Beautiful lines
Caress my pages –
Align my moments
With mysterious sages,
Which leaves me sitting
Amidst my cages
Wondering devilishly
Where art thy key?
Category: fantasy
River
A
I’m a mighty river
G
Blowin’ down today
F
The sky she seen me
G
My emptiness so cold
So she let er rain
All night till I drowned
Soaked every tree and shrub
Clung to my banks of rock
I roar with my head high
Every cold, cold black night
No need to set me loose
I am no eagle cry
Long ago my destiny
Was carved into the earth
Mountain streams far away
Come to me so cold
Ungracefully Lacking
Insight has lost its worth
For it no longer blesses thy journey;
It is a burden, a hex,
Pointedly accusing
And draining all chai.
How often does it rain?
Even cold grass
Does not sprout green
For it has lost its vision,
Quest departed long ago
Sun turned into mold.
Gravel roads
And sombre trees
Who no longer speak;
Dormant, sleeping, away
Unto this vision
Cold and ungracefully lacking.
Gold and What’s Glistening
When I heard softness
I knew heartness
I crawled and I creeped
Dotted lines and peaks
Covered the streets
Until I found the last
Of a thing I had past
Which began orobus
And did I remain
Lost in sweet rain?
Softening and listening
Gold and what’s glistening.
Wallow
Wallow in my joy
Until I can no longer escape
The expanse of your forgiveness
That opens each door
In waves of euphoria
And beckons with a coiled finger
The turning of the day
Into a sphere of love
And rotating memory.
Eleven Seconds
Don’t install me in an ambient
I want kaleidoscope
Forgive me in an understanding
That I’m yet to come upon
This could have been my memory
Shaken from the slope
Dropping little apple
Fallen from the tree
Whisper late night
And be me and both again
For beginning with the smallest cloth
I woke up
And eleven seconds.
Devilry
I am my own frustrations
For there is no seperate
What I see
I believe
And become
So lookout.
I ride the borealis
With wild eyes and spitfire
A demon
In my heart
Runs wild
Late at night.
Now vegabonds
Now miscreants
Now misdeeds
And devilry
Now laughter
Now chaos
And discover
Who we are.
Between The Lines
I miss the nights
That line up
In the new part of an old city
Where street lights feel like rain
On cooler summer night
And my homeward spin
Takes me from a warm crowded room
Onto cobblestones
That echo from my engine
Roaring to life
In spite the effort
I have put
Into making the right moves
And swaying between the lines.
Trinkets and Lace
My view is distorted by lace and flowers
That have begun to wilt and burn
But the lace remains timelessly
Arched upon the bow
That keeps the clouds, so heavily
From my memory
And takes me back to a house I knew
Down Coppers Lane, remains.
I still smell the ancient windowsills
So beautifully exposed cedar wood
Grains like driftwood at the shore.
This pleasure reminds me
How much needed it is
To carry trinkets for the river.
Inner Heart
Cold pangs of my inner heart
Have wildly swung amidst this wind
Clanging loudly against
Metallic edges of home
Where doors have been hung.
To aid my truth voice
In a song of no-mans-land,
I’ve wrapped my steel blades
In a leather sheath
To keep my quivering hand
From starting in a blur.
But pangs in message
– A lonesome call beyond forest’s wild –
Share what can never be drafted,
For a dove doth always take flight
Though eye’s embrace
Captures feverishly each beating wing
Against late mornings glow.
There doth echo
Memory once laid
And dreams yet played
For in a forgotten breath
A clang, a pang,
A caress of death
Deeply embraced
Amidst this inner heart.