Seperatism loses me
It’s a lost art
Guided by a nobody train
And nobody to sing
Nobody has sung.
I look into your eyes
And I see missing
I see wallowing sorrow
And a stained glass window
Echoing a cold statue
With angel wings
Sainted.
We can be friends
But I wont ask to meet you there
Instead
Walking alone
Listening to nothing more
Than each voice inside my head.
Tag: art
Mastery (day 2964)
Witnessed
And abruptly shot
Ministry of pain
And society of lust
Consumed and obeyed
Falling evermore for trust
Reason and Science
Brothers made from different dust
Elevation
And a mastery of art
Anger and confusion
To each to gather as they must
Art of War (day 2916)
I made love in a hurricane
I tied shoes to a running bull
I sang songs in a cemetery
I drank beers underground
I walked on rope over running water
I flew high then had to come down
I raced fast on a singletrack
I woke up in the dead of night
But I never
Fell asleep
In the Art of War
String (day 2738)
I am not art
For I blow with the wind
And my gentle
Abandonment
Excuses me from
Deliberation
And for you
I carry a string
Most Likely Chance (day 1922)
Who’s got that hat on the floor?
Someone’s burning at the other end
Smoke trails and it’s begun
For the last of the cobblestones have shattered
Into night’s mystery, coo-coo, coo-coo.
Though one long sidewalk dance
Let it be called a clean romance
Cigarette’s burning down some more
Her eyes still singing forever in implore.
Judged like the colour of pure milk
A canvas rolled into the corners ilk
While every patron danced around the room,
Spilled wine and tossed off shoes
And pearls upon every hearted romance,
As art, given at most likely chance.
Hanging Art (day 1584)
Hammer
Re-hammer
Level
Awake Art (day 1583)
This is my awake art.
This is breath and stretching loudly
While pouring everything strong
Into a collapsed set of lungs
To be prepared for an avalanche
Of oncoming strategies
And cross-hooks
Set to dazzle
Even the most magnificent of
Gentleman preachers
Standing atop
Wooden keg soapboxes.
Saving Grace (day 1441)
Movement arts can break my heart
Shifting me forever more,
Until sun comes to warm my fun
With a source of everlasting.
But even then, in spite my reign,
I spit out glowing embers
That shatter reason and
Break peaceful truths,
Leaving the middle road
A piece of saving grace
I dare not tread to lightly.
Don’t Have to Get Elsewhere (day 1024)
My baby’s the kind of sex
I don’t have to get elsewhere
To her I run and I hide
Inside every desire to me
My baby’s the art of performance
She’s a changing rhythm, time
And I’m right in it
Leading the orchestration
My baby’s the whispering winds
Coming to me at all angles
In the evening hours she whispers
In the daylight hours she screams
Sad Letters at Long Lasts Door (day 1023)
Did my letters long convince your soul
That all was lost amongst our hearts?
Pleasure drained upon the floor
And my eyes sore, my eyes are sore.
Balance shifted which throws me off.
What once was art is burning hearts
To leave me scarred, aghast; true horror.
And my eyes sore, my eyes are sore.
Like laughter in wicked eyes of crows,
It shelters me not, my sorrow cloak.
And fill my heart with dust and sand
And my eyes sore, my eyes are sore.
To wake again my soul at long last,
To deliver my forgiveness upon deaths door.
You were never mine, but I cared evermore.
And my eyes sore, my eyes are sore.
