Sorrows Past

Aching memory,
Vast and old,
Cherished family,
Casks of gold,
Sacred tombs where
Mortals rest,
Flowers wither on
Sacred breast,
Sobbing winter,
Dry leaves fall,
Colors splinter
accross the hall,
Where faded glory,
Songs of sorrow,
Dance and mingle,
Dawn tomorrow,
But tonight we
Are the dance,
In a melancholy trance,
And on our cheeks,
The tears are blood,
Pained by memr'ys
Aching flood
Vast and old,
We lose our souls,
Wither away,
And sing our song,
Alone at lost,
For far too long.

Numb

Everything bland,
Everything debased,
Everything gray.

Blistering Hate

I am angry and I hate myself,
I twist my insides all day long,
I am knotted, bruised and torn,
I wriggle, cacophonous voices yearn,
I shudder, shaken, dripping wet,
Drowning in my intellect,
I wander, roam and weep inside,
And stand, blurry, fake and dazed,
I seeth with rage til midnight comes,
Then I sink again into despair,
I pity all and none beside,
Yet I never seem to learn.

Blizzard

I am Blizzard,
I am Rain,
I wash the world,
And scream again,
I consume all the sorrows past,
And within,
Cosmos,
Vast, lost, windswept steel,
Riding on a broken wheel,
I'd give anything to feel,
I hate and I cry, I scream and I die,
And then I am reborn again,
I smile and I sigh,
Softly will I sing,
Heartily laugh,
Dance with joy.
I am Blossoms,
I am Spring.

The World

"The greatest mystery is not that we have been flung at random between the profusion of matter and of the stars, but that within this prison we can draw from ourselves images powerful enough to deny our nothingness."
-Andre Malraux

Sweet Destination

"Here lurks no Treason, here no envy swells,Here grow no damned grudges, here are no storms,No noise, but silence and Eternal sleep"

-Titus Andronicus, in the tomb of his fallen sons

Orchid Reign

Teardrops whisper through night's sky,
White, the Orchid doth reply,
Wonders question knowing why,
Mortals stumble, fall and die,
Upon the kiss of sudden's bloom,
With noble flair and woven loom,
Heroes feast in sorrow's tomb,
Waxing on of treach'rous doom,
A tapestry of passion's flame,
Born of ancient worldly fame,
Halls of spirit, speak thy name,
Meander through a faeries game,
Drama of a mighty king,
Courtly love a hidden thing,
Thy heart soars by magic wing,
Above which the Angels Sing!

Downward

I thrash and sing,
Don't feel a thing.
I riddle in a jumbled world,
Drowning in my thoughts,
I witness as the joke unfurls,
Downward in inkblots.

Everything

Bliss, ever present,
Wind blowing,
Smiles,
Dancing, songs,
Light playing on swaying branches,
Stipple-patterns on water,
Seasons changing,
Tears,
Savage pain,
Opinions, judgements,
Chattering minds,
Chirping, howling, animal screams,
Laughter,
Feeling,
Love.

Weaponry

The War on Terror rages. Powerful forces protect us from harm. We desire safety, and ease. But it goes too far. Nothing challenges anymore, there is no fear. Respect, audacity, Mystery and trembling have all fallen to commodity culture and Home Security Systems. Plato used to fear Art, for it was a powerful force in society; a challenging, mighty weapon. No longer. Art is now a coffee-table decoration, a trinket with blinking lights and moving parts, of which the question "What does it do?" now seems more appropriate than "What does it say?".

Green

I am cooking in my juices,
And I cannot find my way,
I am slicing up some bruises,
On a Moony Sort of Day,
With my Ego on my shoulder,
And my Id upon my knee,
I can hate just like a boulder,
Let it go and I am free.

Mirror

Reflecting me,
Mirror,
Outshining me,
Mirror,
Enveloping me,
Mirror,
Embracing me,
Mirror,
You are my,
Mirror.

Kiss

This kiss is eternal,
Ephemeral,
Here and now,
Gone again,
It is a fleet flicker,
A true mirage,
Soft and precious,
Unbound,
It cannot be preserved,
Captured,
Duplicated,
Recorded,
Measured or weighed.
It is free,
And it gives us
freedom.

Elements

I scent the air and it surrounds me,
I love the way you hold your head,
I touch the sky and it confounds me,
You are my daily bread.

I kiss the stone and it forgets me,
I love the softness of your skin,
I hug the earth and it begets me,
You are my soul's way in.

I swim the waves and they swallow me,
I love the strength in your bone,
I wrap up warm, but chills follow me,
You and I are alone.

I feed the fire and it scorches me,
I love the heat within your soul,
I breathe in and make the torches free,
You are what makes me whole.

Only You

Sweet lilacs grow,
Perfume the air,
And in the morning's dew,
Sing songs you know,
And travel where,
Your Love seeks only you.

Meaning

I'm feeling pretty purposeless today. How do so many people cope with lack of direction and a sense of meaninglessness in their lives? The postmodern society we live in allows the ultimate freedom of expression and creativity, but does so at the expense of clarity of purpose. People question why religious fundamentalism is so popular today, and that, to me, is the answer. It's a genuine comfort to have a unified, clear purpose, even if the ends of that purpose are not justifiable.

Since I refuse to entertain that option, I have thus far been doomed to wander between interests, paralyzed by so many possible viewpoints and options for action. There are so many theories, causes, beliefs and opinions available to me, I have become numb to my own internal compass. I can't tell what's right or wrong in most cases. Hell, I can't even tell the difference between pleasure and pain sometimes. What do I like? What do I want? What makes me happy? What SHOULD I like, want, be happy with? Does anyone care?

Sweet

There is a sickly sweet feeling, a kind of syrupy coating to reality. It is filled with terror, sharp as razors, and yet bouncy soft in places, at times. Things are too bright and hard outside, too dull and squirmy inside. Intellectualizations buzz around my head, clouding everything in a cacophany of interior monologue. And yet deep, at the core, is a howling, shuddering silence.

Descent

Seeking with my hidden eyes,
Happy wiles and foetid lies,
Crooked looks and corn-fed dreams,
Nothing is as nothing seems,
Curses, spoken,
Feelings broken,
I am the last,
It goes so fast,
And inside razors play their game,
And nowhere do I make my name,
Nausea is my hidden king,
Uneasy, anxious, everything.
The heroes are all getting old,
The story will remain untold,
Of a world worth all the strife,
Of a place that's filled with life,
Of a time cut by a knife,
Of the last true man and wife.
Of the last true man and wife.

Mysterium Tremendum III

Today, I found a strange and beautiful creature. It was clear and diaphenous, scintillating with a faint violet and white light. It floated by my mind. I reached for it, but was too slow, and it floated away. I was too slow, and it floated away. It floated away.

Missing

I am missing,
My soul, burning,
Yearning for presence,
Pleasant silence.
I am missing,
My life, swirling,
Hurling forward lost,
Tossed in the sea.
I am missing,
My blossom, fragrant,
Payment for my sins,
In the world.
I am missing,
You.