Why do we think being a ghost is so easy?
Just show up where they call you
when you are called.
but you cannot touch anyone.
just watch on if you are lucky while
the quick ones you loved cry and move on.
It's not easy being a ghost.
haunting isn't easy.
so what if I haunt you
while you take a shower just to see what
a beautiful thing a body is.
Even pretending to be the water is no good.
It's not easy being a ghost
I don't like to fall anyway.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
rough idea
Oce upon a time, there was a packet of seeds. iy had a pretty label that read wildflowers. The packet had alovely picyure of what the seeds would become if nurtured properly. the instructions on the back said to toss them around on the ground where you wished the wildflower to grow.
While in transit the seeds began talking and one seed asked each other whereare you from? eachhad atale of how they came from a beautiful flower, their mother was beautiful and they were foing to look just like that oneday,it's all inside. so in their packet they lived for weeks, which became months, until a woman purchased the packet and read on the back what time of year to plant them.
At home the lady put potting soil in ten containers and then prepared her daughters for the event of planting the seeds. Everyone was excited. The little women asked where wil we put them? the lady explained that they ought to go on the windowsill because they needed sun light. "Just like us!" cried a little girl who then asked to go outside.
each day the children rushed to see if their seed had grown. under ground one little seed complained loudlt, "I'm so thirsty I think I'll die if I don't get a drink pretty soon. The little girl asked her mother for a sip of water, then after she drank she gave some to each of the seeds, Something magical happened!
The seeds sprouted, and grew roots. but nothing that the girls could see. Thn the mother bought a pitcher for watering flowers and said, I think that they need water. The little girl though, Bah, I already gave them water and nothing worked.
But after a few more days, the seeds poked up through the dirt! They made it through! when the children saw it they were so excited that they pulled each one up root and all. wating the flowers so badly.
The mother came in and saw the girls comparing the sprouts to the flowers on the package. They called to her and said, "mom, I think you got ripped off. These are not flowers just look at them!" Flustered, the mother only had time to wisk up the flowers and toss them in the yard to die peacefully.
But unknown to them, they took root and grew happily in the yard, jut outsidethe window the girls saw a lvely path of flowers. "Oh, mama! thank you for getting us some flowers!' The girls cried out.
The mother went and looked, sure enough theu had survived that, too, and became what they had inside them! She pondered in her heart if she ought to explain the genetic miracle to her little ones and figured they would be able by chance to learn far greater truths, so she just let them quietly observe.
All together the flowers looked lovely with enough grass to off set their beauty. but one little seed felt gipped. "My mother flower was never pink or pretty at all anyway." cried the flower even after it had survived to bloom. I wil neve be as perfect as those tall pink flowers, said the little short orange bloom.
The came the girls who had found a pair of scissors and were acheing to give them a try. "OH, look here! Mom would love to have a vase of these pretty pink flowers to go with her new table cloth." the children all agreed so the cut and arranged the flowers, leaving the Tiger lily alone.
"Mom, mom, look at what we got for you!", said the children handing a boquet. It was perfect she thought, so she put then in a vase, and thanked her little ones and took the sissors away. "Story time!" she called them all in for naptime and told them the tale of an orchid that took many years to grow, but became the loveiest flower. "Now children, remember that every flower has its own purpose just as each of you have different destinies. Some will be put in a vase an others will bloom only after years of nurturing, but everyone belongs for a reason." the kids all fell asleep and dremed of meadows of flowers.
The mother went outside to fix any damage she found. but suprised she found the path of flowerswaseven more lovely with the pink ones gone. The others might not make a pretty boquet, but they really made her yard morebeautiful and caused hr to smile more than the boquet of frshly cut flowers did. She took a deep breath and then ran inside.
And as it ended the orange flowers returned each year and often are seen and admired. now know as classic or annuals as are the irises and buttercups. The End.
While in transit the seeds began talking and one seed asked each other whereare you from? eachhad atale of how they came from a beautiful flower, their mother was beautiful and they were foing to look just like that oneday,it's all inside. so in their packet they lived for weeks, which became months, until a woman purchased the packet and read on the back what time of year to plant them.
At home the lady put potting soil in ten containers and then prepared her daughters for the event of planting the seeds. Everyone was excited. The little women asked where wil we put them? the lady explained that they ought to go on the windowsill because they needed sun light. "Just like us!" cried a little girl who then asked to go outside.
each day the children rushed to see if their seed had grown. under ground one little seed complained loudlt, "I'm so thirsty I think I'll die if I don't get a drink pretty soon. The little girl asked her mother for a sip of water, then after she drank she gave some to each of the seeds, Something magical happened!
The seeds sprouted, and grew roots. but nothing that the girls could see. Thn the mother bought a pitcher for watering flowers and said, I think that they need water. The little girl though, Bah, I already gave them water and nothing worked.
But after a few more days, the seeds poked up through the dirt! They made it through! when the children saw it they were so excited that they pulled each one up root and all. wating the flowers so badly.
The mother came in and saw the girls comparing the sprouts to the flowers on the package. They called to her and said, "mom, I think you got ripped off. These are not flowers just look at them!" Flustered, the mother only had time to wisk up the flowers and toss them in the yard to die peacefully.
But unknown to them, they took root and grew happily in the yard, jut outsidethe window the girls saw a lvely path of flowers. "Oh, mama! thank you for getting us some flowers!' The girls cried out.
The mother went and looked, sure enough theu had survived that, too, and became what they had inside them! She pondered in her heart if she ought to explain the genetic miracle to her little ones and figured they would be able by chance to learn far greater truths, so she just let them quietly observe.
All together the flowers looked lovely with enough grass to off set their beauty. but one little seed felt gipped. "My mother flower was never pink or pretty at all anyway." cried the flower even after it had survived to bloom. I wil neve be as perfect as those tall pink flowers, said the little short orange bloom.
The came the girls who had found a pair of scissors and were acheing to give them a try. "OH, look here! Mom would love to have a vase of these pretty pink flowers to go with her new table cloth." the children all agreed so the cut and arranged the flowers, leaving the Tiger lily alone.
"Mom, mom, look at what we got for you!", said the children handing a boquet. It was perfect she thought, so she put then in a vase, and thanked her little ones and took the sissors away. "Story time!" she called them all in for naptime and told them the tale of an orchid that took many years to grow, but became the loveiest flower. "Now children, remember that every flower has its own purpose just as each of you have different destinies. Some will be put in a vase an others will bloom only after years of nurturing, but everyone belongs for a reason." the kids all fell asleep and dremed of meadows of flowers.
The mother went outside to fix any damage she found. but suprised she found the path of flowerswaseven more lovely with the pink ones gone. The others might not make a pretty boquet, but they really made her yard morebeautiful and caused hr to smile more than the boquet of frshly cut flowers did. She took a deep breath and then ran inside.
And as it ended the orange flowers returned each year and often are seen and admired. now know as classic or annuals as are the irises and buttercups. The End.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
impromptu
a flower grows splendidly when nourished by its own source,
My learning hasn't been in vain, yet, my recovery is still
pending.
there is no medical explination, or scientific reason for,
All of my questions. The answer lies in a field of lilies.
If I were to pluck them, they would wane and fade, always
retaining the potential to be, as do I.
No one else has figured this truth out, yet because it is
too obvious, like gravity. having love is taken for granted.
I will never become because I was plucked from my path,
The destination still beams in my soul, but I wither away, frustrated.
My learning hasn't been in vain, yet, my recovery is still
pending.
there is no medical explination, or scientific reason for,
All of my questions. The answer lies in a field of lilies.
If I were to pluck them, they would wane and fade, always
retaining the potential to be, as do I.
No one else has figured this truth out, yet because it is
too obvious, like gravity. having love is taken for granted.
I will never become because I was plucked from my path,
The destination still beams in my soul, but I wither away, frustrated.
Rose
So cruel, the hand that plucked
the fair rosebud leaving it potential
forever and ever more.
A symbol in a vase on an obscure table
where no eyes will fall, naturally
upon it or understand.
So very cruel that hand,
but the hand has no thought,
The nails bear no polish (paint sounds like point)
Beauty seeks no competition.
So untimely the bud will never be a rose
but it has the thorns
and took the scorns
and died for no appearant reason.
Then after death, the bloom soon fades,
and back to dust it all returns. never
becoming. Ever seed umtil it comes
again. maybe not in this life. Maybe
not the next. When then, when then will
it be the thing it now pretends?
the fair rosebud leaving it potential
forever and ever more.
A symbol in a vase on an obscure table
where no eyes will fall, naturally
upon it or understand.
So very cruel that hand,
but the hand has no thought,
The nails bear no polish (paint sounds like point)
Beauty seeks no competition.
So untimely the bud will never be a rose
but it has the thorns
and took the scorns
and died for no appearant reason.
Then after death, the bloom soon fades,
and back to dust it all returns. never
becoming. Ever seed umtil it comes
again. maybe not in this life. Maybe
not the next. When then, when then will
it be the thing it now pretends?
pride was his downfall
Maybe They were right that thought that I was doomed though I thought
that being born was an escape. Being here to leave it all behind me. I
could forget everything and start over. Isn't that just the same
longing we still have in this life?
But there is no such thing as escape if our prison is our ownself,
for a few moments in your safe arms I confronted all my demons and let
befall me come what may. I could conquer and survive.
Some find shelter in drugs, alchohal, sleep, etc, but I find my refuge in you.
This life/time I will conquer, and not give up or be alone. I
whispered in your ear that I was depending on you to help me through
this. It was our plan and our private oath. Everything becomes a
metaphor, tattling the secret truth. Maybe we don't need faith or
vision to help.
Pride was his downfall, though. So I cannot let it destroy me too.
that being born was an escape. Being here to leave it all behind me. I
could forget everything and start over. Isn't that just the same
longing we still have in this life?
But there is no such thing as escape if our prison is our ownself,
for a few moments in your safe arms I confronted all my demons and let
befall me come what may. I could conquer and survive.
Some find shelter in drugs, alchohal, sleep, etc, but I find my refuge in you.
This life/time I will conquer, and not give up or be alone. I
whispered in your ear that I was depending on you to help me through
this. It was our plan and our private oath. Everything becomes a
metaphor, tattling the secret truth. Maybe we don't need faith or
vision to help.
Pride was his downfall, though. So I cannot let it destroy me too.
a new song for Brandall
sitting on my bed in a house that's not my own
waiting or a ring from you on the telephone,
But you do not call.
I never hear your ring
So I start crying, wish that I was dying
but it does no good. I does NO good.
I'm here because you left me,
and I wait for another chance to live
to try again, living through the clouds and rain.
I made it through my rehab and did my time with therapists
but still it does no good, it does NO good.
so I brak down and call you up.
I even plan to stnatch you up while you're at work
But it does no good. it does NO good.
I try to clear all thoughts of you cause
you won't ever change your mind.
it does no good. it does NO good.
just tell me you don't love me,
that you'll never love me.
It does no good.hiding from he truth does NO good.
waiting or a ring from you on the telephone,
But you do not call.
I never hear your ring
So I start crying, wish that I was dying
but it does no good. I does NO good.
I'm here because you left me,
and I wait for another chance to live
to try again, living through the clouds and rain.
I made it through my rehab and did my time with therapists
but still it does no good, it does NO good.
so I brak down and call you up.
I even plan to stnatch you up while you're at work
But it does no good. it does NO good.
I try to clear all thoughts of you cause
you won't ever change your mind.
it does no good. it does NO good.
just tell me you don't love me,
that you'll never love me.
It does no good.hiding from he truth does NO good.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
captured thoughts on love
I have a hard enough time
telling the difference between my heart and my soul
without throwing love into the picture.
What has my love ever done to
prove his love? still
It doesn't matter to me.
I have made everyone else meet
some impossible standards
but forgive it of him.
I just don't know why.
What is impossible for man is poosible in dreams.
Love is blind, perhaps it is love that binds me so.
telling the difference between my heart and my soul
without throwing love into the picture.
What has my love ever done to
prove his love? still
It doesn't matter to me.
I have made everyone else meet
some impossible standards
but forgive it of him.
I just don't know why.
What is impossible for man is poosible in dreams.
Love is blind, perhaps it is love that binds me so.
Titles
Some people are more than their titles
Titles are wrongly given
at a beginging point
but it is truly just a step on the way.
Titles are wrongly given
at a beginging point
but it is truly just a step on the way.
another essay - more plain
Though I have no intention to name it, others will do that, I can see it though, the new philosophy behind the current "post-modern or punk" art.
I see a problem. I forsee either the elevation of the self or degredation of the star untill all are made equal. It is sad really, but true and there so tangible. with an increase of freedom, particularly with women, an idea cannot be dismissed as "common" simply because it was presented by a woman.
The real task lies in the choice of the Agent or Talent scout, or Publisher. They have to decide who is going to be great to the world that knows that everyone is great, cause the bounderies and walls are crumbling.
An artist cannot hide, the public must know everything, to know how the are just like the person of greatness, learning the truth here is no real distinction. It is either a blessing or a curse. I bet it is a dialectal pattern, swinging back and forth loosing momentum it falls again where it did in other great ages where man came to terms with the faact tHAT HE WSN'T THE CENTER OF THE UNVERSE. I think people are, out of desire or curiosity, wanting to lift themselves up or recieve praise in the fact thtt hey are no different than "Johnny", it helps one not feel alone, but ultimately, it will produce a different effect. The hope is to be lazy and ride and accept the past as great, but History repeats, so if this nation of EMO or whatnot dies, a new "60's" generation will be born out of the ashes.
But it was rightly prophesised by Isaiah that the mountains would be brought low and the valley exalted, that the crooked would be made straight, to prepare for the Lord. It is frightening, but awesome that this could be but a preparation of the world, even styles are changing to make room for everyone, no one dare exclude this time around. It is the Synthesis, as Hegel spoke of it.
2/7/2008
I see a problem. I forsee either the elevation of the self or degredation of the star untill all are made equal. It is sad really, but true and there so tangible. with an increase of freedom, particularly with women, an idea cannot be dismissed as "common" simply because it was presented by a woman.
The real task lies in the choice of the Agent or Talent scout, or Publisher. They have to decide who is going to be great to the world that knows that everyone is great, cause the bounderies and walls are crumbling.
An artist cannot hide, the public must know everything, to know how the are just like the person of greatness, learning the truth here is no real distinction. It is either a blessing or a curse. I bet it is a dialectal pattern, swinging back and forth loosing momentum it falls again where it did in other great ages where man came to terms with the faact tHAT HE WSN'T THE CENTER OF THE UNVERSE. I think people are, out of desire or curiosity, wanting to lift themselves up or recieve praise in the fact thtt hey are no different than "Johnny", it helps one not feel alone, but ultimately, it will produce a different effect. The hope is to be lazy and ride and accept the past as great, but History repeats, so if this nation of EMO or whatnot dies, a new "60's" generation will be born out of the ashes.
But it was rightly prophesised by Isaiah that the mountains would be brought low and the valley exalted, that the crooked would be made straight, to prepare for the Lord. It is frightening, but awesome that this could be but a preparation of the world, even styles are changing to make room for everyone, no one dare exclude this time around. It is the Synthesis, as Hegel spoke of it.
2/7/2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
a writting- unrefined
Maybe They were right that thought that I was doomed though I thought that being born was an escape. Being here to leave it all behind me. I could forget everything and start over. Isn't that just the same longing we still have in this life?
But there is no such thing as escape if our prison is our ownself,
for a few moments in your safe arms I confronted all my demons and let befall me come what may. I could conquer and survive.
Some find shelter in drugs, alchohal, sleep, etc, but I find my refuge in you.
This life/time I will conquer, and not give up or be alone. I whispered in your ear that I was depending on you to help me through this. It was our plan and our private oath. Everything becomes a metaphor, tattling the secret truth. Maybe we don't need faith or vision to help.
Pride was his downfall, though. So I cannot let it destroy me too.
But there is no such thing as escape if our prison is our ownself,
for a few moments in your safe arms I confronted all my demons and let befall me come what may. I could conquer and survive.
Some find shelter in drugs, alchohal, sleep, etc, but I find my refuge in you.
This life/time I will conquer, and not give up or be alone. I whispered in your ear that I was depending on you to help me through this. It was our plan and our private oath. Everything becomes a metaphor, tattling the secret truth. Maybe we don't need faith or vision to help.
Pride was his downfall, though. So I cannot let it destroy me too.
Friday, January 11, 2008
A greater tradgedy of spirit
I know who you are
Died Obscure and young
It's so Romantic (you always were)
So strange to come across
the onee who i studied so
very cautiously,
I even began to know him
reality to me has become estranged
Has another living or dead known your truth?
Mostly I wonder how you overcame
Zymotic manifestations
and how you were raised from birth.
smile on me, Oh timelesss one.
Died Obscure and young
It's so Romantic (you always were)
So strange to come across
the onee who i studied so
very cautiously,
I even began to know him
reality to me has become estranged
Has another living or dead known your truth?
Mostly I wonder how you overcame
Zymotic manifestations
and how you were raised from birth.
smile on me, Oh timelesss one.
on tragedies
If ophelia had reason to cry,
And gertrude both cause enough to die
Then, I must surely live, to see no love
to loose my hope. What greater fall is there?
We are seperated by dimensions.
And gertrude both cause enough to die
Then, I must surely live, to see no love
to loose my hope. What greater fall is there?
We are seperated by dimensions.
1994
no two eyes could find such delight
no heart feel to united
no mind know such peace
as mine do, in your prescence.
I wanted to hide, but could not move.
Such an unatural fear siezed my heart.
no monster, no man, no voice, no animal
A word caused me to tremble.
I doubt all is well...
A silent confirmation
I know not how but stand assured
We will learn of Humanity together
but my heart isn't into loving him.
That dedication
Such sigleness,
perpetual growth.
Tradgic momentum that is wisely left untampered.
Where do I turn?
My heart or my head?
Hurry on to what?
A crash, a broken heart.
no heart feel to united
no mind know such peace
as mine do, in your prescence.
I wanted to hide, but could not move.
Such an unatural fear siezed my heart.
no monster, no man, no voice, no animal
A word caused me to tremble.
I doubt all is well...
A silent confirmation
I know not how but stand assured
We will learn of Humanity together
but my heart isn't into loving him.
That dedication
Such sigleness,
perpetual growth.
Tradgic momentum that is wisely left untampered.
Where do I turn?
My heart or my head?
Hurry on to what?
A crash, a broken heart.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Sept. 1994
To dream of owning it...beauty
but knowing plainess won't
be overcome!
A man doesn't love s woman for her
Wit, Charm, Intellect or virtue
THey are like ornaments to
her Melodic figure.
To dream of owning it... a man's love.
Note: Do not read for facevalue
it might mean the opposite of
what your first Impression
was. If not. I'm sorry, please ignore me, I'm sick.
but knowing plainess won't
be overcome!
A man doesn't love s woman for her
Wit, Charm, Intellect or virtue
THey are like ornaments to
her Melodic figure.
To dream of owning it... a man's love.
Note: Do not read for facevalue
it might mean the opposite of
what your first Impression
was. If not. I'm sorry, please ignore me, I'm sick.
Words
Love and war are words
Limp words, once inflated
By another imagination, noe
lie limp devoid of shape
BUt, How elsecould t have been?
Stretched to mean so much
Love and war now
Mean Nothing to me.
Limp words, once inflated
By another imagination, noe
lie limp devoid of shape
BUt, How elsecould t have been?
Stretched to mean so much
Love and war now
Mean Nothing to me.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Love?
I do love him.
His hands
I love his hands!
His neck
I remember all too well!
His mind
Made to search.
His Music
I love his music
His laugh
A wonderful ride
His style
To adore from afar.
And his arms want to embrace me.
And hold me close to His chest
With one of those hands on my back,
And one on my neck
His eyes
to gase into
God, I do love him
His hands
I love his hands!
His neck
I remember all too well!
His mind
Made to search.
His Music
I love his music
His laugh
A wonderful ride
His style
To adore from afar.
And his arms want to embrace me.
And hold me close to His chest
With one of those hands on my back,
And one on my neck
His eyes
to gase into
God, I do love him
The Mirror Man
Looking at you,
I see forever
So I look away...
I'm not accustomed
to a one-way mirror.
With you my reflection
is Absorbed.
My appearance fades
Leaving a naked soul.
To share a thought
Brings a coy Smile
Don't, I beg strip me
Of my thoughts, for my emotions
Find shelter there
Your frown I could not bear.
I see forever
So I look away...
I'm not accustomed
to a one-way mirror.
With you my reflection
is Absorbed.
My appearance fades
Leaving a naked soul.
To share a thought
Brings a coy Smile
Don't, I beg strip me
Of my thoughts, for my emotions
Find shelter there
Your frown I could not bear.
Angel of Music
He is my angel of music
He inspires me
a whole new world to see
With him.
It is too fateful
to believe otherwise.
He was sent from the skies
To love
And nurture my talent
to be my angel of music.
I must be aglow
to have fested the night before
As I have, the mood couldn't
help but to linger
And I sparkle to think
How this will end
He inspires me
a whole new world to see
With him.
It is too fateful
to believe otherwise.
He was sent from the skies
To love
And nurture my talent
to be my angel of music.
I must be aglow
to have fested the night before
As I have, the mood couldn't
help but to linger
And I sparkle to think
How this will end
Get out of my thoughts!
Get out of my thoughts
And let me have peace
Beore the night falls And I
Return to sleep and to dream
In the flight of my fancy
Emotions that I think to hide
Lash out! Seeming so
Life like that I might begin to
Entertain the thought that "you love me".
Save me! from
This false pretense
And rescue me from
The unreliable evidenceof Love
Overshadowing my every thought
Making me think of you.
And let me have peace
Beore the night falls And I
Return to sleep and to dream
In the flight of my fancy
Emotions that I think to hide
Lash out! Seeming so
Life like that I might begin to
Entertain the thought that "you love me".
Save me! from
This false pretense
And rescue me from
The unreliable evidenceof Love
Overshadowing my every thought
Making me think of you.
to be a hero
To be a heroine
I could love who I please
And after all They will return it
Unconditionally.
I could love who I please
And after all They will return it
Unconditionally.
He & I - The riddle
Is it possible to fall in love with a memory?
I say it is.
But, not so common is this sort of love.
My memory his
I am driven
Wholly smitten...
How could I have been so blind?
And yet I fear again
To protect my conscious mind
I for nothing endure the present pain.
He and I are one
Even after lives apart
And faces none too common.
We have substance in heart
and mind extending to
our souls and all capacity of being.
A seed grew in harmonious duplicity.
tis natures play
How fruit of one branch
can fall so far away.
man, from the ground doth
Snatch.
And forceth them together
"in a poisonous cider", unless
They submit Themselves
Forever,
For their Creator's success.
Ah! to steal his heat!
And then to steal away.
The later is the trick
For, if his heart is so easily removed
Danger is never too far away.
I say it is.
But, not so common is this sort of love.
My memory his
I am driven
Wholly smitten...
How could I have been so blind?
And yet I fear again
To protect my conscious mind
I for nothing endure the present pain.
He and I are one
Even after lives apart
And faces none too common.
We have substance in heart
and mind extending to
our souls and all capacity of being.
A seed grew in harmonious duplicity.
tis natures play
How fruit of one branch
can fall so far away.
man, from the ground doth
Snatch.
And forceth them together
"in a poisonous cider", unless
They submit Themselves
Forever,
For their Creator's success.
Ah! to steal his heat!
And then to steal away.
The later is the trick
For, if his heart is so easily removed
Danger is never too far away.
Hand of Justice
Weary of Blasphemy
The hand of justice turns its palm.
No longer suspended it falls
upon those deserving
execution of irrevocable laws.
Ignorance never saved a soul
A thirsty man won't forget to drink.
Even so, some grow faint
and die for lack of drink.
All the way, waited upon
By willing, serving hands
It would make no sense
To drown him in doctrine.
It will grow too late.
Will Einstein suggest the lack of limits?
The hand of justice turns its palm.
No longer suspended it falls
upon those deserving
execution of irrevocable laws.
Ignorance never saved a soul
A thirsty man won't forget to drink.
Even so, some grow faint
and die for lack of drink.
All the way, waited upon
By willing, serving hands
It would make no sense
To drown him in doctrine.
It will grow too late.
Will Einstein suggest the lack of limits?
Ode to Hegel
Hegel's eternal spirals
speak truth to the hungered soul.
There is no purpose in reason
beyond the truth, unrefracted
light uniting all colors
leaving darkness to itself.
Leave me not
in the shadow.
Eclipse not this heart,
lift me ever gently
turn upon turn.
Might I ever find myself
forever higher, and
Never stripped, the screw
with which I ascend.
speak truth to the hungered soul.
There is no purpose in reason
beyond the truth, unrefracted
light uniting all colors
leaving darkness to itself.
Leave me not
in the shadow.
Eclipse not this heart,
lift me ever gently
turn upon turn.
Might I ever find myself
forever higher, and
Never stripped, the screw
with which I ascend.
Perpetual Love
I love him perpetually,
But what makes me love him
Scares me to silence.
So intently, he muses himself
with the present
So fully he believes
in the moment
That I wonder when I might slip
into the past.
Anyway I could not loose
for he looks upon me Favorably
And my heart might deceive my intentions
But It will never deny what ought to be.
Each love has a symbol
that casts a looming memory for good or ill.
If ever our love will fade,
So will the earth:Every bird and tree;
Every star and cloud remind me
of the death of that perfecting love.
But what makes me love him
Scares me to silence.
So intently, he muses himself
with the present
So fully he believes
in the moment
That I wonder when I might slip
into the past.
Anyway I could not loose
for he looks upon me Favorably
And my heart might deceive my intentions
But It will never deny what ought to be.
Each love has a symbol
that casts a looming memory for good or ill.
If ever our love will fade,
So will the earth:Every bird and tree;
Every star and cloud remind me
of the death of that perfecting love.
Random thoughts
Don't tell me you have a past.
Tell me you see a future
The present cannot bind you
to your love. But, seal yourself to me.
Chaos repells love.
Words are weapons.
I've seen it in another and felt it in their tears,
But never have I been the side that wept.
Tell me you see a future
The present cannot bind you
to your love. But, seal yourself to me.
Chaos repells love.
Words are weapons.
I've seen it in another and felt it in their tears,
But never have I been the side that wept.
Beauty?
Beauty is a learned response
Past days, xaftigity's sheek
While slenderuns slept in streets.
Who chooses the importance of a women's width of waist?
Or gentle men's groomed face?
It's not I can't, I say I won't
Understand the virtues of chance
Past days, xaftigity's sheek
While slenderuns slept in streets.
Who chooses the importance of a women's width of waist?
Or gentle men's groomed face?
It's not I can't, I say I won't
Understand the virtues of chance
Sonnet 1994
Tis good to know my face is not a book
Of common cliques and biddings overdone.
Parably, I may decieve those who simply look
While revelation opens up to certain ones
Who love and look beyond: What's in a word?
Agreed, one will define, but none will do justice to this
The pulsing of my heart and mind what's more
to make a plot of this nose and these lips.
While my eyes seem unaware your dig
Overturning soil:are you seeking a treasure hidden
It has been hard to confuse a foe so big
And turn this way and that, your hand to me forbidden.
So, read this riddle with eyes of love and see
The tenderness of Complex security,
Of common cliques and biddings overdone.
Parably, I may decieve those who simply look
While revelation opens up to certain ones
Who love and look beyond: What's in a word?
Agreed, one will define, but none will do justice to this
The pulsing of my heart and mind what's more
to make a plot of this nose and these lips.
While my eyes seem unaware your dig
Overturning soil:are you seeking a treasure hidden
It has been hard to confuse a foe so big
And turn this way and that, your hand to me forbidden.
So, read this riddle with eyes of love and see
The tenderness of Complex security,
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