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Iron Feather Nov 2014
Have you stared into the eyes of another?
And found yourself out of breath, out of time
Where your heart beats with a flutter
In the realm of beauty, in the face of divine
Where the world begins to slow
All aggression set aside
As the purest of thoughts consumes you
You have found love and I say it with pride.
How blackened must a heart be
To see it as unclean
To mutilate our most beautiful of feature
And do it all in the name of that unseen
Is it feral in its nature?
Is there not but lust they see?
Within their own hearts they know its joy
But in the hearts of my brothers they call it blasphemy
What fear is it that besieges them?
That crept into there mind at night
So that they may stand behind the powerful
To revel in there hatred to revel in there spite.
But do they think they face fragility
A surrender of all that is right
The truth of love is that it will always endure
That is its beauty that is its might.
Know that they are driven by fear
To that their cowardice bound
But I have seen the unity of love
No greater power can be found
Know that oblivion beckons
But it will be them who answer the call
But reach out your hand to meet them
And at last into this pit they will fall.
The world may seem black
Pitiless and cruel
But know there are some who will always stand beside you
Be assured it is the privilege of us all.
This is a poem in responce to the oppression of our brothers and sisters in russia
Jaspal Kaur Apr 2019
Whenever I am sick at heart,
a river of never ending thoughts
flows inside me.
A state of utter confusion besieges me.
Tears are at the brink of falling.
My heart at the verge of collapsing.
Sense of complete helplessness surrounds me.
This in when words come in for my rescue
"Writing is real healer"
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2012
Still
Killing mayhem edges more to the center taking on the excepted reality and inches forward as the new
Norm another Idol in the form of a celebrity goes over the edge but we still hang on every word they

Speak now a best seller and block buster film about children killing each other it’s alright we still hunger
We are war like at our core it was once called barbarism through listening and being groomed from high

Moral ground we advanced combat and conflict was made the last resort of civilized man nobility of
Spirit was celebrated it was evidenced by the spires of churches and synagogues that pierce the sky

Their proclamation faith has vanquished ignorance and thoughts that were riddled with disease were
Routed although they still assailed the heathen in far off dominions that at first were given little thought

But truth is relentless its roots it would still be hard to prove in today’s environment that moral
Uprightness is stronger and more reasonable than the curse of evil that contends for the heart and soul

Of all who inhabit earth I made this argument in disgrace when I first started writing seriously twenty
Years ago I add it here

Disgrace


This land void of devotion gone is the church steeples
Replaced by voices and shadows of drug dealers on each corner
Now they are the keepers, lost cities, death stalks its peoples
Nothing is sacred in this polluted and diffused land
No longer hallowed be thy name, it’s as if he never came
Forgotten is any standard of moral excellence
The once high ideals only represent a fool’s parlance
Man declares I throw off these restraints only to find darker chains
The book that once guided this great land
We now betray with each waking day
Our hearts and mind it did ignite, now it’s word we can’t stand
Powerless and feeble we stumble, anxious ever moment
Just to remember is not enough, best confess our pride
Make sacrifice with our lips, to burn on altars on high
There is a short season for all to make amends to regain our stride
March on to glory with it burning on the inside
You don’t have to be astute in business to see the sound investment
Bring your poverty of spirit leave with the riches of his last testament
It offers the greatest rate of exchange
Light for darkness, life for death, selfless love for selfishness

Still it is like taking straw to a windblown bare bluff and you spell this and warning out dire
Circumstances that our action are bringing in themselves and then in the larger reality already

Evil after being reduced from the glory and its law that was the supreme order of Heaven was
Dismissed as unworthy unfit at that level their removal was described in the dramatic allegory

As lighting they were discharged as lighting is a charge it would also indicate the white pure
Fiery indignation pure cleansing occurred as they were a stain now that disgust is everywhere

It besieges our world in great and small matters they are swayed by its continual assaults
Its rampant hunger is devouring man wholly the wind if studied would reveal it is being bared

Upon the wind it stench and burning reaches to the end of time and the ghastly smell of
Human flesh that burns continuously in the lake of fire the second death if you are not born again

You are dead in your sins and the second death will be pronounced at the great white
Throne all ages will stand before the lamb once the lamb of sacrifice now the judge for them that

Through it all Still resist and make mockery of his suffering God said ones such as this will not escape
His righteous wrath over the ages tears have dropped at altars continuity from the eyes of the faithful

They form a stream that has reached ever life with true love how ugly and cruel does his death have to
Be told the only way to know he was human was his physical form otherwise he was just a bloodied

Animal mauled beyond recognition but still you remain lost it is your fault and this fact still wearies
And makes all of us who love bleed and we shamelessly pursue you to the final day that is nearer than
Any think                                          

                                                                       STILL THERE IS TIME

Who can fathom the deep water of his love I recounted how in the most broken place of my life with
News that my older sister died you would have to know my life to understand the loss because of

A family that did what you’re doing they left the safety of His fold and for dad it was drink a man called
To preach first a drinker then a drunk then a wino where life was liquid and filled with untold torment

That was his confused disgusted shameful end my mother followed him out of the life giving sustenance
Of holy living her first stop was she moved in with one of the richer men in our community good trade

Right how long did the prize last a few dismal months and then the real good life began she sent her
Daughter into bars to get money so they could live some would call that pimping don’t worry a *****

Doesn’t miss a trick no there isn’t one despicable thing she wouldn’t stoop to her last words were it was
Wrong but I loved it spoken like a true idiot you think heaven will be opened to any of us that practices

Sin of any kind we deserve flames that will never purify but will contend for that end forever I missed
That life by to Godly grandmas who lived and died in the faith but I have had moments that I failed

I caught up with my parents if only for a short time and it scared me to think I could live like that all the
Time but again to restate my sister died oh at her funeral she had her last say the songs were defiant

And mildly vile in that setting but at least she was truthful as she was in life she was the devil’s daughter
A hell raiser to the end and beyond but the savior met me I was twenty five hundred miles away I

Calculated the time difference while she was driving back from delivery Christmas presents and they
Say most likely an enlarged heart caused the accident she drove hell bent for leather any way and add

The beers always close by her inheritance from father and she would love this she hit the main power
Pole and knocked all of electricity out for a nearby town for hours finishing by tearing the guys fence
Down and coming to a final rest in two senses of the world God bless her mom and dad had to be proud

The little girl from Sunday school gad been dead for years they saw to that for me my wife and I were
Returning from a Disney Christmas I was in the San Joaquin valley when this ominous dark came up

With a wind that carried weeds and debris in front of my car I felt an eerie unsettling feeling
Rush into my heart later as spoken it was at the time she left this world I felt its effects that far

Away but when we stopped for the night at familiar lodgings to break the trip up getting back to the bay
Area when we checked in some one was waiting for us such a peace pervaded the place folks I had been

There hundreds of times had great fun every time but this was different my wife verbalized it she is
Reserved to the point when she laughs at something I know it is really funny I laugh at any thing

But she made a point how peaceful it was I described it back a few pieces ago as luxuriant bliss we
Stayed an extra day it felt so great this was my cushion when I got home to a blinking answering

Machine I Was in a sense pulled into a haven of spiritual proportions built up for the blast that was
Coming that is your privilege and your status in life as his child yes all suffer like sorrows but one he

Comforts the other one pushes such care and love away as a parent God walks back into the shadows
My piece Night Thoughts was called hard to read and disturbing but it shows what and how Jesus even

Today handles Impending death of his wayward children this is one more road block God has put in your
Way to prevent you from going onto your destructive end Hell is just ahead
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
Cold is the night and full the moon,  
deathly silent,through a window I observe you.
I,a hunter and you, my prey,watching              
for when in your bed you will lay.              
I await with insurmountable patience          
the moment I shall have you in my presence.          
As the hours pass all grows still,            
I enter your bower and approach in silence,        
viewing your sleep and inhale deep,        
the scent of life emanates while you dream.        
Normally,my victim,already you would have been,
but,something detains me;imagining’s? maybe.                  
                  
In all the centuries of my existence                  
never had I felt this experience.                  
I enter with a singular objective                  
and full of intention,                  
the hunger besieges me                  
and your blood beckons.                  
Battling with my nature,                  
cautiously your slumbering body                  
I observe when in my direction you turn.                  
I realize once more,                  
the vitality at you core,                  
your blood I can almost taste                  
nearly knocking a lamp over in my haste.                  
I hear the blood running through your veins                  
and the beat of your heart which reminds me,                  
that mine, desiccated, will vibrate, never more.                  
                  
Even feeling thus something touches me;                  
could it be possible?                  
Incapable of tender feelings,                  
what is it that stops me?                  
This I do not understand,                  
observing you with curiosity;                  
what does he possess that stays my hand?                  
The humanity within illuminates him like firebrand                  
and I, a black butterfly attracted by the shine.                  
I do not wish to destroy that which,                  
within him glimmers,                  
I would prefer to be part of it,                  
but know not if I am worthy                  
for I have been a great sinner.                  
                  
I am a monster, for whom blood means life                  
yet a legend speaks of a possibility that love,                  
for creatures such as I, also exists.                  
Could it be that this fragile human                  
can be what my solitary existence                  
hath sought without knowing?                  
The choice, he will have to make,                  
without compulsion and born of the heart.                  
Being what I am, I could easily                  
make him love me, but it would destroy                  
his soul and be a lie I could not abide.                  
With all my faculties and supernatural abilities                  
I can only hope that he sees beyond my                  
despicable acts and my multitude of wrongs.                  
In my extended existence never, had I felt                  
this that now burdens me,                  
and, until this moment, had not known.                  
This feeling for a frail mortal                  
causes me trepidation, because surely,                  
this endeavor will never come to fruition.                  
                  
In the moment of this deep contemplation                  
the human awakes and observes me                  
with certain confusion.                  
His first questions are:                  
Who you are?  How did you enter?                  
Why have you come?                  
                  
I will not do you harm,I was only                  
observing your time of dreams.                  
I am called Mozelle, and I am,                  
to be sure, a terrifying                  
and bloodthirsty creature,                  
alas I cannot injure you                  
and that is somewhat perplexing.                  
What a novel sensation,                  
this feeling of refrain.                  
Something came to life within me,                  
when first your countenance, I did see.                  
Until this moment I knew not,                  
what was confusing me thus.                  
I came to clarify my doubts,                  
find the answers to the questions                  
that have plagued me with restless bouts                  
and, now that you are awake                  
I realize how much is at stake.                  
                  
From the first moment that I saw your face,                  
you introduced my dead heart to something                  
that could not possibly take place.                  
And now that the answers have come clear,                  
I will depart this place and lessen your fear.                  
I turned towards the window to exit…                  
(He whispers): "please do not go".                  
I hesitate; what must I do,                  
(I ask) to ease your mind?                  
It would easy to compel you not to fear,                  
but very difficult that you accept my love                  
and the eternity I wish to share.                  
This is a unique gift that I offer,                  
yet the decision is yours and,                  
your choice, sadly, I must obey.                  
But be warned to accept,                  
you should understand what it implies;                  
I will have to make you as I am,                  
to prolong your life. Together we will walk                  
through the passages of time,                  
discovering the intricacies of this love sublime.                  
She lowers her head in dread of the refusal                  
that surely she must come to expect.                  
                  
Finally he answers: "To wander in perpetuity,                  
a high price to pay for a love you                  
are not certain you can claim."                  
His heart races at the thought of her plight,             &n
This poem means too much to me for me to describe...
Olivia M Jackson Jun 2010
Fragmented parts of the person I once was return to me
The dark clouds that once followed me day and night depart from me
I am enchanted by the very thought of freedom
Liberty from the woes that once imprisoned me
Breaking free from the pain I allowed you to inflict
Yes, I allowed
Can man do to me that which I do not consent?
Alas the strength of my mind
My will to attain happiness
To survive and look destruction in the eye and say not so
You shall not destroy me!
I have risen to fight
To take back what is my own
Empowerment besieges me
I will be victorious in all that is set before me
I was on a quest when you slithered in
It was not you that I meant to find
Though pained by our meeting
I still dare say
My journey was triumphant
I found what I did not know that I seek
Strength immeasurable
Infinite power from within
Bitterness I cannot harbor
Only love and peace in knowing you have found joy
© 2010 Olivia M. Jackson
Debra A Baugh Jun 2012
Bestowed whispers abound
wisping against softness;
an alluvium flows in abated
breaths, crashing into dreams
awaiting uttered sighs;
aching to taste prurience rage
as tongue besieges pout
of want, awakening soul;
melding into silky fragility
gliding across masculinities
plain, caressing in tender
fingertip forages as I'm
consumed within his essence...uncoiled
Chelsea Nov 2012
The bellows of your breathing
beating back the baffling barrier
between bare-faced beloved beauties.
The backward bedlam of your benevolent
heart besieges the bold bandit
that bawls brazenly in my blood.
GK Mar 2013
Within my mind, perfect you stand,
And it's you who holds the upper hand,
Yet we are but acquaintances, at last,
An obscure future and without a past,
Obsessive habit besieges once again,
A distant appreciation with tainted fame,
For in your presence, I have become  afraid
You shan't be the person  who I have made.
Nirali Shah Feb 2015
The gentle green bottle
Filled the space with her soothing light
As she awakened the cat
snoozing over the snoozing dog.
Listening to the wind chime
That chimed along the wind.
Humble yet powerful that she was
Reader of the enclosed mind
The shrink of the depressed
The one that besieges
And yet the one that releases
the truth that hides
behind those moist cherry lips.
Oh the comfort of the green light
Soft enough to filter
The harsh sun rays
Unlike the cruel gaze of uncertainty.
So I lie
In the luminous presence
Of the pacifying green glass
Watching the devil's ivy
Thriving within her gorgeous self.
2nd February,2015
My drug, my escape
my gravity,
You are what I lean on
when wind beckons
shrilling of the whole world
amassing within
such small confines.
My air would still
upon silent panics
without you
my constant dosage.

My head is the mount,
my ears the hungry mouths
voracious their appetites, finicky
their tastes.
A hungry duet
yields no isolation.
Fuel the diet
or suffer endless
distraction.

My solitude
won't arise
from elusive
silence, only
multiples of white
noises shall supplant
the unknown absence.
Prepare these notes
as artists do
strokes on a painting,
each their own masterpiece for
the uninhibited mind,
deliver me
a melody, and abstain
the malady.

Grace will unfurl
to and from
when the blank that is
limbo besieges.
Remove all, allow
me to nurture my own
joys of rainfall,
sorrows of sunlight
so I may be spared
relentless storms, those
sandy blizzards,
for their pain
is mere
chaos.
D-Quinn Oct 2010
I've been told that love is acquired.
I've been told that time delivers it
through much more than mere desire.
Yet, no one can discern theory from fact
so I just sit back and crack a laugh.

I see love each time your electricity besieges me.
I feel love every time your gaze lingers on my face.
I know love as our hearts settle to a calculated race.
I find love in your fingertips, crossing my skin,
coaxing every inch of me frantically into havoc.
I feel it in the rush of frailty that your lips entice
and the flood of intensity that I strive to disguise.

I see love in those neglected eyes,
begging me to brush your skin,
craving a connection―
heart to heart and lips to lips.

I meet love in the frenzy released while bodies meet.
I find love when I find you surrendering,
engaging my gaze and securing me entirely.
I note love in your strength as it envelops me
and your breath that induces my body to sway,
to writhe in the passion that hauls our souls away.
I feel love each time I press my lips into your skin.
I see love in the morning as we open our eyes
and rest our admire upon each other,
measuring our intents within.

I know love in the flourish of emotion you evoke from me.
I have acquired love in the spark of your kiss
and the fire alive in your touch.

-1023'10
Aya Aug 2015
Hearing soothing lullabies,
whilst uttering fervent goodbyes.
One step closer to the ledge,
waves crashing beneath the ledge.

The ocean's enthralling tranquility,
renders an unyielding sense of solidity.
Its calmness besieges every single vein,
and deliberately permeates through my brain,

What you see beneath the ledge seems enchanting,
and a desolate voice down below is beseeching,
unceasingly lulling someone to come to his rescue.
Oh, perhaps this is my cue!

Rocks creaking, tides screeching,
Hearts wistfully shattering.
All she had in mind was jumping.
And then, time is suddenly frozen,
for the girl who was eternally broken.
Frank Ruland Nov 2014
"Amalgamations all askew"

Cosmoses once so close to home,
now locked away within a tomb
that we shy away in fear from.

"Things we only thought we knew"

Mathematics and semantics
could not create such frantic
leaps in logic, unlike our own antics.

"Are not as we realize"

Ancient mirrors upon our walls
defy all our cries and calls
to reflect anything at all.

"With blurred and bloodshot eyes"

Spent so long staring at the sun,
gibberish besieges our tongues
as we make sense of zeroes and ones.

"Stars we must take apart"

Lay our insides on the same slab
on which our eulogies we slapped,
and give discretion via dissection a stab.

"If we want to truly know"

If you've ever wished to understand
what you hold in heart and hand,
liberate the valor you were made to remand.

"What rises from the depths below"**

Inside the soul screams to be heard,
but you must rectify lines now blurred
and sanctify the stars you erred.
This may sound like gibberish, but this poem's about understanding yourself and the introspection required to realize our potential, and things that lie hidden at out core. Sometimes fear, doubt, and other people hinder us from unleashing the star we have locked away in ourselves, but we can't let any of this control us.
aurora kastanias Jun 2017
From my thoughts to my lips and in my veins,
I am sickly besotted with you. Without you
I’m in pain. I crave for you from dawn to dusk,
Finding relief only in my slumbers, when I dream
Of others, not of you.

For you don’t pertain to my hours of darkness,
There are limits to what you can give. When you sleep
With me I don’t, I fidget and tremble, toss and turn
In bed as you flow right through me provoking shivers.
I hence lie without you, longing to awake.

When I do rise to the morning beams penetrating
My windows overpoweringly, my mind gallops towards
You commanding my feet to follow, my eyes to find you.
You are there. You are always there. Faithfully waiting
For me where I left you.

Your loyalty besieges me and I surrender to the smell
Of your strong black hot body, yearning for you taste,
Gulping your exotic essence to the last drop, smoking
Cigarettes before, during and after our ritual *******.
I say I love you, they are worried I’m addicted to you.

The last time we accidentally drifted apart I was afraid.
Four days without you drove me insane, perennially drenched
In a cold sweat, devastated by stomach cramps and panic
Attacks, feeling ill beyond remedy. The doctor sentenced
I was suffering from withdrawal symptoms and I had to be

Strong. I ignored him and came running back to you
Promising I would never live you again, toying with
Your powdery texture slipping through my fingers,
Inebriated by your vapours as your liquid substance
Produces that oh-so-familiar gurgling noise.
Just in case it is not clear, this poem is about coffee!
Abdul Musa Jul 2018
Clearing clouds, color
blue breaking through
letting all my troubles
take a stroll
clearing my canvas clean
so that I can kick cans
of paint *** I can
paint pain or peace
or just let love colors
rain, create freedom
in my own bubble till it bursts
besieges bystanders
filling them full of care
common sense and community
we can all kick cans of paint of unity
Pete Bracey Aug 2019
Pub Melancholy

Ghosts of your memory haunt my heart,
My sorrow drip feeds a bitter taste tearing us apart,

Forbidden but not forgotten passion fuels the fire,
Conflicting confusion twisting my desire,

Dizzy feelings from the spinning wheel of unrest,
Absence determines the sour flavour of my torturous duress,

My mind melts into an eternal struggle with no heeling,
I’ve climbed loves mountain & found a numb feeling,

Standing on top of our enchanted world an ecstasy, a euphoria, a thought to behold,
Come down
Come down
I shall not be told!

For my love besieges my conscience with distraction,
A fatally happy relentless attraction,
The wind of my torment blows in resentment,
Teasing my thoughts through loves entrenchment,

“Closing time we’re shut mate!”
Andreas Simic Sep 2017
The Path©

Many a fore me hath taken this path
What path thou dost ask
Be it a trail of litany or blessed asunder
Thou shalt not know till the end

Amidst the daily trials and tribulations
The path maybe misty or unclear
Yet it is there
When thou allow your feet to feel its way

Erstwhile as we live our day lives
We are oblivious to thyme path
The path traversed by the many
The fools as well as the Einstein’s of the World

We all at some point are in denial of
Where the path will lead us
Not wanting to know what awaits us at its end
Yet there is absolute certainty that it is there

Whilst we plod along
It besieges us to take many routes
Detours that may prolong the journey
But in the end so does the path

Andreas Simic©
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.well, among all the other phobia contenders? the funny ones, even i sometimes succumb to an arachnophobia, the reflex reaction to an extremely large domestic spider... a slight ****, no rhetorical base... like: what the ****?! the simple beauty of an irrational fear, since a phobia is an irrational fear... but... islamophobia? what the **** is irrational about that? no one seems to talk about islamophilia - unless of course in the convert community of ginger ninjas from the York-shire, or some other Rotherham *******...

...and if you were to talk to any Urdu speaking
Pakistani?
    he'd tell you: i hate the Wahhabi movement...
perhaps in Saudi Arabia it is mainstream -
but outside of Saudi Arabia?
            just plain old hypocrisy - banning music,
but still singing an adhan...
          why not murmur the call to prayer
like a bunch of ******* Catholics at that point
in the mass, where the congregation almost
sounds satanic, murmuring the credo -
   the i believe in...
blah blah... go to a Polish Catholic mass...
   and wait for the moment when they start
their satanic murmuring of the credo -
          i just don't remember if it's after
    the body & blood transfiguration -
hmm... poetry in motion, hanging on a thread
of metaphor...
         but irrational fears are funny...
         it's not even: not all the spiders...
well, a baby spider is like a baby muslim....
       "just" some, some...
             whatever, tell that to the Manchester
matriarchs who lost their granddaughters...
         claustrophobia is a funny fear,
      agoraphobia, yet another,
      and the list goes on...
              it's funny not from the perspective
of mocking the individual,
      but the fear per se...
                         and if I really were islamophobic?
would i trust a Turkish barber to shave
a part of my neck, while he molded my beard
for the Istanbul look?
                      don't think so...
    but... concerning the Turks... esp. because
of their talented, absolutely top game
barbers...
                               the year is 1683...
and Louis XIV and Emperor Leopold are
playing courtesan chess over Spain
   and Portugal...
                  in comes the Ottoman empire,
and besieges Vienna...
         who bails out the Holy Roman Empire?
the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth -
with Jan III Sobieski at its head...
                   see... Poles have had many ruff
& tumble encounters with the Turks,
   after all, the Turks owned much of southern
Europe...
          now take that, and move this into
the current year...
     they're Muslims... but... WE SHARE
A COMMONALITY... A HISTORY...
   AN UNDERTAKING OF / FROM THE PAST,
translated into the current year,
   and subsequently the future...
              i already said once upon a time...
is it really "islamophobia" if i'd rather favor
Turks and the ****'ite?
           forget whether Islam is a religion of
"peace"... they're not perfect,
   did the ******* Sunnis forget that their religion,
like all others, is schismatic?
       there's your ******* perfect -
but you have to give them credit,
   on account that... well...
   Muhammad didn't keep his word to Ali...
and that the schism happened so fast...
     not at least 1000 years it took for
the East-West schism of 1054...
          bam-wham thank you Ahmed...
plus... if you look at it... no ****'ite terrorist...
only the ******* Sunnis...
            the Turks imploded on themselves...
that's why the grandmothers of Poland
prefer the imported Turkish tele novellas
over the Mexican ones...
          so... if you want to avoid the bumper sticker
of Islamophobe...
              (a) what is irrational about it,
        when it's not a quirky, irrational fear?
  (b) find yourself a Turkish barber.
Harrison Graves Jun 2019
The captain who knows
No quarter
Fires blindly
As his crewmates
Bawl and scream
As his orders reach no foe

Yet here is he
That which God punishes
Or perhaps man himself
As the waves crash
And hulls, too

Can we be saved
From his wrath
That O so besieges
What was once
A fair and laden battle?

He strikes the albatross
And its sailors
As his blood
Boils the water
That surrounds him
And his children, too

His hat means naught
To those he curses might
Even as he checks his compass
With a twitch so unsightly
That he blows a hymn
In regret

Thus tells the tale
Of a man so blind
So bold
So noble
That his aggression
Is both told
In grace and in seawater
That chokes the lives
Of those blackened
By his desires
1.
Memory blankets the past
in a neon green meadow
dappled with gray bits of matter.
They ooze and coalesce into a brain
brimming with unconscious narratives:
glottal globs clogging the gaps
of personal history. Tales of sound
and fury signifying nothing but the living self.

2.
The Transcendental Ego reigns over all,
smoothing the way for a unity of experience,
smoothing the way for a universe of sense.
I stroll alone through the empty patches
of meadow, waiting for Wordsworth's
daffodils to bloom. Waiting for poetry
to usurp the role of narrative, metaphor
crowned as the foundation of knowledge.

3.
The past besieges the present like Time''s
Trojan Horse, teeming with shadows. At their edges,
light lines the darkness. To try to remember now,
the tabula is a noirish rasa, staring back
through dull, heavy-lidded eyes. We see as we are seen.
Memory dances before a mirror, an image so close
to our touch, yet so far out of reach. Starved for imagery,
we strain toward the black. Only connect. Only connect.

— The End —