"guileless" poems
Since Christmas they have lived with us,
Guileless and clear,
Oval soul-animals,
Taking up half the space,
Moving and rubbing on the silk
Invisible air drifts,
Giving a shriek and pop
When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling.
Yellow cathead, blue fish ----
Such queer moons we live with
Instead of dead furniture!
Straw mats, white walls
And these traveling
Globes of thin air, red, green,
Delighting
The heart like wishes or free
Peacocks blessing
Old ground with a feather
Beaten in starry metals.
Your small
Brother is making
His balloon squeak like a cat.
Seeming to see
A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it,
He bites,
Then sits
Back, fat jug
Contemplating a world clear as water.
A red
Shred in his little fist.
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first I smell myself.
the deep bass tonality of my musk,
hot, creamy, sweetness unique, of coffee and creamy,
my owned sweat oiled secretions massaged into her skin
emplaced by vigorous parts rubbing and tongue caressing,
under the fading shadows of my glancing, desirous admirings
then I smell herself.
sinking sunset glimpses of last nights parfume parfait,
scattered in random strategic locations architecturally planned,
some flavors come over me like modest waves,
others spelunking found in crevices, cracks and caves,
where humans tread in guileless search of guiltless pleasure
then I smell our sharings.
lemon and thyme, paprika, sea salt and pepper,
a basted rub laid upon animal skin consuming, and consumed,
the vinaigrette balsamic and California yellow raisins, pine nuts,
decorating leaves of red soil spinach and spicy arugula,
word salads, so miraculously ingenious, you swear off eating flesh
then I smell our combinations.
the air conditioned atmosphere that blends us properly chilled,
the olive oils pressed from two colored differing skins,
the mortal and pestle finely grinding our own fresh crumbled dirt,
appearing in places where dirt is wet panko crumbs encrusting us,
our combined liquidity, shaken and stirred, drying in martini tandem
it is 8:17am and this recipe of reciprocity,
at its most pungent peaking,
for soon raining waterfalls of potable city water
and the sophistry of French soap,
the pseudoscience of modern chemical shampoo,
together erasing, scrubbing away this poems aromatherapy tapestry,
your perplexed complexing nostrils will mock you once more,
for ever disbelieving, thinking you could no longer write of
only love poetry that crested high above the trite
Friday, March 29 2019
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:40 AM UTC
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, IN APRIL, 1786
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r,
Thou’s met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem:
To spare thee now is past my pow’r,
Thou bonie gem.
Alas! it’s no thy neebor sweet,
The bonie lark, companion meet,
Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet,
Wi’ spreckled breast!
When upward-springing, blithe, to greet
The purpling east.
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,
Scarce reared above the parent-earth
Thy tender form.
The flaunting flow’rs our gardens yield,
High shelt’ring woods and wa’s maun shield;
But thou, beneath the random bield
O’ clod or stane,
Adorns the histie stibble-field,
Unseen, alane.
There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawy ***** sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;
But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!
Such is the fate of artless Maid,
Sweet flow’ret of the rural shade!
By love’s simplicity betrayed,
And guileless trust,
Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
Low i’ the dust.
Such is the fate of simple Bard,
On Life’s rough ocean luckless starred!
Unskilful he to note the card
Of prudent lore,
Till billows rage, and gales blow hard,
And whelm him o’er!
Such fate to suffering worth is giv’n,
Who long with wants and woes has striv’n,
By human pride or cunning driv’n
To mis’ry’s brink,
Till wrenched of ev’ry stay but Heav’n,
He, ruined, sink!
Ev’n thou who mourn’st the Daisy’s fate,
That fate is thine -no distant date;
Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drives, elate,
Full on thy bloom,
Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight,
Shall be thy doom!
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Whoever disenchants
A single Human soul
By failure of irreverence
Is guilty of the whole.
As guileless as a Bird
As graphic as a star
Till the suggestion sinister
Things are not what they are—
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This poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled "किनारों का निश्छल प्रेम " published in anhadkriti (Dec. 2017) Can be read through the link ==>> https://bit.ly/2Ex69ip
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Only water streams of the river
meets in the Ocean
The banks of the river
never meets with each other
they always stand face to face
but do not come near
If one comes near sometimes
The other moves far and away
To maintain the Distance
It's not so, that they
do not want to meet
But if they will meet
The river will not stay
That too will become a pond
Its water will also rot
Its continuous flow will stop
To maintain the existence
Of the free flowing river
For welfare of living beings
For quenching their thirst
Its very very important
the banks should never meet
The truth is that they are one
even if they are not able to meet
What is life? Life is love
What is love, it's Sacrifice
Without sacrifice, love is lifeless
The banks have completely understood
the essence and decided their destiny
that they shall never ever meet
For the welfare of the world
Its essential, important and mandatory
Banks are disciplined
By their own self-discipline
If the river also follows discipline
Inspired by the discipline of banks
Its beauty gradually increases
Peoples bow and pray to the river
With great respect and devotion
But whenever water streams of river
Encroaches the boundary of the banks
they are criticized and reprimanded
As it betrays the love
betrays the sacrifice
betrays the benevolence of the banks
by completely forgetting and
tarnishing the efforts of banks
And Take away with them
Hundreds of homes
And finally earn disrespect
Well, the existence of the edges
is also because of the water stream
If the edges meet with each other
They will lose their own identity
So, this subtle concept needs to be
Understood clearly and deeply
'Devotion persists only uptill the
desires remain un-fulfilled'
If one is able to see the God
and gets his desire fulfilled, then
the devotee ceases to be a devotee
his devotion disappears immediately
and he often gets angry with God
So the Banks of river
always pray to god
'Our love should remain forever
But like parallel lines
We should never meet each other
Because of us the river must exist
Water streams must stay forever
And remain as a medium
for communicating our love
towards each other'
Such guileless love of the banks
Where else on earth can be seen?
God also salutes their true love
I wish their love should remain alive
It's not always like -
that the shores never meet
Yes, two banks of same river
Do not meet with each other
But a bank of a river
Sometimes manages to meet
with the bank of another river
Because in such case there is
absolutely no fear of
the water streams getting stagnant
The water stream of two rivers
joins with each other
and is called 'confluence'
Its importance increases
Its respect also increases
If one bank of first river meets
another bank of second river
then the second bank of the first river
never minds at all
and never ever gets sad
Its love remains constant as it was
unconditional and unbiased
Moment moment every moment
Second second every second
Let's bow before such
True and unconditional love
Hundred and Thousand Times
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC
_A monkey's wedding:_ our elders told us
it was, each time it rained with the sun out.
Pink skies, white clouds, golden tears and
the good times of being young.
Tree climbing to touch the sky as high,
fruit picking, and stone skipping at turbid puddles,
The smell of after rains, wet grounds, dew tear drops;
all at the nights condescending condensation.
Chasing rainbows on rumours of Peter pan's hidden
treasures at the end. As a guileless manner supposed.
Sunlight creeping through cracks of clouds,
the remainder of light showers, reminisced in the mud.
Sculptures we'd try our best to carve,
playing house outside, under the upcoming sun,
And trying our best at reciting parent's love.
Tell me have you seen anything as beautiful,
as the beauties after the rain?
Jul 15, 2022
Jul 15, 2022 at 4:57 PM UTC
Taste the sunlight
Wrap up in the golden thread
The 40 carat golden thread
That leaks like honey on your head
Feel the sunlight
Open up to gamma streams
The seeds of life in gamma streams
That donate such vivacious dreams
Be the sunlight
Buoy the dust motes with your smile
The guileless, butter-melting smile
Illuminating clouds a while
And linger amber in the light.
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Sprung, from beauteous filth,
The lies and gradation of the un wed saints
Hung, from gracious guilt,
The death and oration of the un sung and faint
Led, from grounded earth,
The soulless narration of the unloved taint
Believing is all when your all is a lie,
The smell of defeat in the blink of her eye,
The way you never fail to surprise the easily shockable,
Revealing that all was a lie of your life,
The decay of a scent from the skirt of the pile,
The path you never chose to really surmise the unreadable, uncollectable
Paid, to believe this girth,
The salt and salvation of unborn wealth,
Laid, the solution of all their faith,
The untouchable wrath and indignation of lifeless whelps,
Said, to ears that deceive all truth,
The unsinkable feeling you and your friends try not to avoid
Swaying in time to a common hope thief,
The guileless age and her sense of relief,
I thought i just told you to leave love at the door,
Poison and ruptured the stale old lies,
A night of betrayal and blood on these tiles,
Faithless, inauguration a purpose that you belie,
Lover, sweet mother, joker, and harpies with scales combine,
Hater, sweet undertaker, all is within, a touch to cold skin and a world you can't deny,
Believers, my underachievers, fornicate how to the march of the rain, a lifelong ambition that's driven in pain, a rusty disease that you spread with a knife, a guiltless decision made by his wife, a turning old format that withers and screams, a breathless recognition, we all fail to grin, just wait on the inkline to say what you want, I’m turning these covers and buying the bought, ******* the sweetness to boldly deny, that all these suspicions were aroused in the night, a turning, a quickening, a life on the rails, this one ****** mess i can't wash from my nails, so thorough, so clean, yet so impure it's not true, i tried to remake what i thought couldn't be you, but all indication now points to my spine, the tossing and yearning beneath valentine, i am the weather that spoils your day, please hold my ears as she screams my name.
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 4:48 PM UTC
I cry your mercy—pity—love!—aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmasked, and being seen—without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss,—those hands, those eyes divine,
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast,—
Yourself—your soul—in pity give me all,
Withhold no atom's atom or I die,
Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,
Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
Life's purposes,—the palate of my mind
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!
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Verbiage
Sagacious humans would concur
Salacious verbiage is trenchant
Verdant language withers a guileless soul
Hubristic linguists deem limpid oratory irksome
A Didactic, petulant, boorish, garrulous, nefarious, obtuse, and insolent
Overtone is not my intent
Puckish, risible, mannered, jocular, antic, and adroit
Reverberations I am manifesting
TRANSLATION
Words
Smart people would agree
Healthy words are sharp
Unripe words die naive spirits
Self-confident word users find simple language annoying
Moral instruction, rude, insensitivity, wordy, wicked, blunt, and contemptuous
Feelings are not my purpose
Impish (silly), laughable, artificial, playful, clownish, and clever
Reactions I'm hoping to create
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
for Thomas Raine Crowe
...These nights bring dreams of Cherokee shamans
whose names are bright verbs and impacted dark nouns,
whose memories are indictments of my pallid flesh...
and I hear, as from a great distance,
the cries tortured from their guileless lips, proclaiming
the nature of my mutation.
NOTE: My “mutation” is that my family appears to contain English, Scottish, German and Cherokee blood, meaning that my ancestors were probably at war with each other. Did my English ancestors force my Cherokee ancestors to walk the Trail of Tears?
I have recently created these new translations of Native American poems, proverbs and sayings ...
What is life?
The flash of a firefly.
The breath of a winter buffalo.
The shadow scooting across the grass that vanishes with sunset.
—Blackfoot saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
Speak less thunder, wield more lightning. — Apache proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The more we wonder, the more we understand. — Arapaho proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Adults talk, children whine. — Blackfoot proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Don’t be afraid to cry: it will lessen your sorrow. — Hopi proverb
One foot in the boat, one foot in the canoe, and you end up in the river. — Tuscarora proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Our enemy's weakness increases our strength. — Cherokee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
We will be remembered tomorrow by the tracks we leave today. — Dakota proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
No sound's as eloquent as a rattlesnake's tail. — Navajo saying, translation by Michael R. Burch
The heart is our first teacher. — Cheyenne proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Dreams beget success. — Maricopa proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Knowledge interprets the past, wisdom foresees the future. — Lumbee proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
The troublemaker's way is thorny. — Umpqua proverb, translation by Michael R. Burch
Feb 22, 2020
Feb 22, 2020 at 6:33 AM UTC
How could this have happened?
Life took its time and tortured me.
Taunting, malicious, evil.
I lived a melancholy life.
The people weren’t enough.
I desired more.
I desired love.
I desired my other half.
Just when I thought I was forever alone,
Unexpectedly, he appeared.
He cared, gave me his everything.
He took his time with me.
I should’ve recognized the foreboding.
We all want happiness, no one wants pain,
But we can’t have a rainbow without a little rain.
Even then, rainbows don’t last forever.
Life,
You’re wicked.
You want to hurt me.
When I wanted to pick a fight, You started running.
You don’t care about me.
You don’t care about young love.
Ripping my heart out.
Tearing apart his.
When someone thinks of you, life,
They think of you being balanced.
A sprinkle of unfairness,
A sprinkle of happiness.
You surprised all the guileless ones
You are judicious; an ill-humored dowdy.
Maybe you’re just a querulous old women,
Tired of ignorant pests.
Or maybe you were just born with a blackened heart.
But, now when I ask you for a reason why,
You curl up in a ball, roll away and let me cry.
What a coward.
Conniving little *****
What comes around goes around,
You’ll get your share,
Three times worse.
Think you’re so contumacious?
What is it?
You desired more?
You desired love?
You desired someone else?
Are you jealous?
Don’t be tremulous about the topic.
Something will happen to you…
Your soul mate awaits you,
But for now,
Please, be kind to me.
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 4:01 AM UTC
This is the shorter edited version of our story. It tells you the facts, but it doesn't tell you the why. It leaves a lot of blanks that you can fill in, so it could be about your own highschool experience. If you want to know our story, read the unedited version.
There were five of us.
Freshman who grew up to be seniors
There was the oldest, the skinny one
He was tall and awkward
He was so quiet and shy
He only texted
He was uncorrupted
He was a lover
Then there was the Latino
Amazing athletic talent
A great friend
Funny as hell
Romantic and gentle
Loyal and patient
Next came the little one
Obedient and but passionate
Younger than everyone
Guileless and enchanting
In love with the latino
The most bendable, changeable one
Also there was the clown
Everyone’s friend, no one’s best friend
Wannabe family man
Strangely perceptive
Always smiling
Ladies’ man
And then there was me.
Full of surprises
Loud, rebellious, crazy
Fearless, childish
Independent and devoted
Steady and never-changing, slightly judgmental
That was us.
We were all connected, but also independent
The boys fought
Mostly over the little one
Then we fell apart.
We’re almost unrecognizable
The tall one, the oldest
Got his first girlfriend
He befriended so many girls
But secretly was dreaming of the little one
He’s leading his brother
And he doesn’t even know it
The latino is mostly the same
He doesn’t fight as much
But he never got over the little one
Now he just gets admirers
He’ll grow out of high school
He already knows how to do life
The little one got so lost along the way
But I decided to stick around cuz she’s my best friend
She’s already taking college classes
She’s working with children
Now she’s planning her life
But she doesn’t seem happy
The clown found himself friendless
He made a lot of dumb mistakes
He still hangs around
He parties and smokes
To hell with being good
At least he’s accepted his fate
And I’m lost too
I don’t party or drink or smoke or have ***
But I’m losing my religion
Bad things have happened to me
I’m no better than my friends
I’m sad I’m no longer special
And so we’re lost
Some are on the mend
But we made it through high school
We got so messed up along the way though
I drive home listening to Queen
The clown showed me that one song
And I cry because we are the champions
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
The not me is blind
He can’t see past the illiteracy swamp
The not me is deaf
He can’t ear harmony in humankind
The not me is dumb
He oppresses and repress
The not me has no smell
He bargain and sell and swell
The not me has his hands clasped and tied
He’s guide to be a guileless tool
The not me are gray
They’re simply fuel
Dead corpses to play
Deny thyself
Untangle your eyes
Cease to be a machine
And become the self
I mean, let go of
Prejudice and conventions
And dogmas of society
Let yourself be carried by the self
Let go of thy dimension
Stable and confortable
Those made up dreams
Provide sense to existence
The self lives
Sees past unreal reality
Ears past instilled dreams
Lastly tastes the liberality
Lastly irradiates beams out
Of instilled tune
Lastly he flies from the cocoon
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 2:20 PM UTC
Looking through the window
There
A maadatha
A kulakozhi
You narrate
The maadatha
Trails
In the silhouette of
The kulakozhi
The kulakozhi is swift
The maadatha callow
Unable to reach
Anywhere near
The kulakozhi flees
Abandoning
The maadatha
Poor maadatha
You narrate.
How unkind
Can a kulakozhi get?
Tell tales
And then
I saw the picture
In the window square
In my picture
It was the maadatha
Who flew away
Must have had
Enormous wings!
The guileless Kulakozhi
There it is
Hiding behind that wild bush
Terrified
You,
Beside the window
Me,
Behind the bush here
Janus faced
Anguish
With wings
And without.
Translation : Shyma . P
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
Golden flash on wing in flight
Fleeting vision, yet so bright
Soaring high, called from above
Beauty is your gift of love
Liquid calling, tumbling down
Bobbing heads, with red on crown
Guileless Charm of birds, behold!
Caps of red and wings of gold.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 11:55 AM UTC
I won't accept the end
Gently or gracefuly,
But begrudgingly,
In private anguish:
That is truth;
Unadorned,
And sure.
I've not dealt with the vanish
Of comrades in battle;
Or happened upon
A loved one
At the end of the rope.
I've felt the tug,
The smell of CO,
The hardness beneath
The Bluewater Bridge;
The bottle, blade and pill
On the frozen faces of friends,
On family:
Michael, Marlene, Jimmy, Eucheria.
The family innocents
Whisked off
In the maelstrom of bounding youth.
*But you must know your father lost a father,
That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound
In filial obligation for some time..*
Claudius speaks the cold hard truth,
But Claudius was childless;
Such guileless advice.
And Shakespeare's kids were playing
In the yard
As he penned his tragedy.
But,
Bury a child
And have an eternal membership
In the
****** for Life Club.*
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Spirit is a unified field
infinite
in a state of perpetual expansion
seamless bliss
beyond the slings and arrows of creations drama
pain and pleasure
disappointment and gratifications
we live
in the
zim zum
A cauldron
hollowed out
of the the self effulgent light
the source
formless
the theater of creation
a dark space of dynamic geometry
of fractious binary forces
a merciless churn
an atrocity for the evolution of individuation
pistons in motion
a cacophonous feng shui
a tangle of webs
a grand illusion
of energetics
kamikaze planets
hideous cruelties and voluptuous pleasures
a swarm of form
hydras in heat
countless lights casting inestimable shadows
a war between heaven
absolute order
and hell
absolute chaos
our lives
a medium
for the gods of struggle
until our heads a stone
the exit door
is pure spirit
spiritus...breath
breathing made conscious
the big hush
the royal yoga
waiting for the guileless
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
Children can be so forgiving
even when they've been
hurt again and again
But adults can build protection
about themselves
like a a suit of armor made of steel
Their distrust and disillusionment
becomes their impenetrable fortress
How I wish to see the world again
through childlike eyes
To not be jaded
To not be cynical
To not be tainted by hatred
It is said that to inherit
the kingdom of heaven
one has to become like
a little child
Perhaps it is because
they fully believe
and fully accept
and fully forgive
and fully love
with guileless hearts
as we all were meant to do
in this world
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
YOU ARE:
Boorish and bellicose
Calamitous and caustic
Defamatory and dowdy
Garrulous and guileless
Insolent and irksome
Are you busy tonight?
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
After the dark shall cometh the light
Exploded into by man’s devilish slight
To ruin the land and dominate all
The Earth falls into a deathly pall.
Sides will get taken along the way
The poor of learning will never get a say
The rich and clever will make the rules
History shows the poor are their tools.
A poor woman begs for work or bread
Her very rich neighbour kicks her in the head
And laws are passed to keep them down
And hidden from view on behalf of the crown.
Arguments start and war then breaks out
That guileless citizens know nothing about
But involved they become as their faith is then tested
Forced into arms for the thoughts they've invested.
Only a minority will claim they’re the proudest
But they have the guns and their voice is the loudest
We get swept along and get hurt on the way
Young children in war games with no time for play.
After the dark shall cometh the light
Exploded into by man’s devilish slight
He ruins the land and dominates all
As Earth waits to fall into it’s deathly pall.
©Joe Wilson – The inhumanity of it all… 2014
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
I hide behind a guileless face; shameful.
I can't stand to see what lies inside.
You dredge up everything I've kept buried away.
All my secrets, my fears, my shattered dreams.
I'm always caught between the anger and apathy.
What is it that you want from me?
You, with your faithless eyes and ***** lies.
Forever building me up just to watch me fall,
Giving me everything, only to ****** it away.
At the end of the day, you're no savior.
But I refuse to break.
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
How can I love thee,
if thou art my enemy?
How can I love thee,
if thou art my agony?
I fancy my love is futile
I's lost in thee in one blink of the eye
'Twas a dull day with a tempest worried and grey
No charm as splendid as the salubrious May
Vanished worlds are real to me today
How can I love thee,
whilst I shine but wither in despair?
How can I love thee,
when the mist replaces the air?
O, I can't see thy face, o no!
I'm trapped in this ghastly limbo
I look askance at the angered sky
My voice is coarse my heart's empty
My songs are shy my chest is dry
How can I love thee,
with this guileless but wondrous intimation!
Heavens are our first but final destination
where love is a gift and a token of affection
How ill I am!
Wronged by my own love and longing
Whilst the grass is green and
the stars are twinkling
This bitter cold is my weeping
O promises! Why did thou fail my soul?
Thy tongue does but smell of foul
Kneel by me, I entreat!
You little lie that could only cheat!
O resentment! How sleepy is thy mind!
Now I the master demand, awake!
Yet show thy patience, relieve me from behind
Forget me not, for the world's sake!
O laughter! In thy severe idiocy
Rise from thy unsmart repose!
Retrace thy steps, enslave thy feet!
Bid yourself go; and find but a better, brighter rose!
Slaughter yourself, o infatuation,
I thy master insist, decay!
Set my grim heart in awesome daylight
Send my frosted feet onto liberation!
Flowers of the devil, flowers of laudation.
I believe in praise and its own strange admiration.
Yet my roams are no longer of importance;
but heave my senses from assault,
kiss, kiss myself away!
Still, my heart tastes like ******
in its misery and pangs of silenced desperation.
O words, hinder me from the joy of anger,
defeat my thirst for blinded and serene assassination!
The gentle cry, the loss of hope
rings all over but shields us in vain:
As pale as the yellow falling rain to
heal my wounds, cure my lonely pain
This mounds of hate should remain;
Until my stern heart melts to love again.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
Raise me up, atop the river of oceans,
And baptize me under the wings of the stars;
Soak me in the still waters
Of boundless transience,
And bathe me in the blood of the waning moon.
Raise me up, above this bed of earth
And make me drift above the pillow-like clouds
That trail the skies of black and blue,
And wait for them to fade,
Just as the darkness will,
When the day runs its course.
Raise me up, above the chains of time,
And drop me on the face of everlasting feeling,
Of infinite tides that crash upon the shores
Of fading memories, of translucent pasts,
And let me drink the water filled with
Certainty and guileless candor, pray
That I'll remain here forever,
That the beach I lay atop won't
Clump and fall and sway and tumble
Into the empty pits of
Forgotten promises and unsaid words.
Raise me up, against my will,
Above the plains of grass and roses
Of black and red, steal me away
And tap my eyes with the lucid
Dreams of my seething impermanence,
And sting me with the daggers of
Regret and redemption, of
Begging to remain for just another moment.
Raise me up, and let me soar
Atop the summit of banished wishes,
And let me cast my body away, let it
Fumble down the rocks and pebbles and boulders
On the slopes of passing instants,
But let me, my unbreakable soul,
Stay right there, frozen in the midst of
Feeble remembrances and sprinting clocks,
And let me know, just this once,
That I haven't lived until I've been lost.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC