Holes into nothing
And this is where I end.
Dropping as I awaken,
Say it again,
I didn’t hear you all the same.
And if I wake up
I am left to break up.
Minor chord progressions,
Like my heart,
It is the same song all the same.
Footsteps into distance
As my heart beats into resistance,
Does music still go on?
Is there an echo,
After all, it’s my memory all the same.
I’m not quite sure the song,
Ending of no name.
Alone and upturned,
Grass in white snow.
Yet all around was soul,
Spinning in mid-winter foul.
Owls at twilight
Memories in dancing firelight.
This is the song I’ve never sung,
A lonely tree in the meadow
My faith watching it snow.
Because something isn’t clearing my fog,
And I’ve done up my boots too tight,
And the bridge is falling to it’s knees,
And some will cry as I’m walking on by.
But count out blessings in a well worn palm
With two bluejays resting a while,
Strange mountains silence is broken
And darkness slowly lifts as awareness shifts
Back into what I’ve never left.
My Siren’s song was loud and clear,
Rung straight into my heart so dear.
A melody of which I knew
I had no choice as matters grew.
Little by little I worked into
My heart the song I’d sing till blue,
The golden Lady of the land
A Siren and I, hand in hand.
But as my Siren grew in me,
I lost all duty to thyself.
My eyes were slowly closed,
Hands soon swoll, toiled and blue.
She knew I had so much to give
Until at last this heart would burst
Upon the seams she so wove with
Melody so long, her Siren song.
She, however, would not let go –
Clutching, bloody, my heart would grow.
Until, at last, all writhing stilled,
My heart: milled, song: chilled.
I, I am so beautiful
Land floating on a wing
Sun shares a sweet song
I, I am so beautiful
Mind here at your feet
Shelter in my arms
I, I am so beautiful
Beginning in warm sand
Off into light wind
I, I am so beautiful
Growth upon my limb
Cycles of this land.
Where are my eyes,
The sad fellows singing heart songs
Along icy Nordic roads
To the beat of thump thump thump –
Hard footsteps to control
As solid Mother Earth
Shuts down her blooming
To awaken the underbelly of life
That slowly crawls in vein-like formations
Through all things
Dead or alive.
Where are my eyes
That I have not let sing
But needlessly fret over wrinkled sheets,
Ignoring the awakening world
In a thin veiled frost,
Laid out as if the spine of her neck
Were strangely tingling
Alerting her of tragedy.
Where are my eyes?
Left my memories
On an empty bank today
Singing an old song
And my heart bleeds on
Turned to a broken arrow
Shot through the dark
Loosely wrapped with a
Half written love letter
Leather upon my wrists
Empty and holding it tight
Got a wing on my mind
Baby, I’m doing just fine.
Wizards are taking turns cracking whips at higher shelves,
A lost umbrella serves as a dusty stepping stone.
When did he ever know his heartache?
A landslide, at the base looking up standing tall.
Can the old boys help anybody now,
Since there’s a guardian knocking all them down?
There’s a wild side whenever anybody’s holding on,
Take a look now, tomorrow’s rhythm of any song.
Inner ambition’s little sister came to say hi amongst terrible rubble.
She cried big elephant tears until socks upon giants grew ears.
Dusty sorts, way up there, but important bits reside beyond the whip,
Enough so, that a lazy angel has taken it to be her resting place.
Leather bound and locked without a lock.
Page four houndred and seventy three.
A road as a passing song
Carried our fearless warrior on,
Deep as a jungle far
A dusty trail,
Hidden but not gone.
When the road turns its wiles away
Heavy hearts jump and start to say:
“Adventure is this that we have,
One and all, to journey’s end!”
So press on forth
Deepness within,
Make passion journey’s begin.
I am the elegant sign you’ve been off the deep end for.
Hanging on a railing, dipping into clear lakes,
Walking with the scent of sun-kissed-yellow tulips.
Trouble is a memory; blind leading, a road and I have faith.
Can you get a wild feeling on bad betting machine?
Sing songs with a quite tongue and I will listen for.
And it is here and I am evermore.
A spell of clear reflections of which I did implore.
And I stand here, just as morning, dripping for you.
