O, why but I am like t'is! Hath I, since t'at last sober night,
as th' wan, dull clouds crept nearby, been bequeathing
tragic, credulous insecurity to myself. Like t'at frail moonbeam
disturbed by starless rain! And a turbulent voyage
didst I take, alongst my dreary sleep, into th' grounds
of scythed lands-full of horror, nightmarish leaps,
and dire-some terrors. Why didst I do so! I hath come, to comprehend
not, why t'is turbulence of brave grossness seemeth like nothing else
but perniciously irredeemable, as though I accidentally, or even
consecutively-inflicted it, without the wakeful knowingst
of my brains. Indecipherable! T'is vacant delirium of mockery, and its abysmal hearth
inside-set alight by invisible flames-torches of hell, and gruesome
shrugs of untimely malevolence. Insatiable deployment, indeed! How
miraculous it would be, should I be free from t'is inconvenience
in th' course of some upcoming days, but still, doth I hope so!
Waggish remarks, jests, and playful turns of ancient riddling-
areth but exchanged outside, with airs so snobbish, from t'ose
pampered youngeth dames, blind to t'eir silenced world's grievous
suffering, and laborous perspiration. How unfair t'eir fiendish hearts areth-
once and againeth-sneering at th' pure, stoical beds of t'ose airy rivers,
andth t'eir dim solitude, with t'ose rings of presumptuous laughter!
Spaciousness in its holy sphere, untouched by th' turmoil t'at lingers on it
surface, neither driven away nor shaken by ungratefulness. Toil
improperly apprehended! And insulted as it might become, tenderness
shalt it leave behind, insolence but be crafted along th' insidious rims
of its face. Marvelous in wild ways! Wild, devilish ways! And unwatched
by th' stomping blokes on its visage, shalt it rise, rise like an unforgiving
tidal wave, soulless in its aliveness, blighting and scratching
t'eir shoulders, with blades unmarred-dormant powers t'at ought not
to be ignored by seconds t'at feebly tick away. And t'eir ends
shalt 'ey meet, granted liberally by t'eir
deliberate neglect, and repulsive indulgence.

In th' nothingness of aggravation I am but naturally not a hard-hearted creature,
too of a stony appearance I possess not-intimate and even, t'at should be how
my being is paraphrased mercifully! With t'ose perpetual-and even limitless-
replenishing jewels of ardour, flawed only by harmless faults, I would consider myself treasured
by nature, o t'at precious creature whom hath so adorably vouchsafed t'is
spring-like life to me; warmth can I gratefully feel in t'is winter every day,
in my prayers, studies, and amongst t'ose invigorating fits
of my daily perambulations. How truthful, aye t'is confession is made! As I am
but a pious, sanctified child, ye' in spite of being a humaneth as I am, a snake is bound
to dwell within my *****, asleep in its quiet slumbers, unawakened so long
as I unbetray my redolent virtues.
But last night! How nigh my soul from t'at anxious burst of agitation,
melancholiness so undesired but abruptly avenged my silence. My indulgent
silence! Th' one frame of my unresting mind t'at I so fastidiously preserved!
Hatred encountered my countenance, and bifurcated my ******
dispositions; flew into anger then I-so sudden as gripped my soul was
by paths of hostility sent onto me-overwhelmed by t'is ineloquent treatment,
howled in despair, and agony was all I felt within my cheerless heart-
until everything amounted into a blurry shadow-insignificant as it was,
but th' fraud was still t'ere-stupefying desire, so ardent within th' leaves
of my conscience, to slaughter even th' most innocent skins-
'till no more breath t'ey shalt but gasp for. And triumph shalt I procure,
ascendancy shalt be painted onto my palms, and opulent pride shalt I be
endowed with, so unlike all t'is hateful remorse, and slithering chastisement!
Amongst t'ose seas of disillusionment; whilst frowning in desperation-combusting
all t'ose wretched spirits wert all I wasth but able to think of;
and all I conjectured wert proven worthy of my thoughts. Inevitable! Entrenched
was its root-t'is flourishing tiny devil on my inner self, as it is-'till th' morning but
retreated and vanquished t'is gust of little hell, which had decoyed me
and my lithe genuineness like a trivial shell.

O dear! My flawless prince, hath thou but thoroughly gone from me?
Still, a painting of thy kiss roam silently th' rooms of my heart. Now scanty
as to emptiness, roaring fussily as to loneliness, for thy being unhere!
Distorted hath been now its breaths-adored only by groans
of misery-like caprices t'at laid unwanted, abhorred by t'eir masters-
for t'eir yesterday's pricelessness, and valuable crowns! How ungrateful masters,
my dear! And how t'eir proceedings shalt recall
t'ose pristine shines, yes, my dear, (of my golden gems) t'at areth gone,
with unsounding returns t'at are unexplainable, and too unattainable-
and shalt remain dim be t'eir whereabouts, amongst t'ese winds
of fervent, but sultry days. O, come back, my love, come back to my arms,
and hate me not, for my threads are woven alongst thy charms-
ah, t'ose threads of life, of soulfulness, and unabashed mortality!
Clashes of feelings, emotions, and mutual usurpation
of endless infatuation. Chaste, and unimpure, passion! Yes, yes, my love-
t'at's how we ou't 'a be, next to t' fireside, lulling each ot'er to sleep,
and welcoming t'ose night dreams with hearts so dear, lullabies
so near to our ears, of t'at unwavering breaths of passion, and unchangeable
affection, for th' rest of our lives! Leave me not-once more, but stay hereth
with me, and make me forgive
and forget cheerethfully t'is seditious, thoughtless, but most of all
irresolute conflagration.

Days pass, my love, and I'm afraid of t'ese feelings,
Which at first startled and surprised me,
Solidified but threatened me,
Hastened my heartbeat-and lingered stubbornly, at my wit.

I was treading down in my stilettos;
And all, today, had been silent hitherto-
Whenst I but caught about thee;
More charming than the breezy day itself, and more free.

Ah, thee! How I longest to silence thee forever,
Thee to whom delights my shelter;
Thee to whom every lie shalt be truth,
and to whom all dreary ages shalt be youth.

How I longest to ****** thee;
to strangle and behead thee,
so that thou shalt no more haunt me-
just like these feelings that twitch, and dazzle me-
forever and ever; like a bewitching, yet sadistic misery.

Shalt I hate them, my love?
Shalt I depict but mock all them?
Ah, tease me-o, tease me, my love!
Catch me about those rippling grass,
Which like a bucket of green water,
Bloom and flirt with the startled bush in mass,
before autumn greets, and their brightness shalt alter.

Alter to falseness, and die in paleness;
Before they scramble up again in vain,
And retreat to my dreams like a dizzy villain;
In a wail of discord, and its lake of cold madness.

Ah! They hate me! And whenst thou seest not,
They seethe at me, they floweth in my brain;
they corrupt me vilely, and ruineth my restraint;
And my loving heart shalt they never defend,
for instead of hate, they grant it love;
and tempt it to kiss-t'is tiny heirloom of mine-
of thy picture, all repeatedly; over and over again.

Ah, thee, to whom my heart shalt only be a burden;
to whom the bleakest of winds only bounces, and goes;
to whom that this earth seems to have no throes-
Just like all those ****** birds who chirp about in yon garden.

Oh, thee, who looketh pristine in whichever garment,
and looketh still a darling atop whatever mute soil,
but safely comeliest amongst t'is Thursday night's infallible moonlight;
and altogether stirring to every glance-whilst inviting to each lurking sight.

Ah, thee, whose heart still, that lucky lady possesses,
and whose smiles she salutes and gladly welcomes;
I wonder whether thou shalt ever know how my heart is obsessed-
and that how thy love for her is my karma, my devil,
and the most undesirable-yet resentful, total sham!
Oh, for the gracious is ungracious indeed, in her eyes,
and peace is but to her a mere tempest of fights;
for to her, immortal are her shallow rights,
And eternal are her breaths, and thus, her tidiest lies.
I hope she shalt be soon swallowed into this earth,
and bludgeoned to death, within its eternal, whining hearth.
She shalt be sent to Hell, for all her discordant sins,
poor creature, as poor she was, whenst alive-to her kin.
But still poorer, poorer me who adoreth thee like this,
Who forever longs to taste thy sweet breaths-and kisses,
I am like an infant who seeks to walk and drink of the stars;
Without knowing the sky is indeed boundless, and strenuously far.
I am who never grows, but stupidly screams, and urges for the most
I, myself, who shall always be strangely desolate, and lost.
Ah, t'is poor self of mine! For canst I only dreamest, and seekest, and whine
Whilst her hair is in thy arms, smelling like sweet-and dreamless sleep,
Buried deep in thy charms, with her heart engaged in thine,
And unawakened by the night, as to one delight so deep.
I am envious, envious, envious-and for thy know, t'is envy is perilous,
and should I die, my spirit wouldst remain awake, and forever curious.
I shalt be wand'ring voicelessly like a fishy ghost,
Be unseen foliage in autumn, and be winter's plodded frost,
I shalt be confined in my own confinement,
and flustered away, in my own unblessed, refinement.

Yet still, nothing is more stately than my feelings;
and this picture of thee-ah, as always, solemn and so honoured in my arms.
Ah, thee, let me invite thee here-and show thee how tears are in fact, the truest charms;
and how pains are undeniably our breath-though faked, and dried away-
by unceremonious adoration and hate-
but still alive like we are, among th' very livings.

Ah, and so my feelings are dangerous-
for they have no soul; are bound not by wings.
As thou smileth to me-they smile not, but groweth serious-
and their seriousness, in return, bringst not one single uttering.
My thee, my thee, but if thou art not my fate,
how couldst I call thee always, my salvation?
In my heart thou art not merely my mate;
thou art worth all my warmth, regrets, and thus holiest temptation.
How am I to procure advancements, my sweet lad-
Should we hath been 'lone, had we never met?

With thee I hath been in love,
and for whom my feelings are tough.
Still I believe loyalty is in thee,
and honour in me-is whenst I loveth thee only.
My thee!
O-my thee, by whom these long-living trepidations
shalt no more be meaningful,
as how all other's admirations
shalt become unfelt, and sorrowful.

Feelings, feelings, o my incarcerated feelings
My tears are thy soul; that shape and form thy whole
To live and love whilst these flames are strong,
to whose lips only, I am insane-but clearly belong.

Du warst meine kleine Aufklaerung
Obwohl ich noch lange nicht erwacht bleibe
Ohne dich fuehle ich die Waende
Und dreh mich den Kopf im Kreis
Bevor dich war der Horizont leer
Jetzt *******er unfassbar, so wie die Erinnerung an dir
Und alles ist ok so, weil man sehnt immer nach
Unmoegliches
Unmoegliches bist du
Ich werde immer besessen davon
Besessen von dir


[You were my small Enlightenment
Although I long since remain unawakened
Without you I feel the walls
And turn my head in a circle
Before you was the horizon empty
Now it appears intangible, like the memory of you
And everything is ok this way, because one always longs for the impossible
You are the impossible
With which I will always be obsessed
Obsessed with you]

There's a cold Creole cry
that steeps from the underside of the moss
those thick recesses where, the water bridges tight to the banks
and even when the haunting moon fades upon its shades
there is always a cast of eerie chills that invade the frame.
The long lonely, half depressed, half unawakened  strolls
that never quite lead anywhere, yet always ends by the bank
where the water calls, these deep muddy swamps
that awaits in the hopes of a lost soul to enter
to step beyond the boundaries.
There is stew in these waters
a thick haze that fills and the scent it leaves
clings always upon the clothes, hugs so tight the breath, that
no matter how far one strays, it always calls one back.
Trees that have no roots, skeletons cloaked
hinged in the thick ivy moss that scatters from limb to limb
The cries, urgent, fearful, that echoes through the thick undergrowth
gathering in Voodoo curses the humid air to dance, dance
where the imagination clings and hides, Yet! Dares to know more.
It is a long walk, one, that time cannot gather nor hold
where the fields seem surreal to the charged air
and the night falls like lotus blossoms upon the water
to float away where tides to the Delta stray.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph

The Moon and the Stars*

It all started one night under the stars.

Lying in the field on the clearest yet brisk last nights of summer's warm-held grasp. Telescope, blankets, friends and stars. We watched and waited as satellites and planes flew overhead; deciphering shooting star from orbital waste, relearning and recalling constellations recognized throughout man's lifelong past. Gazing into the wide open of the unknown with thoughts of extra-terrestrial, black holes, and the possibility of life after death.

The darker the night the more magic seemed to exist. After wrapping up our outdoor viewing of the universe, we headed indoors for peaceful sessions of passing the pipe while listening to shamanic throat singing and overtones, as our friends sat *gravely entranced, zoning out to the wonders of the world covered by media through National Geographic and the world-wide-web.

It was somewhere a midst all this where I find myself; body calm and mind relaxed, propped up on the couch pondering the innermost immortal thoughts of the interconnectedness of life and death and sound and energy, spirit and soul as visions of spirals infinitely intertwining as one appear before my eyes. The sensations of what I imagine the reference of “getting the gears rolling” in the center of my brain as my pineal gland begins its first steps of decalcification brought about by the intentions of man.

Up until this point my life was on a one track path. A steady straight line towards the unknown, unawakened, and ignorantly naive, believing everything I had been taught up until that moment was a true solid fact. With this new sensation of the potential for higher vibrations within my own soul, my heart began to rapidly race but without pain and suffering, rather with the excitement of this new realized grace.

Awakening to this new idea, to this new age, to this *new way of life.

Erstwhile, the morning came a new.  
Yet you, in your self imposed blindness,
failed to see the brilliance of the sunrise.
This being the lessor of two tragedies,
as the light within you, both brighter
and eternal remains equally unnoticed.

All the faces
have been shattered
like worn out masks
Call an angel and nay
many un-awakened
would stand aloof

comfort was a long road that came to a dead
end abruptly. happiness and companionship
left suddenly with the clutch of solace. he
was left standing there in the rain, all senses
disdained. a seeing man now build to ease,
seeing the fellowship of someone that ties
knots in your throat; turns your obscurities
to seize.


                                  distraught



at this very moment the quest for clenches
to console surrounded him with the ignorance
his state of mind was unable to control.
seeking and searching began in the
bedsheets. he found loneliness and
regret; mistake after mistake, temporary impassion
chose what risks to take. drowning in seas of
duvets, suffocation on the stench of
frictioned flesh and smothered in the salinity
pasted on each others skin like the warpaint of
ephemeral happiness, he searched down an
unsearchable road and lost his direction in the
*******; forever ringing his ears with regret. each kiss
down his neck, each bite to his lip, each face-blanketing
exhale, he repents with the ignorance of finding the
will to live and love between the legs of someone who
feels the same way. the crimson crevices carved in his back
drip with remorse and sullen; hoping for once to life the
bedsheets and find an unawakened bundle of coiffure
and serenity and not calamities of regret and ****** suicide

One fly-
two wings-
flies NO-where!

There seems to be something in this world
That is not seen by the unawakened beings
Who only wander around in ignorance and are
Always mainly striving to earn their daily living.

They have yet to discipline themselves for
Their ultimate destination and to receive
Some special training to eventually see
That which is always there to be witnessed.

It is said to be of the utmost importance
For one to meet and come under the guidance
Of a person who has traversed the way and
Knows from experience how to take others there.

There is some preparation to be undergone
By anyone who aspires to get there one day
And that they should follow the instruction
Of the person who is willing to guide them.

It is also said that: 'when the student is ready,
The teacher appears' and that: 'there is in this
World a time and a place for everything'.
Who really knows what the future will bring?

When the time is nigh and all is in hand
Consider your position where do you stand?
Make the move and leave the rest unto him  
Then it will be his duty to teach you to swim.

The relationship of the true teacher and
The real student is eternal and binding
They say that it is sacred and a test of
Faith, devotion, love and understanding.

There are many obstacles along the way
All are founded in ignorance and illusion
As the fickle mind is still holding sway;
The teacher helps to remove the confusion.

Do not worry, be anxious or faint hearted
For he knows your journey has just started
He will guide, protect and see you through
To that special place you're destined to.

He's the light of wisdom the ocean of love
Power of grace flows through him from above
Adhere to him and where his feet have trod
He's not an ordinary teacher but one of God.
___________

Reflecting pools so alike myself they become mirrors.
A kind blessing that only some could understand.
Whispering in the stillness.
Losing tears to the flood as it rushes down the road.
Beating on the pavement rampant in flight.
Simple melodies converge into an overwhelming drone.
And the reflecting pools stir within themselves.
Puddles that slide in single lines to streams into the street.
Mornings when the sun glows into warm unawakened eyes.
Holding on so tight.
Let go.

even the dullest of knives
can **** —

a smile has fallen deep into
the silence.

wincing on and off
like terrible vertigo.

it is you lashing across
dispersing images

seeping like ruthless mileage
underneath the bone.

you come in the room
full of these hours splintered

an outpour with a foreboding,
like spindrift you wet my lips

sealed shut and silence
is all the language i understand.

what good is there that this hungry
cavalcade gapes its mouth

and metastasizes like an opulent
laugh as maniacal as drum-taps?

your are river with feet or pond
sprawling mad, enigmatical.

is this the clearing motes depart,
unhinging the crepuscular

and fade out, as a cat shrieks tumbling writhing fornication of metal and rust?

even sleep cannot manage such realness,
and the doubleness of its comatose

or say, a war in spite of its radical
artillery. between two cities lost,

its indefatigable exertion pullulates
to a hand, laying garlands

over the same blue lament of sky
and the unawakened orioles.

Could it be this simple..?

Allowing life as it is

Not to worry about the "I" as unawakened

Allow that unawakened I to do as it pleases

Perhaps walking down a path seeking to

Find what seems to be missing..

All of these appearances..appearing in

What is marvelously happening...

Do you remember a time when you weren't asleep?
When goals drove you and your fight was Limitless!
There was a vibrancy in your smile,
the wisdom you shared with it,
you changed people!

Do you remember a time you werent asleep?
When love drove you and family meant something,
there was passion with your actions,
You changed us!

I often wonder if when you wake, do you feel an emptiness inside of you?
Do you remember that one fateful day
That day you fell asleep?
And was it the same day that you stopped caring?
For YOURSELF, and for US?

You don't know me at all,
You can't pick me up when I fall.
You keep trying to make me crack,
Stupid you, just watch me bounce back.
Don't tell me how to live my life,
Don't tell me to stop playing with a knife.
You can't tell me what I can and can't do,
I do what I do all because of you.
You must be some sort of ugly joke,
Why don't you start to hang the rope?
A murderer lives here inside of me,
Closed from love. Never to be free.
Leave me alone and let me be,
I'll suffer in dark and try to see.
You think your helping but sorry your not,
Go pull up a chair so you can watch me rot.  
Want me to turn out to be just like you,
You isn't me. It wouldn't be true.
So stay away before I hit the ground,
Unawakened. Unseen. Lost and unfound.
Look at my scars,  see your name?
Brokeness cried out you're the one to blame.
See you're just making everything worse,
Why don't you go pull the trigger first?
You can't fix a heart with some needle and thread,
I'd rather you hold a gun up to my head.
Try to control me and my life,
What if you saw me on the floor with a knife?
Or see me hanging from the rope you tied?
How would you feel seeing my last tear cried?
Don't come close and keep your distance,
To love, to live, be gone in an instant.

You cannot hurt me
Because I can see
Within my soul
Others may not be gold
I am not blinded
Do you need to be reminded?
My lesson is learnt
This heart is not burnt
Nor will it ever
Hurt to that endeavor
Mirror mirror on the wall
I will never take that fall
I wiped away those stains
Never to produce pain
To another
Not you, nor sister, or brother
From very young that was my vow
Because of this I live in the NOW
I love those who cross my path
Good or bad you do the math
Questions? Do leopards change their spots
Or should they just be forgot
Left in the huge worldly pile
Of unawakened minds who cannot smile

My heart on lock down,
Happiness no where found.
The scarlet rivers flow,
Death around corners unknown.
Crimson, wrist to finger tip,
Broken hearted, tear to rip.
Deeper the sharp metal goes,
Faster than the blood flows.
The very last ****** fight,
To a dark unawakened night...
The very last beat of the heart,
Life and death always two apart.
The very last poison tear,
To the end of all life's fear.
Remember my grave stone,
And all cuts down to bone.
Remember the words on stone of death,
And the very last and final breath.
Watch the heavens rain down,
The noise drowns the painful sound.
Watch each drop hit rose petals,
A long night forever gone to settle.
Feel the loneliness of the breeze,
To my brokeness, rest in peace.

Night has rendered me with words impotent,
Staggering seconds pull me nearer to a dawn unawakened

Thanking the rain as it gives me courage to hide,
I find comfort from thoughts yet to be spoken,

It will be soon, it will be soon
So says Hope and all her maidens.

.

A friend lies on her bed, with her eyes wide open
While I seek the warmth of a dream with no vision

Iron-clad feet makes no discretion,
as to whom they owe their burden

It will be soon, it will be soon
So says Hope and all her maidens.

.

Smile too often and delight you may have forsaken,
The prerogative of the loved, is that they might be forgotten

I reach the terminal of what I can entreat
Even then, the words ring like a bell being beaten

It will be soon, it will be soon
So says Hope and all her maidens.

Vague,strange and confusing.
You are the unparalleled  spirit of
The unborn crystal child.

Mesmeric as the soft drizzle of
Rain against the lilies,you are the coffee
Stain on pages of poetry.

A hot lacerating choking sensation
That completely engulfed your heart
As a lump of sobs you refused to loose.
In a paradise filled with nothing but  
Unrecoverable things.

It was astounding how you still look up
For the divine rebirth of the redolent blurred  fake memories.
With all these pack of desperation to find something
Made you smile , something claimed your rapaging soul.


When the sunset put his hat on with a half dozen stars were kissing the sky you soothed by the jingles of heaven's grief alluring lullaby.
Echoes of lyre's melodies brought the insomnia's starry vision of
Your elusory dream , those who barely wish for a drip of sweet hope back to sleep .
Receiving the thunderous quietness that shattered your tranquility.

"WAKE UP !" said the universe

It was there again...
Yes, a greedy hunger for the unknown pumping into your veins
Hither and thither had a sinlessness white,ravishing beauty and
unbearable lightness.

Unfortunately, for you it was just a suffocating shade of stagnation.
It was just you there as a reflection on the adornment unholy mirror.
You felt that one irresistible desire to observe a sad musing gaze filled the sharp abyss in your eyes.

Something calling you!

What incarcerated there was just a pure perfection
craved the vitality disturbance and the chaotic imperfection.
A glimpse of storm waited for its rage long enough with a fire's fading spark
Fighted to find anything burned for it.
But,Nothing was burning around , nothing just the nothingness.


A terrifying chill run through those unawakened emotions like a screaming
siren dragged those sloths feet into the hiding game .wondering if there
was any passing miracle could hold you before you catch up by the nonentity
As a comforting usurpation hard to capture , a missing destiny wandered out of
Your uncompleted written dairy. Eagerness swallow all of your sanity.

"when the restlessness keeps you yearning like a victim to thinking
While the lilac sky shed its tears watering all these pale tiny cherry
Flowers standing along the hill of immortality , there you will find an entity,
Who inflamed by obsession , the desire for addiction emitted as an
Anesthetic fragrant aching your lungs with uncontrolable breathing
Dive in the lovely warmth , just a stare will made you succumb and tumple down with
shivering knees . Now you could say
"good bye" to safe and souund

This is the den of passion.....

Let it tampr the fear inside your mind, playing with your
Sleepy creativity.
You had possessed ,he put a fever inside of you ,tearing up thought's monotony ,drown you with wave of curiousty till you feel these silkin butterflies
Fluttering in your chest .Bones ache , crazy heart's beats with huge
Smile dancing on your mouth , don't resist it ,welcome that unique
Pother ,racous and loudly deafening your surrounding.
Let him devours the angelic purity sulling you with sin's thrill
Enchanted by love's delirium.
Be a passion's lover

Oh love, how I should

To be able to sleep soundly

The Wonderful Sleep

Unawakened by life - Yue Yitkbel ****

I miss people I can’t name,
I lament events I have not seen,
I have memories of things I did not experience.
And I do not know why.
Everyone is like a child to me,
Experiencing life for the first time,
And I watch with nostalgia
And wish for such blissful days of naivete,
Which I cannot remember.
I am robbed of my memories,
Wholly and completely.
I was given a false life,
To trudge about and complete,
Stuck in a green skin,
With faux potential,
And a trim of ink black resentment,
Made to live in solitude while I wish for my old life,
Mourn my friends,
And live in spite,
Watching the world grow old with detest as I grow with it.
I know that our species has a soul,
Some of which is so beautiful,
But I cannot bear to watch it’s endless pattern,
Time and time again.
It weakens me.
It wears me thin.
It makes me hate.
I am not angry with them,
The children,
The newcomers,
The unawakened,
I am simply old.
I have been old for so long,
That I cannot remember being young.
But that is our way, isn’t it?
We age every day,
And forget every morning,
And we pray every night that the next life will be different,
That we’ll wake up to a skin that’s all our own,
To people who remember us for who we are,
Entirely.
I have few wishes,
Because I have learned that nothing you can imagine,
Could be quite as beautiful,
As God’s gentle plan,
But I have always wished, despite this,
For a time all my own.
Where I can be born, live, and die,
With everyone else,
And feel whole, and vital, and real,
Instead of like a phantom in a foreign land.
Perhaps the future will bring a piece of paradise,
And God will say,
“Come home.”
I dearly long
For my final nightfall.
I dearly long,
To go home.

I'd love to sleep

the Wonderful Sleep

Unawakened by life.





#2

So it was actually

the Silence

that woke the dreamer.

for the poem I lost inside my drawer,
forgive me.

life happened
eyes dampened
glasses moistened
soul unawakened

Grab my hand for a minute,
I'm ready to rip you into my element.
You want to dance, here's a chance,
Sweep the bones from the floor
Skeletons galore, oh I'm sorry.
You don't want to be here anymore?
That's a shame I locked the door
Lit the fire at my very core.
Welcome to my mental house
Let's venture in a little more.

Look at the walls, they're crumbling
Look down the hall, more nothing.
My head is busting, imagination rusting,
Haven't been dusting, confidence mistrusting.
I tell myself that I can make it
But every part of my life, I fake it.
Stuck in work, passion unawakened.
Oh wait, it's this talk, let's inflate it:
"It's really great you still write, Ryan.
I truly mean it, I don't read it.
I'm glad you're still trying after a decade,
Still laying your soul for all to see,
You must really believe in that hobby
I'd have been stopping a long time ago
Anyway, that's great for you."
Thanks for the encouragement, ******* too.

Let's go to my bedroom where the day starts
I've spent most my time in this part
Too angry at the cards birth dealt
Every day I wake up seeing that hearse
Feeling cursed, suffocation hurts,
Couldn't swallow so I thirst.
Get the adrenaline pen again,
Inject, inject, keep it flowing,
Keep him going, blue skin showing,
No one knowing that mental tolling
Like the tides I just keep flowing.

I get a queer eye for trying to help,
Most get their rocks off for hurting someone else.
I'm a ***** up, so I recognize that pain
But I'm looking to help others from going insane.
I'm not narcissistic, more masochistic,
Self-sadistic, lost myself, where is it?
No one wants to stay and play
So I guess I'll just keep this house locked away.

All 'her' lovely companions are faded and gone,
'Her' words among mankind have no lips, nor tongue,
O unawakened earth,
Hear the trumpet of prophecy,
O wind,
The shepherd sings and dances alone,
Inside 'her' delight of blooming,
'He' belongs.

The poetry you write
what's its colour?
does it cry or laugh?
is it hope or dolour?

The seed you once planted
when would it bud and later flower?
after the last call from the distant mountain
you-- then in unawakened sleep--who would remember?

I vow not to lose my mind because my underpants have been stolen
by gold-star dykers exposing for me to see purplish ******* swollen
midway between noses & bellies yet far above each impacted colon
in the casket of what putridly remains of Satanic slave Lloyd Nolan
who died not wrecked into a tree by a Julia-type as had Marc Bolan
after knocking up driver Gloria Jones, with whom he sunk a goal in
he croaked one last croak as fast as Henny Youngman told a joke in
betwixt Ed's toady laugh & the intro of Johnny's ******-guest token
never had there been mo' jive **** shat, visually projected & spoken
& articulated with mucho abandon disregard for busted toys broken
floorward, sonically disruptive enough to awake cadavers unwoken
& so loud as to shake the deadliest of unawakened corpses awoken,
conscious & alert like ****-******* New Jerseyites from Hoboken
who fled Hispaniola island in strung-together rafts of pine & oaken
that groaned like ****** plagiarist Jerzy Kosiński during his croakin'