book teach you something.

Just read the book,
see what you know,
and return it.
Immediately.

She smelled like the dirt,
The deep rich of earth,
The water and the air,
The carbon and the mirth.

She looked like the sky,
Her head lifted high,
Clouds in her features,
Birds passing by.

She tasted like the stream,
The water cold and clean,
With the fauna and the falls,
She was all in between.

She sounded like the night,
The wisp of bats in flight,
The chirping of the crickets
Before the morning's light.

She felt like trees:
Strong, but in the breeze,
Swaying to the music
Only heard by me.

the lyrics, encrypted with beauty, blanket the fragile innocence that births soul

lone clarity with delusion, impair the freedom of rationality

however, with the suffocation, the isolation, any person would embark the toll

as sight to the blind, sound to the deaf, touch to the untouched are dire for such entity

but who are we to bask in such thirst?

sorcerer belish enslumber cracks three points
infine sound weave ebb under slumber access
Waves screech bedside calculations wither joints
Crashe Metre reaper birth soul convalesce
shore alive Golden egg ingress and egress
short comings awry pur-golden desert sand
Ogre transactions haunting Course sea and Land

Bemoaning Similes & Metaphors

         (the lack thereof )


I cannot think in similes or metaphors.

I can, but it’s

An artifice.

A gift

I’ve not been left with.

Of course,

I’ve got Thesaurus –

My old pal -

To push me

In the simile

Direction.

Those

Whose

Aptitude’s

To see,

Their inner eye

Comparing parallels unconsciously –

A gift of gene and DNA –

Overwhelm me.

While I moan about my lack,

They sit with throne and luck

Expressing with an ease,

Anything they ****** well please

In metaphors and similes

I lie in bed,

This running through my head.

That’s why it’s here.



Bemoaning Smiles & Metaphors 1.13.2010/8.17.2017
A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin

Put your fingers into your ears
to not hear any distraction,
close your eyes
to not see the disturbing world,
burn out your taste buds
to not ever again taste the awfully awesome lips of your beloved,
peel your skin until you see the muscle tissue
to not ever again feel the other's skin on you.
You will be free in the cage,
the cage you don't know about.  
Stay sensible and find the beauty where it seems impossible to find it.
Love the wind cooling down your warmed up skin,
let the horizon hide the sun showing you red light,
it's going to make you crazy and happy.
Sit down calmly and quietly
to hear the waves telling you that the circle of life is not going to stop,
you have to flow.
And remember that lips,
showed you how to be the man.