Moving an old blog and didn't want to lose these, so moving them here. Weird time in my life, so don't ask, lolz...
So I didn't fit into your frame,
of your little picture-perfect display.
A little too obsolescent,
As you had thought.
Maybe 'cause I refused to lie down,
And tolerate your perception.
Maybe a bit too prophetic,
And read into your lies.
Denial doesn't wait,
To claim me anymore.
I would never have fit,
Into your picture-perfect, little obscene world.
Desire to feel,
Disconnected and uninspired.
Embracing no more illusions,
Away from the rhythm of connection,
Away from belonging.
Drawn outside the lines of conformity,
Donning a veil of mediocrity,
Finding solace within a singularity.
Coming curiously closer,
To the edge of conceit,
Coming to find peace,
Within my pitiful hole.
The source is ripe,
With no contention of fear.
Without satellites of character and emotion,
Safe within my hideaway.
Imperceptible remnants of illusion,
Alone in one mind.
Inconceivable doubts of delusion.
Will pass in time.
The way that I see it.
Here we are.
All of us, are basically alone.
Separate creatures, just circling each-other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection.
Some look in the wrong places. Some just give up hope, because in their mind, they are thinking "Oh, there's nobody out there, for me.", but most of us, we keep trying. Trying over and over. Why? Because every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark.
Yes, she may be beautiful and he may be handsome and maybe, that's what they see, at first, but when it becomes love, then that's when two people become "one".
Raise to shed wisps of dreams’ remnants from clouded head.
Find myself alone,
In day’s infancy.
Can’t shake the radiant image left behind,
Follows me through the morning.
Skipping along methodically,
By my side in the warm afternoon sun.
A mad, fervent, drunken jester,
Amusing itself in my miserable company.
Well into the evening.
Reminding me, mocking me.
Bereft of conventional thought,
I am consumed by it’s antics.
I want the grease-painted devil to die.
Crucify the cruel joker.
Spear it in it’s side.
I want to bleed my thoughts.
Exculpate from the arteries,
That feed memories leaching into my dreams.
My mind, a nightly epistle for which the clown stumbles into,
Whispering reminders of what is lost, what can’t be had.
It’s routine entertainment.
Untitled (Work in progress)
Desert babies laughing hysterically.
Mad children dancing in the rain.
Watch the wet souls in rapt amazement.
Washing away sadness from burning skin.
Glowing hearts and gleaming eyes,
Do they see me standing here?
Am I their ghost?
In their periphery.
Do I care?
Should I care?
I think I should.
Born to suffer,
We’re made to wander the wilderness
Looking for a quick release.
A seductive mistress.
Her intentions insoluble.
Dreams, circling each-other languidly, liquidly, sardonically.
Gently they stir, but restrained by mere distance,
There is no connection.
Lost amongst the woodbine.
I have an ancient crucifix around my neck,
Weighing me down, leaving me sardonic.
I am a god of my own creation.
You can not open walls of mystery, from scripture.
A death-well and a cancer of prophecy.
Is there any Hell more horrible,
Than the here and now?
I should start my own religion.
I chase the silver streams of the clouds.
I have no concentration.
I am on the other side of morning.
Stalking the mad children of the Sun.
Watching them dance in the rain.
I lament my mindless thoughts.
You do know that Death smiles at us all?
She is an obese queen.
Her hunger ravenous and she’s never satisfied.
I touched death today and held her blood-crusted hand.
She offered-up her resident mockery.
Taunting and teasing but unwilling to share.
Inclined to partake in her derelict pleasure,
And honor her decree.
She holds cruel bindings.
Perched for death,
Headlong onto the edge boredom.
I am amongst friends,
In the stone garden.
I dance to the psalm of their memories,
A welcome participant, amongst the procession.
The music wraps it’s arms around us,
Like soft cotton remnants of early spring morning.
All hail and witness the lone god of his own creation, dancing with his queen.
Can we reconcile the past,
Escape the relentless jaws of time,
Grinding and gnashing on our aged souls?
Holes in our humility,
Vast and large as ancient river-carved caves.
Hesitation and doubt,
Like dead red fire ants,
Scattered across the desert highway.
No matter where we steer,
There is no avoidance of it’s crushing uncertainty.
Have we forgotten the wisdom of our ancient fathers?
Ignored the learned lessons of time?
A divine mockery of forgotten words.
Lost keys to the kingdom,
Can we sneak our way back in,
Through the back door?
Where is the starling flight that guides our way?
Where are winds for our silken sails?
How pale and wanton,
We are left.
How we indulge in our feast of our famine.
Gently passing by,
Babylon is fading...