"deafens" poems
Creeping voices in the night
Shadows lurking out of sight
Haunt me till the morning's light
No sleeping for me tonight
Looking at my bedroom door
My feet barely touch the floor
Something whispers down my core
Something that I can't ignore
Melted candles in my hand
Things I would not understand
My hope slips away like sand
This was not what I had planned
Slowly walking down the stairs
Feel a breeze sweep through my hair
Shadows lurk; in silence stare
Naked thoughts are all I wear
Out of breath I walk outside
Shaking fear that builds inside
No more places left to hide
Guilty thoughts of mine collide
Drenched in coward's blood and fear
I lost those who I held dear
It's all blurred, nothing is clear
Shadows from my past appear
As the silence speaks to me
Gets too loud it deafens me
My past will not leave me be
Pain and torment I foresee
Dazed and drawn by these lost souls
Broken thoughts I can't control
Ghosts slip through this gaping hole
Darkness has taken its toll
From the darkness dreams come out
Nightmares flailing all about
Closing in, I hear them shout
It's the end, I have no doubt
"What the hell is it you want?"
They retreat and me they taunt
One emerges, tall and gaunt
"Your life we will no more haunt."
"You have paid for your wrongdoing,"
He tells me, his voice booming
"This is now your redeeming
You are free." he says smiling
I look at the rising sun
I no longer have to run
My sentence is served and done
The ghosts have finally gone.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
You can't save me
With you smoke veiled eyes
Filled with honesty and deceit
Your words
Falling like the ocean
Deafens me
With their beauty
In silence
And it's not enough
Those lines
About me
In the tattered notebook
My initials
On your skin
Tattooed
And scarred
Like the rain in the sky
With echoes
Like thunder
Following the sobs
You hide behind your calloused hands
Can't you ever
Show me the lightening
Because that's the only thing
I need to see
And the thunder
From me
Is all you need to hear
But my lightening
Is what you get to see
And you think it's everything
But how can everything
Last only a second?
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
one who basks in the soft heat of grandiose moonliness
growing fatter on honeyed imaginations
their sicklysweetness soaking through the pores
of countless generations
their minds invade a collective consciousness
burning arcs of inspiration – torches of the collective vision
in drilling through mutual experience
great gaping black holes of creation
effigies of super-egos, lynched on altars of desire
neon flames and disco lights, emotions on a massive pyre
maiden voyagers on never-ending cruise
sinking in foreign oceans – their endurance dupes
minor gods of destiny and fate they await
dionysian ****** of wine and food for thought
and hearts that beat in unison
a schizoid muttering that enlarges and deafens
manic pleasure that spins and spins
in eternal circles of pleasure and pain, loss and gain
opioid mists that dream a dream of everlasting name
an addiction an obsession that sumbits
to some masochistic drive
to empathize.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
06.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:55 AM UTC
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud
Two of us, alone, as one
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Known you.
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin
Your slender legs, columns that taught
The Greeks in Helens age, touched the water
And the sky. I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes
I hold your skin, my Selkie
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance
In the country of the sun
We end at the house in Umbria
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
God made us brown so we'd be hard
to spot upon his fertile soil,
to hide from the birds...which he made as well...
to cower, dodge, to postpone hell.
But slug does not hide, or flinch back.
His coat? Uncompromising BLACK.
He turns defence into attack.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God gave us shells to weigh us down.
Without them, we would HURTLE round,
so common sense suggests. Who'd beat us,
across a distance of ten metres?
But slug, dear slug, you have the grace
to not rub freedom in our face,
to slow your stride to match our pace.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
God made us quiet, thoughtful, wait.
He taught us manners, and restraint.
He taught us not to stay out late,
we're model garden citizens.
But slug, he DEAFENS when he speaks!
He goes out seven nights a week!
Beer-swilling, hard-living, party beast.
Oh slug – oh glorious slug.
I'd sell my soul to be like him.
Vacate my shell, and dye my skin.
I'd go twice weekly to the gym,
if doing so would let me in
to doors in town that say 'slugs only.'
But slug accepts no fake, no phony.
I'll love, but I will never be
a slug – oh glorious slug.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 5:12 AM UTC
Your light is beautiful,
and mine is glum.
In your eyes, I find
sensations my estranged blood
has never felt—
to touch, to love…
a soul unselfishly,
for no other reason than to love.
I want to place my frostbit hands
upon your beating chest
and ****** you away,
or might I chain your hands
and take you with me.
I could pull you into my gale,
a hostage of my lonely curiosity,
but I’m afraid—so afraid that your light
will fill the empty, gaping blackness,
and your gentle breaths
will calm my feral winds.
You alone will effortlessly transpose
the thunder of my bones,
and I will assent that only your nearness
can bring the calm to the eye of my storm.
But what follows when you
tire of breaking my weathers?
When your chains rust into reddish ash
and I can no longer keep you, my love?
I can’t imagine this place will ever be
as fair as it was with you,
and I can only foresee that
which will become of me.
For when the day does break,
and I find myself alone,
when the silence of your absent lungs
deafens my troubled mind,
my storm will surge again.
And as the black clouds surround,
I will bring my withered hands
before me and remove the foolish eyes
that once lost themselves in you.
So there are two sunken holes
inside my skull.
I will cut through my sternum
and rip my dour heart from my chest.
I will undress from my flesh
and pull the nerves you once caressed.
And my naked soul will dig a grave
and settle into the dark.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
{Chorus.} Come praise Colonus' horses, and come praise
The wine-dark of the wood's intricacies,
The nightingale that deafens daylight there,
If daylight ever visit where,
Unvisited by tempest or by sun,
Immortal ladies tread the ground
Dizzy with harmonious sound,
Semele's lad a gay companion.
And yonder in the gymnasts' garden thrives
The self-sown, self-begotten shape that gives
Athenian intellect its mastery,
Even the grey-leaved olive-tree
Miracle-bred out of the living stone;
Nor accident of peace nor war
Shall wither that old marvel, for
The great grey-eyed Athene stareS thereon.
Who comes into this countty, and has come
Where golden crocus and narcissus bloom,
Where the Great Mother, mourning for her daughter
And beauty-drunken by the water
Glittering among grey-leaved olive-trees,
Has plucked a flower and sung her loss;
Who finds abounding Cephisus
Has found the loveliest spectacle there is.
because this country has a pious mind
And so remembers that when all mankind
But trod the road, or splashed about the shore,
Poseidon gave it bit and oar,
Every Colonus lad or lass discourses
Of that oar and of that bit;
Summer and winter, day and night,
Of horses and horses of the sea, white horses.
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We are so far away from each other,
but something keeps us close.
Honey, we are not gonna last forever
and this isn't a joke.
Seeing your name flash makes my day
but can't you see that I am scared?
If I come any closer,
it would be a big mistake.
I know I made promises
and couldn't fulfill all of them
but darling you don't know
That my world is a complete mayhem.
If I come closer,
Will you welcome me in your trap?
The day I say forever,
Will you leave me and never come back?
The silence between us deafens me.
When I think about you,
something inside suffocates me.
I want you to look past this ugly body of mine.
Take my heart which beats for you,
and look me in the eye.
Can't look past the shame and guilt.
Deep down inside I know the chances are slim.
And I hate myself for not knowing that loving you was a sin.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:43 AM UTC
The silence it deafens me
with violence they threaten me
to carry me off to an asylum
unless I can provide them
with an ulterior motive
till I hand in my notice
relinquish the chains upon my bed
the fiendish brain inside my head
deviously plotting my own demise
take leave from this place to warmer tides
bathe my body beneath calmer skies
naked like the day I drew breath
naked as I stare upon death
one hand holding a crooked scythe
the other beckoning to me, my life
did you forget to count the die?
or forgo the countless lies
that made the Countess cry
neither man nor mystery could change her path
so it's left to me to rearrange the past
jigsaw pieces scattered upon my pillow
connecting dots to draw the willow
who could forget the weeping widow
that cried herself to sleep.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your eyes are hollowed out craters.
In the holes of which, buried deep, are the memories that you and I once shared,
some could say that we still share them,
it would be difficult for me to disagree.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your life hangs in the balance,
tipping ever so slightly into the unknown.
We share the same name
and although I have tried in vain to change mine,
it still sticks,
lingering on old tongues,
leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
you sit, waiting for whatever will come next,
you watch me with curious eyes, as if i know the answer to your questions,
and it pains me to tell you that I do not.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
we are a magnificent circus duo,
I, the ventriloquist and you my mindless drone,
or you the ventriloquist and I, all alone.
Our audience laugh at our shared torment and
I, I laugh as well at the situation we have created.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
and though we share the same name,
the same face,
I fear we are no longer the same.
You are a reflection of what used to be,
of what is now forgotten
and fading away,
as though you never existed in the first place.
And, I , I am the aftermath,
The desolation after an explosion,
I am the one who was left behind to pick up the pieces.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
I hold you close to my heart,
close enough that the pounding of my being deafens you,
and the shaking of my rib cage engulfs you.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
I tell myself that it is to protect you ,
but in reality I know that I am crushing you.
I hold you in the palm of my hand,
your eyes are hollowed out craters.
In the holes of which, buried deep, are the memories that you and I once shared.
But now you are gone and yet I still remain.
Those memories intact but not looking the same.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
If the work breaks your back,
then laying down shall be all the sweeter.
And if the noise deafens your ears,
then listen for what cannot be said.
If your skin grows raw from the sun,
make all your touches light and gentle.
If the food tastes of filth,
find joy instead in the fullness of your belly.
If the air is polluted with cigarettes and gas,
plant a flower to fill your nose with sweetness.
If you find yourself alone,
just focus on finding yourself first.
If you are unable to live for yourself,
live for others.
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
A thunderous silence deafens the night
until wild wolves’ melancholy melody
heralds the ebony darkness
born at the coming of the moon.
Trees are plunged into the void of nightfall,
the whispers of twilight awaken
as the presence of pale moonlight
pierces the wisps of solemn clouds.
The lunar light defies the darkness,
and melts into the dense mist
leaving silvery light hovering over the landscape,
banishing the decay of midnight’s umbra.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
A fool sits alone.
Not dumb but naïve
drinking ideals that were both sweet
and biting on the uvula of his thoughts-
thoughts that once resonated
from truth no longer ring true.
This terminus of sentiments that started veritable journeys
in the muck of questionable sources
housed his hopes
while he dared to dream of a day these hopes may be fulfilled.
But over hills and plains filled with grating winds
of inquiring eyes looking for lies so intently
while false truth slips through their gates,
these hopes gained grit.
Grit built in truth,
and to hazier eyes,
grit grained with wisdom.
So our fool finds himself at a
beginning wrought from this inverted journey,
He’s discovered his truths to be soggy
with the living mire of human deception.
No longer does he sit
with starry eyes
hoping for truth,
he has found it by traveling backwards
through experience until he stands upright
amongst the crawling with lies filling his head.
It is in this moment when all he sees is deceit,
that he knows he has found the truth.
No longer does he believe in it,
he understands how ill-fitting that word has come to be.
In the grand cacophony of the human experience,
the sterling ring of truth deafens.
It takes a qualified lie to reach our hearts.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
I need
Your smell
To fill
The air
That
Poisons me
I need
Your voice
To fill
The silence
That
Deafens me
I need
Your touch
To fill
The emptiness
That
Consumes me
I need
Your heart
To fill
The loneliness
That
Kills me
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
i lean against an oak tree in a glade
to watch apollo fall behind the hill,
the sunlight in the west begins to fade,
as evening closes in, a sudden chill.
the nightingale sings songs of yesterday
an arching song that lifts my spirits high,
the robin in the branches drills a lay,
as sunset breathes and reaches to the sky.
the sunlight falls in opal on the ground,
a song of heaven, darkness has no place,
the world is hushed with hardly any sound
and i can sense her passion and her grace
and still the sunlight drifting through the leaves,
holds back the last of day that darkness weaves.
that darkness weaves, that churlish empty sound,
which deafens moments reaching in their gold,
desire or dream, the chains that hold us bound,
the drowning spirit lifts and then is bold.
while nature rests her head upon the land
and bird song fills the avenues of trees,
her vision is ethereal and grand,
a haunting inspiration on the breeze.
i'll echo songs of summer centuries,
that mock and hint their ebony array,
the wind calls out like wild and distant seas
as through the peaceful glade the light of day,
that held its last soft breath of falling light,
in hollow sorrows dreams of quiet night.
the soul finds solace, time enough to rest,
the beauty of the earth is here to see
and where the light still lingers in the west,
i see a glimpse of sweet eternity.
so blindly now the day will sink and fall,
the light that holds the tenderness recedes
and my lost hopes their last enchantment call,
as that last glimpse of daylight leaves the meads.
while questions of the heart flow like a stream,
with tender echoed strings that fall so far,
as cheery revelations clear the dream,
of softly fallen evening's gentle star.
so with imagination’s dying spark
the day so leaves us here the tranquil dark.
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 10:19 AM UTC
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Known you.
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 1:05 PM UTC
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Known you.
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 4:32 PM UTC
I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.
Later, alone we dine in the Café
Campagne. Our conversation
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed
By your tears. I have always
Known you.
Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.
Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world. Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived
One hundred years this week.
It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.
At the great table we feast
With family and friends
And I am not alone with you.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
Vivid with love, eager for greater beauty
Out of the night we come
Into the corridor, brilliant and warm.
A metal door slides open,
And the lift receives us.
Swiftly, with sharp unswerving flight
The car shoots upward,
And the air, swirling and angry,
Howls like a hundred devils.
Past the maze of trim bronze doors,
Steadily we ascend.
I cling to you
Conscious of the chasm under us,
And a terrible whirring deafens my ears.
The flight is ended.
We pass thru a door leading onto the ledge—
Wind, night and space
Oh terrible height
Why have we sought you?
Oh bitter wind with icy invisible wings
Why do you beat us?
Why would you bear us away?
We look thru the miles of air,
The cold blue miles between us and the city,
Over the edge of eternity we look
On all the lights,
A thousand times more numerous than the stars;
Oh lines and loops of light in unwound chains
That mark for miles and miles
The vast black mazy cobweb of the streets;
Near us clusters and splashes of living gold
That change far off to bluish steel
Where the fragile lights on the Jersey shore
Tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew.
The strident noises of the city
Floating up to us
Are hallowed into whispers.
Ferries cross thru the darkness
Weaving a golden thread into the night,
Their whistles weird shadows of sound.
We feel the millions of humanity beneath us,—
The warm millions, moving under the roofs,
Consumed by their own desires;
Preparing food,
Sobbing alone in a garret,
With burning eyes bending over a needle,
Aimlessly reading the evening paper,
Dancing in the naked light of the café,
Laying out the dead,
Bringing a child to birth—
The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy
Come up to us
Like a cold fog wrapping us round.
Oh in a hundred years
Not one of these blood-warm bodies
But will be worthless as clay.
The anguish, the torpor, the toil
Will have passed to other millions
Consumed by the same desires.
Ages will come and go,
Darkness will blot the lights
And the tower will be laid on the earth.
The sea will remain
Black and unchanging,
The stars will look down
Brilliant and unconcerned.
Beloved,
Tho’ sorrow, futility, defeat
Surround us,
They cannot bear us down.
Here on the abyss of eternity
Love has crowned us
For a moment
Victors.
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This silence deafens me,
Surrounded by recurring faces,
In a room flooded with sound-
Yet I've never felt so alone
But I can't escape my mind,
Cannot run in the labyrinth of my soul;
Out of breath- yet so alive-
My imagination unleashed
into the ebony void of oblivion.
A key- no lock, a door- no handle,
Follow my footprints, I beg you please!
But they're invisible-
Washed away by the moonlit tide.
Painted masks, reflections and shadows
are all they see, yet why don't they realise?
I try to yell- and they're all listening,
Yet my scarlet voice fails to reach their ears.
Because no one can save me now- except myself.
And that's out of the question.
Read between the lines of an empty page-
Separated by slim yet strong walls of emotion,
This is my battle- of which I must fight.
I won't win, but what does that matter?
Stretched out empty hands
and the shards of a broken mirror,
The silent waters break my reflection.
And I have never looked more beautiful.
My pen has long since become hungry for ink-
Yet I still write
with the tears seeping from my eyes,
Long into the eternal night-
When the stars and I have drowned in the moons embrace.
And now, as the rain dances upon my window like piano keys,
I appear just as I should.
A swirl of ink. A jigsaw puzzle. Myself.
For my body does not own me,
Nor do I have the right to change it-
But still, I continue to do so.
For I need a slender frame. I need the scars.
But however much I long for them- they are out of my reach.
So no- I am not my body.
Merely a whisper of the wind,
An invisible footprint in the sand.
And my brain and my imagination
they merge together in a pallet of grey and rainbow,
Until all I have left to clasp onto
are the hands of time, and my steady heartbeat.
Two worlds collide- Enemies embrace.
Bridges collapse and tunnels cave in.
The impossible has been accomplished-
and I don't want it to stop.
What.
Have.
I.
Become?
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
I said a million simple things
That I loved about you
In the middle of October
Were you listening?
I gave my heart a pen
And let it write
A million simple things
That I felt about you
Were You Reading?
My fingers ran by themselves
A dose of cuteness here and there
Small, but apparent
Were You watching?
Simple replies speak volumes
And the absence speaks louder
What do I have to do to reach you?
What pervades my writing
That you won’t comment unless I ask?
Which lyrics speak to you and which don’t?
Should I send them, should I not?
It seems to make little difference.
Either way your silence deafens.
You want cuteness
But have little to say when I try to give it.
I don’t send these things, I don’t write these things for nothing
I do it for us.
An attempt
To intertwine us further.
To see what different pulses of my heart…
…Inspire different pulses of yours.
For your reaction, your passion.
But you often have too little to say
A million simple things
A song, a poem
Sent across the miles
To make me feel closer to you
If only, if only
You had
Even a hundred simple things to say about them.
If only, if only
I knew my heartbeat was heard
Sometimes the most important
Is a million simple things.
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 11:52 AM UTC
Silence screams its cries of pain
Realized only in the darkest corners
Flashes of electric blue bear witness
The crack shatters the silence
And deafens the pain...momentarily
Caught off guard, the tempest shifts
Whirling cyclone through smokey heart
Dust clouds of ancient barricades crumbling
The darkness grows to an eclipse
Quietly, patiently, time passes so slowly it seems to rewind
Footsteps softened, neigh, silenced by the thickening dust
It settles quickly, as mottled shades of gray
Begin replacing the true absence of light
Sliver by blinding sliver it penetrates
Searing, in it's obtrusive insistence
Piercing both heart and soul
Killing the blind peace
With hope disguised as fear
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC
Geraniums wilt into the bedrock
behind a treehouse the canyon knew.
The lanterns have extinguished.
Crow in the ****** overhead sifts
downward. Below the trundled dune,
poppy after poppy -- hidden in mantling dust --
deafens in its own rustle. Where
is the moon today? Where
does the sky end and wrap
inside its craters?
A caw splits the wind in a palm,
drives it through a lantern's smoke.
*We used to watch the lanterns wane
before calling it a night.
We used to put bees in jars
before pulling our blankets up.
We used to sing old gospel songs
before getting out of bed.*
I feel older than an ancient discipline,
I swear I was like this before I was born,
I'm trying to discredit my happiness,
but I'm as aimless as ever...
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 7:22 PM UTC
I look up at the skylight
Rain drops coalescing
The reflection of a few drops
Dancing on the wall
In the breeze
Which is more
A gale
Howling and loud
Outside
Destroying trees
Somewhere
A silvery strand of a cobweb
Dances and shimmers
In the pale sun
Playing hide and seek
The silence in my room
So loud
The thunder outside
So far
The daffodils on my windowsill
Have died and dried
Papery petals, a brilliant amber now
Green stalks greedily still drinking
While the petals thirst
The tops of the trees
Through my window
Freshly showered
Move like a woman
Dancing for her lover
Seducing
Shimmying
And yet
I think of Delhi
Desertlike and brown
Hostile and cruel
The dirt streaked faces
The shining eyes
Of the beggar children
At crossings
The eunuchs who bully
The traffic, the fumes
The noise that deafens
The rich women who flaunt
Diamonds and lovers
The clubs for the haves
The stares from the have-nots
And I come back
To the music of the rain
On the skylight
And the chirp of a bird
Somewhere far away
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
Corroding off in wreckless control
Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity
Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes
As we career off the road
Into a ravenous singularity
We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous
Quick to pardon
Whipped with a gold leash
Delicate, leaves, Celtic music
Rubik's cubes in our throats
We're ready to let love in, willing
Nova tech, drunk masks and indication
Indignation, we clutch, we fail
Partial to conditions
Stones out of focus
Accelerate
Engines bleed borders
You are the free way
Impotent with quartz remnants
Ruins to our fantasy
You hide history
Covered in my burrow
Braking until necks break & bags burst
Powdered hair, liquid lips
Let's drive home
Go beyond the limit
Break each others bones
And crush our entities
Suffocate on suffixes
Her explanation acquits the doubt
As we appear closer than we may actually be
Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility
Letting go of their concentrate
Gelatin mind
levitate into connection
Cups turned upside down
Entrapping ego in near vacuum
Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes
2 & a 4
Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere
Spinned on axis, ways to conduct
Your supply
Secede madness
Eternal order
Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty
Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery
Decision was never your thing
Unmoving at every turn
Passion with objects
Reactions flicker between humility
It gives gifts
Your skin melts to the touch
Chocolate in magma
Molten sound deafens drench
Jealous mess, dividend
Hugging and dripping black with stability
Back, holy scripture written with integration
Sealed with treachery, acetate photography
Capturing clear innocence
Boredom and sinfulness
Spiked militant
Pencil drawn neuroses, veil
Bow down to schematics, we're radar
Sonar structure solar
It's all part of the process
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC