Dear Blog Followers,
I am sorry to inform you that I am leaving Blogger. I love the community here, and I have to say I have never met such nice internet people anywhere else on the web! I will definitely miss you guys.
However, I have been struggling with blogger for weeks now, and there are so many technical glitches that frustrate me and are ruining my creative efforts, that I have made the decision to just not use this site any more. I will probably still come here to read others' poetry, but I won't be able to comment.
If anybody really wants to read any new poetry that I might write (and I'm sure there will be a lot of it, as I can't seem to stop writing!) you can follow me on deviantArt or on my Tumblr.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Weird City
Half the world belongs to music,Color possesses the whole.
Twice as deep as the stars are pale
The complexion of the soul.
Numbers count the alleyways,
Thin lines sum up the streets,
And money wrings the hands and throats
Of everyone it meets.
Weird city of the valley world,
You hide your face in the grass.
You half belong to the magic,
But you let your power pass.
Little boy on the mountaintop,
Dangle your feet above the lights.
Until you grow to understand,
This is how you'll spend your nights.
Draw a circle, mark the maps,
Hear the distant drumbeat swell.
Weird city throw your heart back down;
Forsake another spell.
Twice as deep as the stars are pale
The complexion of the soul.
Numbers count the alleyways,
Thin lines sum up the streets,
And money wrings the hands and throats
Of everyone it meets.
Weird city of the valley world,
You hide your face in the grass.
You half belong to the magic,
But you let your power pass.
Little boy on the mountaintop,
Dangle your feet above the lights.
Until you grow to understand,
This is how you'll spend your nights.
Draw a circle, mark the maps,
Hear the distant drumbeat swell.
Weird city throw your heart back down;
Forsake another spell.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Many Ways to Leave Us
Your hands are vapor now
Borne on the back of the air like scarves
Trailing from the manes of lions
Circus sounds distant, tarnished, like knives
Half-buried in dank, rotting straw;
Clouds pass over, hurried death birds
Come to reap, to work under the moon.
Your hands are hovering
Unreal sonatas steaming from the
Piano keyboard and burning
Away when they touch the sunbeams
That break and enter this parlor.
Stuffed birds, feathers glistening wet
As if alive in flight
In a rainstorm before our eyes.
Your voice is wandering
Deprived of real life but not of thought.
Overwhelming in its beauty
As are the faces that bring tears
To the once-blind eyes of a healed man.
Awe was never an adequate response
To your now disengaged power in words.
Your heart is beating still
Life support in the lines of ancient,
Sighing ink; its parchment its deathbed,
Awaiting the heaven of those
Oblivious future children
Who never knew you could have died.
The words that fall from your lips one last time
Will be an era's obituary.
Of all the tortuous ways to leave us
Why did you have to torture us with
The one human immortality?
Borne on the back of the air like scarves
Trailing from the manes of lions
Circus sounds distant, tarnished, like knives
Half-buried in dank, rotting straw;
Clouds pass over, hurried death birds
Come to reap, to work under the moon.
Your hands are hovering
Unreal sonatas steaming from the
Piano keyboard and burning
Away when they touch the sunbeams
That break and enter this parlor.
Stuffed birds, feathers glistening wet
As if alive in flight
In a rainstorm before our eyes.
Your voice is wandering
Deprived of real life but not of thought.
Overwhelming in its beauty
As are the faces that bring tears
To the once-blind eyes of a healed man.
Awe was never an adequate response
To your now disengaged power in words.
Your heart is beating still
Life support in the lines of ancient,
Sighing ink; its parchment its deathbed,
Awaiting the heaven of those
Oblivious future children
Who never knew you could have died.
The words that fall from your lips one last time
Will be an era's obituary.
Of all the tortuous ways to leave us
Why did you have to torture us with
The one human immortality?
Friday, June 3, 2011
Wistful
Feeling wistful, said the empty spaces.
And light and leaf shadow sat still and they waited.
I know you want me, but I just can't reach you, so I'm
Feeling wistful, said the light on the walkway.
I am invisible, I said with little breath.
And I'm feeling silent and forlorn, lonely and
Wistful for my burden to be borne.
I could succumb to this restful, this peaceful,
Sedate and serene anticipation... but this will
Never happen while I am waiting. Never can it happen that I
Will step into the light that falls so brashly and so softly.
So I'm feeling wistful, waiting, Feeling wistful, waiting.
Feeling wistful, said the empty spaces.
And I and my shadow comprise these empty spaces.
And light and leaf shadow sat still and they waited.
I know you want me, but I just can't reach you, so I'm
Feeling wistful, said the light on the walkway.
I am invisible, I said with little breath.
And I'm feeling silent and forlorn, lonely and
Wistful for my burden to be borne.
I could succumb to this restful, this peaceful,
Sedate and serene anticipation... but this will
Never happen while I am waiting. Never can it happen that I
Will step into the light that falls so brashly and so softly.
So I'm feeling wistful, waiting, Feeling wistful, waiting.
Feeling wistful, said the empty spaces.
And I and my shadow comprise these empty spaces.
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