| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/2/2009 11:41:25 AM | forces me to put my disguise on
always wanting to keep the illusion
but knowing everybody can see
what's real and what's imaginary....
except here in this cyberspace kingdom
alone we reveal what we wish with freedom
hoping at least some of these fish have no reason
to show a false side of their fins....
of course we're all guilty of many sins
but behind each profile and poem
is not just a projected vision
but really a whole person....
if only they would just let us in | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/2/2009 1:45:31 PM | if only they would just let us in
true, however
false security isn't for me
if hang ups convince them to back away
they aren't for me
i'm not into people that need to be begged
cajoled, anguished over...
too many decent people with heads on straight
and don't we all deserve that?
 | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 10:38:42 AM | don't we all deserve that?
don't we all deserve this?
shouldn't we all be happy
in this world that's amiss?
trying to chill with some ethos
seems most folks have long lost their nerve
Im happy for what i've been given
'stead of what i probably deserve
Hey juju, miss ya! | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 11:45:13 AM | what i probably deserve
is living yet another round
living without nerve
has left my ego chained and bound
I want to cast off fear
but life has made me look around
Oh, failure does come dear
even if courage can be found
so life will force a change
and choices to be made surround
will I dissolve my chains
before my life becomes hidebound
I can't remain the same
this limbo will run me aground
my spirit will be lamed
vitality and hope will drown
and so I send a plea
to universe wise and profound
my hearts desire to me
the ripples of my wish resound | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 11:56:31 AM | The ripples of my wish resound
with the bells of Sunday morning.
Dew hanging in heavy curtains
muffles it's sound
Walking along a silent street
snap shots taken in my mind
one shot at a time
Tomorrow won't look this way
a present I give to myself today
every day is different
every day a new set of pictures | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 12:26:11 PM | the ripples of my wish resound
the wind rising hot from the alleys
the spirit lifting like a banner
streaming free in the breeze with no walls
we are gourged with unshapened dreams
fully laden with new beginnings
there is hope, though the pasts not sweet
just a day past the taste of blood
emerging from the blowing dust
scattering rose petals upon the old deaths
the wind rising hot from the alleys
firing the oven of our souls
sorry sunshine, nice poem brizo. ignore me and look up. | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 12:35:40 PM |  thanks!
I took the liberty of fusing...but the subject matter isn't very pleasant, sorry...
every day a new set of pictures
firing the oven of our souls
my god, my eyes
to witness suffering
warm and fed
in my safe country
and know that others
wet and hungry
brokenhearted
search for others
in the rain
mudcovered
dead | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 1:30:48 PM | that was rather dark, but hey, it is what it is
in the rain, mud covered dead
what can i do but uncomb my dread
for as we all know, the masses aint fed
stare up at a worlds wrinkled smiles
the huddled warmth of the crowd
hope for something from above the cloud
where no one gets nuthin unless their loud
the fat sit surfin' their dials
if you want your soul and know where your bound
and avoid endless loops of whats lost and found
then the time has long past to head underground
where there aint no tweeters or cell phones
beneath the ground like a lost mole
content and forgotten in his lost hole
awaiting the moment for the bell's final toll
neath a pile of tree roots and lost stones | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 4:27:06 PM | neath a pile of tree roots
and lost stones
at last i have found
my lost home
in the comfort of nature
under the tree
i found what i lost
i found me
a moment passes
like a day
floating so gently
with nothing to say
beating to natures
lovely song
i want the day to last
my whole life long
(joro...your dark stuff is good...and your last post is a song!!) | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/3/2009 11:42:33 PM | my whole life long
my heart's been sad
if we are so good
then why are we bad?
why do we hurt each other so much
when we know we can heal with just our touch?
why do we jump to yell, shout and scream
when we hold the key to a divine kingdom?
why do we treat our world the worst
never fulfilling our material thirst?
we lie, cheat and steal
then blame the game for our poor deal
when some come along
saying none of it's real
but then if that was the case
what's the point of being here in the first place?!
my heart twists and turns
for the freedom it yearns
my soul cries as it learns
sometimes love really burns
| |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 12:06:59 AM | Sometimes love really burns,
it sets a fire within the flesh,
it consumes everything I am,
till there is nothing left,
can't eat, can't sleep,
can't see, anything that reminds me,
anything with a familiar scent,
can only cause another descent,
this fire trumps water,
burns everything in it's path,
this fire grows hotter,
my flesh will not last. | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 1:26:59 AM | my flesh will not last
growing weary and tired
youth has long passed
Children no longer sired
Lust stirs fires kindling
Embers burn slow and languid
Youth's passion strips seared flesh
Turn cool liquid kisses to mist
Crinkled gateways damp
Swollen with unshared memories | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 10:05:00 AM | Swollen with unshared memories
under the cover in darkness
release from daily stress pending
the starkness of fantasy unfolds
sending streams of possible life to its death
soaking into the sheets of slumber
breath gone short from euphoric pain
numbers erupt like volcanic rain
cold hard facts wash down the drain
polished steel devoid of rust
innuendo crossed with trust
seeks to disguise a carnal lust
we all know how the story ends
a sip of water quenching dry mouth
relaxation evolving into sleep | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 11:43:18 AM | relaxation evolving into sleep
desire melting into a dream
releasing the leash of the barking dog
sliding into the slipstream
a carpet ride on the easy side
concerns ceasing to burn
joining the worm on the underside
of a shady and delicate fern
let me go behind the show
curtains drawn for the while
refreshment now is all I know
do you wonder why I smile
light as a feather in the nether
field of heather neath my head
the aroma of soma puts me in a coma
as I dream of your feathery bed | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 12:37:00 PM | as I dream of your feathery bed
your shoulder there to rest my head
feel your arms hold me closely
as we stay awake, mostly,
spending the night in sensual delight
where our bodies repeatedly take flight
for lust and passion are not just attraction
but a sacred energy of intimacy
where two completely become one body
letting down any wall or boundary
feeling our unity from deep within
where nothing is hidden
and compassion can open
so love can blossom again | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 2:19:42 PM | so love can blossom again
and fly away free from the boughs of the hemlock
down to the ground
listening to the cry
of wild turkey
or was it a cry
against the twilight itself
or was it against the leaves
twisting in the wind
falling as the flames
turn all things to fire
turning on thier tails
running from the fire
screaming loud like hemlocks
screaming like wild turkey
out the window
watching planets gather
and the leaves turn themselves
colors in the wind as the night came
striding in the color of heavy hemlocks
feeling afraid
remembering the cry of wild turkeys
(aside from camping in autumn in new england where we have no shortage of wild turkeys, i havent the faintest idea what this means) | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 2:44:08 PM | remembering the cry
Wild Turkey
mud in your eye
disguised as whiskey
the swill filled their need
until tomorrow's cry
oh... my head
I wish I was dead
hair of the dog looks like turkey feathers
[Someone says wild turkeys and I remember the neighbourhood drunks drinking a cheap whiskey by that name ... and I don't want to know what that means either.] | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 4:05:29 PM | Hair of the dog looks like turkey feathers,
I am not familiar with this breed of heresay,
Pondering the words before me,
Does no good,
I have no idea what to make of it,
Lost without words is a lonely place to be. | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 4:47:20 PM | Lost without words
is a lonely place to be
exiled from your heart
I can see the cold wind blow
from the ice in your eyes
as the stranger leases space | |
|
| |
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/4/2009 8:04:51 PM | where love should be
a glass sits half empty
when love arrives it will become half full
I pull the string
no bell rings
just silence
across the street some litter blows
dust devils dancing to the unknown
big brother water spout on the lake
occarionally scaring small boaters
takes a break to bask in the sun
while a lonely gull soars
thinking there must be more
though wouldn't it be better to use what we've got
instead of chasing shadows of dreams
bought from a late night infomercial
observed from lack of love | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/5/2009 12:04:49 AM | observed from lack of love
we fill our hearts with cold blue blood
and in the sky flies not the white dove
for dark clouds are gathering above
blocking the bright warm light of the sun
while the rain beats down on everyone
washing the make-up from the clown
soaking our souls as well as the ground
we stop looking up and just look down
no smiles are sought while we all frown
observed from the lack of love | |
|
| |
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/5/2009 7:53:16 PM | observed from the lack of love
is the objective view of the sinner
not lost in the mist of twisted myths
making not the mistakes of the beginner
but hard to follow the echo rings hollow
looking through or past baby's eyes
the lack of magic is tremendously tragic
such sadness disguised as wise | |
|
| First Line, Last Line (Part Deux)
Posted: 10/5/2009 9:56:39 PM | such sadness disguised as wise
Is heard in angry cries
Demanding mended fences
Break down all defenses
Dig up the masks and costumes
If I hide pry into my catacombs
bones and spirit and soul spill out
Will you be filled with much doubt?
Deserving you, precious you
Can you ever be true? | |
|
Home
login 
