Friday, January 28, 2005

as my jasmine tea goes cold...

we live only once
an extraordinary existence
that happens for a single
second of time.
a moment amidst the chaos
of eras
of eons
of ages.
we remain unknown
are uncharted.
so what evil does it cause
to submit-
to escape the insanity
to be purged of self.
at the Peak of sin
where no art-
can bestow vision.


the music must be louder
to block out the
cacophony
of stupidity.


the world is laughing tears
escaping thoughts and magic
individual tunnels crowd
trapped in Shallow's tragic.
crazed from losing God
running from sweet must
Graces that rebell alike
and forgot the means to fuse
theories to explain
mimics rape wiht fear
construct a claim of love
he who only dare.

in the depths of night i call to you
to relieve my weakened pain-
to remove the dull sirens
with a quiet dismissive rain.
in the bowels of this eve i beseech you!
to cease to play that song!
To Heaven! to Earth!
release that vow
you have led me wrong!
the birds are silent now-
nestled in darkened trees
the moonlight is upon my cheek
winds seduce the breeze
all are sedated
as the Lady spins her gace
mockeries gods behold
in this anomoly of fates-
the clocks tick
duest to that tolling bell
the sky is pure and silver
and burns a surest Hell.

i close my eyes in remorseful silence, letting the burens free
immersed in blissful contentment, breathes of false liberty
heavy weighs ambition, inflicting is the Thought
simplicity is unattainable, desires to remain untaught.
Tired feet and empowered mind have finding ways to cure
within the peaks of horizon kissing the lost awaiting shore.
no closure in the beginnings in the carrying self to wear
yet he who lacks hurt shoulders has truly that to fear.

i have gone to many places
and searched myself in reflection
in those teeming crowds
i found only dark eyes
that looked straight ahead.
until i realized
that i was headed there too
and all the scenery passed me
missing
all the holiness
of the daily sun.


if things mean less and you are not a child of blue light
if you sleep easy unrelated
for beauty beauty goes the night.
the caress of a still Self, wher no light seals the air
we risk it all because we live it all
and then perched in the ascending valley
with the abyss amiss
we fall.
time of healing skin grows thick on that tear
the heart may hold more fragments
but the blood knows no fear.


black imprints on the soul do not die-
falsely cease upon this hour in yet another languished cry.
breeds a devoured flesh in a hopeless silent game
laughing still. laughing at the sound of the name-
the words that just cannot forgive
pictures are brighter when history lives.

the child of fire
of passion-
of anger-
birthed by tempest seas
beget by turbulent skies
in teh winds of high destruction
in black rage.
the child of water-
of streams love
of devoted unity-
the arrogance embodied
to relinquish some great
Whirl of light.
some explosive new Self
that will birth God.
the child of dual energies
is high in a sphere of crack
gulping life through the nostril
and sleeping until death.
and with that dead shattering
came a great light
in an energy expressed to fail
of broken intention
from a loss of birth
to escape into blind redepmtion
drops its vitality
within this sphere
in teh realization that
the passion is light.


"nothing else remains that i can do for you- or that will pleasure you. i am sleeping with someone else, but its you I love, dearest to me all. in the name of Aphrodite, i am happy about one thing, that your cloak has been left to me as a pledge. but i flee and permit you expenses of freedom. do you anything you desire. do not strike teh wall it only mkes noise. we will motion to each other; this will be the sign between us." inscription from Sidonian cave- circa 2nd century bce



i went into the city tonight
i was starving and looking for food
i had finished a long penance
a starvation that left me famished.
i went into the city tonight
i found restaurants and eateries
i found bright lights and loud people
and there i stood and looked to eat.
i went into the city tonight
to the color and the noise
deep into the laughing and dancing
i was dying for something to eat...
i went into the city tonight
and came back.
completely parched
no longer looking to eat-
slowly letting the hunger
ebb.



for man to be hid from pains or have the courage to place
the tears wept in open silence with all guts and sheer face
Self lust expand or self hate plummet in either direction
to search in vain for tools of change or die in utter perfection?
to feel the pain in mirrors or shameless palms of blood
unstill and forging endlessly in forgotten pools of mud-
is it truly greater to be blinded by life's grace
or to stab the living eye on a blackened dirty face?




to earth in her purest form-
before the destruction of that ceaseless wave
the rhythmn of too much
yet the sound of too little
'Tis hot
burning with particular passion
holding...
until the clouds succeed in seduction
meeting her in splendor...
retreating...
still unattainable
falling back to indifferent balance
of the desert lover.
she reaches.
flowing through thte air
like a swelling river-
escaping into the depth-
drowning in teh secrets
into the peace and eternal quiet
i am returning to you
great rhythm of birth.

i live in memory-
and have never lived a real day
when all these words mean nothing
because we've never spoken
when all the beautiful poems
are forgotten and lost
in a wasteland of feeling
we are clinging to a past
a failure that is no more
and its easy to live there.
we're wrong now
in this quest for blame
we are in
an emptiness that leaves nothing.


from the drowning depths of muck and mud
rise brilliant light of hope
your tears are caught by angels
who come before him
present those tarnished gift
above the devotion of others.


is this it?
the late night cafes that just sit and sit
in little French bubbles
with cute waitresses
sitting until dawn forces movement
for no reason.
casual flirtations with boredom
because when you sit a whole night
it is possible to smoke the entire existence
by daybreak.
because we're never serious
or we would be admitting too much
and that just wouldn't work
with the pace of schedule.
wiht the way people live here
with the way things end up.
because we all end up wasting our time
because life is so much easier
to handle that way
and at daybreak-
you can find something as worthless
as the coffee
that fuels your day
and wastes your night.


the waters that drown
are the water that build
thousands of bodies
thousands of souls
within sweeping waves
that become existence
that washes a purified world
in long stormy nights
in long soaked days
burst forth to be one
fusion of praising foam
oceans that lift the ark of man
into the blackness
and in the destruction
where beats the great luminary.

and here i sit
reading and rereading
replaying life in a thousand directions
wondering...
if i will ever be right
if i was ever really wrong
it is in the desperation of longing
in confusion of contrasting emotions
that we seek to hold onto something
any binding element of normalcy
and we will sacrifice so much for it.
we do not need to possess some lost talent
or captivate the ears of millions
to be heard.
we need only to listen to a single heart
to know we reflect a greater truth
wihtin a force of wild color
within the sound of some carnival of light
in a universal language of man
that our paper serves not as a stage
but as a platform of justice
as a world of thought and art
we are not all masters of uniqueness
of unknown pathos and suffering
but life
is the breath of all creatures
reflects the image of thousands
and can live in the eyes of all.


1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Like the nature of water
to displace
form and pool
at the behest of some chemical rule
so too our souls
driven hither and yon
seek solace in the foreign pools
when displaced
from whence they have come

Its a delicate trick-
two parts hormones
one part imagination
and a dash of starry eyed idealism
and the logic of reality
comes crashing down
blurring the sight
and changing the season

The dichotomy is stark
upheaval reeling
to do what one knows
or to do what one's feeling
and is it a game?
or is it a feeling
and is it a scar?
or is it a healing
does it numb the pain?
or does it inspire
does it kill the shame?
or does it take you higher

delicate questions
from a delicate place
a tall precipice
a falling from grace
a majestic tumult
magistrate's stern eye
when layers like onions peeled
naked and dry

but all that remains
after all of the acts-
Fills and Surrounds
Expands and Contracts.

5:30 AM  

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