I fear the ringing stopped.
The bell no longer tolls.
I fear the sound has perished..
and I fear nobody knows.
The pain of loss unspoken
sunken feelings now awoken.
repressed and unadorned.
where are you liberty?
has Spain not shed a tear?
What is it happiness?
where have you been all year?
I see it now.
quit clearly.
I see it like a storm.
imagined doom and terrors
deprive me from that which is warm..
I see it whirling around me.
this vulnerability.
this care that's unrequited.
this maiden out at sea
imagined strife and sorrow.
oh bother, woe is me.
I, a deaf parishioner.
alone.
unaware.
unspoken.
blind.
.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Reprise
I feel as if I've told this story before.
A boy, trapped in his age.
not slighted by the swift crush of ambivalence. The sky falling before him like a genuflecting servant.
The night rises without a pale fire.
March's soul begs an uneasy question. God can not simply claim his own omnipotence. As a child can not beg himself to know truth beyond his years. We are shackled by the present. Cursed to only be sculptors of the drying clay we call our futures.
Yes I have told this story before. It is about the uncertainty of the past before conception.
Pt. 2
The Post
Out like our shallow feelings, for our lovers our arms can't yet bear the weight of our sorrows and internalized our hate instead of violence. I've not been one to gripe. For I am no one yet to speak of love and hate attained. We are all shallow. Like waters in a puddle. We have to be stepped on a while before our shallowness is gone.
Pt. 3
The Window
Gray as a stone pivot wall
Strong like the suns of ole english priests
The air is a jewel in the sky
Precious as only life can be.
Although we are all doomed to die
An interest in ideals contrast the truth and closes our eyes
We are blind
A shame
Wilderness blinds, Sanity sells.
To be, and to see are to live
like we can.
A boy, trapped in his age.
not slighted by the swift crush of ambivalence. The sky falling before him like a genuflecting servant.
The night rises without a pale fire.
March's soul begs an uneasy question. God can not simply claim his own omnipotence. As a child can not beg himself to know truth beyond his years. We are shackled by the present. Cursed to only be sculptors of the drying clay we call our futures.
Yes I have told this story before. It is about the uncertainty of the past before conception.
Pt. 2
The Post
Out like our shallow feelings, for our lovers our arms can't yet bear the weight of our sorrows and internalized our hate instead of violence. I've not been one to gripe. For I am no one yet to speak of love and hate attained. We are all shallow. Like waters in a puddle. We have to be stepped on a while before our shallowness is gone.
Pt. 3
The Window
Gray as a stone pivot wall
Strong like the suns of ole english priests
The air is a jewel in the sky
Precious as only life can be.
Although we are all doomed to die
An interest in ideals contrast the truth and closes our eyes
We are blind
A shame
Wilderness blinds, Sanity sells.
To be, and to see are to live
like we can.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Comfort
- Their courageous embrace
It panics my senses.
A subtle reaction not seen
My face shifts. I blunder.
Their comfort reminds me.
I remember her face.
But her name escapes me.
It once was. But it isn't now.
A ringing, a sound of warning.
She was.. Once. Or rather she is
She, IS a... A master of balance.
An artist with time.
A mistress of history.
An interest of mine.
The sound from the bells awake me
Church bells not withstanding.
They remind me of summers past.
I dwell within her singing.
Taste
They gave up on thinking.
They forced their hand.
They gave up on moving.
They were buried in sand.
A monolith they carried.
Astounded they stood.
A meager position.
A bridge made of wood.
Swift fires undaunting.
Swell tiding came quick.
Shivering tendencies.
Signs leading to nowhere.
They came on horseback.
They said they knew best.
They are slightly soft spoken
The horsemen in the pale moon light.
Easy came quickly.
Earnestly so.
Esther's cold shoulder fits the bill.
Ends of the earth, the ends of days
You cannot escape the cruel intentions of ghostly figures.
They will follow you in the peripherals of your sight in the darkest caverns of your mind.
At night they will haunt you.
At night it will be too late..
They forced their hand.
They gave up on moving.
They were buried in sand.
A monolith they carried.
Astounded they stood.
A meager position.
A bridge made of wood.
Swift fires undaunting.
Swell tiding came quick.
Shivering tendencies.
Signs leading to nowhere.
They came on horseback.
They said they knew best.
They are slightly soft spoken
The horsemen in the pale moon light.
Easy came quickly.
Earnestly so.
Esther's cold shoulder fits the bill.
Ends of the earth, the ends of days
You cannot escape the cruel intentions of ghostly figures.
They will follow you in the peripherals of your sight in the darkest caverns of your mind.
At night they will haunt you.
At night it will be too late..
Lago
The breeze encased in iron
Uneasy sighs as the justice of morrows past, eclipse the scolding moonlight of a native sun.
Redemption through excellence.
Restriction by obliteration.
The Lake stood still for years.
Only the passing rain caused a shiver.
When will the maiden voyage return?
Above whispers of neglect.
And silent hateful signs of affection.
While at sea I saw her.
While away, Like a stone I've sat.
In the darkness.
Her laughter is all she wrote.
Uneasy sighs as the justice of morrows past, eclipse the scolding moonlight of a native sun.
Redemption through excellence.
Restriction by obliteration.
The Lake stood still for years.
Only the passing rain caused a shiver.
When will the maiden voyage return?
Above whispers of neglect.
And silent hateful signs of affection.
While at sea I saw her.
While away, Like a stone I've sat.
In the darkness.
Her laughter is all she wrote.
Castillo en un Barco
The waining and panning of a dusted shallow.
Unmistakable affirmation of guilt
The sullen uneasiness of the bare breasted enchantress.
Easy did it.
Did it with out a second guess.
Unaware there was no second chance.
The first encounter with the pathetic nods of a frivolous philistine.
Now the castle stands high above the lake. beneath the clouds on a boat made of sand.
Unmoved.
Guarded by stones longing to board.
Longing to sink.
And to live forever beneath the superficial pangs of the sun.
Oh god why did she have to happen.
Just as I was doing so well without her.
Unmistakable affirmation of guilt
The sullen uneasiness of the bare breasted enchantress.
Easy did it.
Did it with out a second guess.
Unaware there was no second chance.
The first encounter with the pathetic nods of a frivolous philistine.
Now the castle stands high above the lake. beneath the clouds on a boat made of sand.
Unmoved.
Guarded by stones longing to board.
Longing to sink.
And to live forever beneath the superficial pangs of the sun.
Oh god why did she have to happen.
Just as I was doing so well without her.
En Las Nueves
Today the storm broke.
An atomic bomb of surprise.
Spring awoke like a muffled heartbeat.
A crystal obelisk to Spanish royalty.
Light glimmers on weekends.
Sundays unforgiving
Sanded dollars
Wounded elk
In the sky's of larking shadows.
My eyes open at the possibility.
Stars with broken wings.
Angels with stolen hearts.
The aches of freedom.
pressed to the edge of sanity.
Now in the skys.
Clouds above orphaned ambitions.
Laughter no longer recurring
An atomic bomb of surprise.
Spring awoke like a muffled heartbeat.
A crystal obelisk to Spanish royalty.
Light glimmers on weekends.
Sundays unforgiving
Sanded dollars
Wounded elk
In the sky's of larking shadows.
My eyes open at the possibility.
Stars with broken wings.
Angels with stolen hearts.
The aches of freedom.
pressed to the edge of sanity.
Now in the skys.
Clouds above orphaned ambitions.
Laughter no longer recurring
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