I ask myself why
Not knowing I’ve never known
Can the silence exist
Though no soul partakes
To let the other side be felt?
And irrational blank spots
To no spell I have listened to.
By my wild eyes
I have come here to exist;
Shall running scenes
Invoke my childishness.
These trees have begun to speak in many languages
To my ears that are listening to silence.
Each time Orion shines, Owl begs for a lover
While my tears dry upon my cheek
– Sap dries upon each tree’s wound,
For no wound is too deep to heal
– Though frost strikes into depths I cannot feel anymore.
Dog enjoys this silence, he hears it all
He hears what I cannot hear
Though my eyes they fight fire with his.
I leave my footsteps alone
And find a new way home, trees lead me there.
This treeline I never made yet live upon every day
Grows against my territory like Winter against Fall,
I have not become used to it
Eagerly entering into the darkened shire
With my heart freely beating against my lips
That keep pace with a dog, yet fearless
And listening to trees lead the way.
Pop art killed me in a thunderstorm
There I sat alone
Silenced by modern lights
Suffocating though I drew breath
Crawling deeper within
To the warmth, warmth found
In the mothership womb
Holding me, straight-arm,
At quite a distance
With mechanical arms
Ragged and worn
Tried all I could
Until flashes of light.
If your answers solved
What mystery remains between lives,
Where would our trial be held?
Where would we lay down our tools
Dear for this unquenched need
To work until our knees are sore
And our feet curl up at the seams
Of our understanding, our dreams,
For they would rust
Lost in a gaze of submission
Caught by the hand that pierces all hearts.
I would be lost
For I compete with a memory
Complete and detail oriented.
I ask not for your question,
I speak not for your silence
I read not for your passage
I hold not for your gift
I growl for your soul
That bites off what it believes it can chew
I snarl for your essence
That rips apart belief structure
And I cry at the foot of all you have become
For I know not how to unbecome
What I had never waited to be.
I’m exhausted underneath
I didn’t expect the gambler
Here I am, an empty hand
Plans for regrowth
For blossoms, for extreme divinity
Reigning down upon the grounds.
I have let grow such vigor,
Wild abandon, wilderness.
I have put it upon the ground,
Walked back ten paces,
Stood aside, silenced myself
And begun to observe
With the patience of a snake
How curious it all looks from here.
Please take the silence out of my morning
Take me towards what I’ve dreamt
For the sand in my eyes reminds me every day
That the cold season is rapidly approaching.
But if the day hasn’t come and darkness still rides
Let me sleep here a little while longer
While the wind isn’t blowing so dangerously
While the pain doesn’t hurt so tremendously
For my senses haven’t yet taken over
In a long line of tin cups and fevers
That keep me hoping the silence stays a moment or two
For me to have a chance to be soothed.
I’m not Gothic, but I’m made for the edge
I sharpen my pencils with one long steel blade
And whisper in darkness to ghosts running around.
There’s still time for me to walk away,
A path where shrunken skulls remind me
Of voices necromancy.
I’m not here for anything but tea, kind Sir,
Help me bring silence
In this sea of raindrops dragging
For my pencils and warm tea.