Art, emotion, life
How the aging world mock,
The new as weak,
Whilst the old lay fallen,
On paths the young never seek,
Is it mystery when the thespians
Feels vacant and so weep,
To know they build kingdoms
But not a brick can they keep.
That everything held dear,
Shall be lost to those eyes;
Life won in the mud,
Now lost to the skies,
It’s the way of the world,
And every hour has her time,
The copper in the end,
Was gold in it’s prime.
If I could
Split myself
In two pieces
Of anarchy
Which part
Would you claim
The desert
Or tsunami.
I have left the race,
Now that the finish line is near,
Another track beckons me,
It’s my hooves you see,
Urging, urging, on each step endlessly,
Clip clop, clip clop, clip clop, clip clop;
Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.
They smile no longer as they used to
These eyes I mean
Those lips have dried long ago
Fallen far away
Into a different world, a different time,
When not all darkness was black, and not all brightness was white,
A different world, a different time.
They no longer see as they used to
These hands I mean
Those eyes have closed long ago
Tears set them free,
And now all they feel is the roughness of life
Sunlight as sandpaper,
Moonbeams, as knife.
They no longer live as they used to,
The dead I mean
Forever in motion
Reaching nowhere at all,
And now all they wish is the cause of quietness
Which they fear if ever,
One may hear, after all.
I talk of towns that do not exist,
I write of days I could not resist,
Far too failures,
I carry along
Who would sing it
If no one remembers the song.
I pledged to be a parrot,
Not long ago to this day,
To be a sword in someone’s hand, to be shoes under another’s feet,
To walk when told to walk, to run when told to retreat,
Nothing comes of bravery, if in facing fear we see the failure of others.
Are we so void,
That only after devouring the world’s very bones can we be sated,
If so then know,
This is a massacre and not a banquet,
And your soul as all souls shall one day decay,
Into the aftertaste you now cherish.
The mountains I see now,
Cleaving the sky,
Why do they weep,
Oh why do they weep?
Were these stones now holding the roots of earth, once men of love, laughter and guile,
Are these flowers kissing the sunlight’s skin;
Children, stilled to never smile,
Will the rain in her pain answer,
Will the wind in her wails find,
Have we lost our will to live,
Or at last do know our mind.
This is a cause to cry.
“If I set you free,
You shall see,
The world that is,
Devoid of me,
And then the more you pray,
The less I will say,
For you have chosen a path,
Which is not my way”
This story tells of a hypocrite,
Not much to lose, too much to fight,
For ways never given away
Free, for us to be at ease,
And burn the flags upon these ships
That hoards, and onboard sets us free,
Free to eat the salt, free to drink the sea,
To meet our homeless families
In far kingdoms we will never see
Anchored away to bones of past
On this journey we would never last
And the shores, in the end would find
Us as mannequins without a mind
And the tears shall speak it’s fall:
We had found something but lost it all;
For the price of priceless memory
We sold our will to slavery
For the price of priceless memory
We sold our will to slavery…
I awake to another moon,
When beauty slips,
Underneath,
The grey haze,
Parted by fire,
Of your lips, and the poison,
That draws out,
My mind,
Deep into the forest,
Of charred oaks, and opaline streams
Near flowers purple,
Where you smile, as a shadow,
Soft in it’s sweater,
Forever unseen,
Now, forever unseen.
Answer me, Icarus.
Was it hubris that failed your wings,
That fateful day of long,
And let free such anguished wails,
That every bard held it’s echo for a song,
“Behold here, tis where Icarus fell,
Alone, as a sliver of star,
Who aimed for the sun one day,
But never reached even half so far.”
Answer me, Icarus,
What did you try to seek in the sun,
Was it one color, a different light,
Or desire to quietly burn,
To fall far off into the sea,
And flower somewhere deep,
And witness the layers of life;
As a man as awake as asleep.
Of all the world’s fair faces,
I envy your lifeless, smiling chrysalis,
For it’s cold, sapphire sight, searing far into the night,
Like dry forest afire,
Whose ash on your wan lips,
Is as good as tears in rain;
Void and false of pain,
Whilst your hair, long, unbound,
Waves as sea without the sound,
And for every breath you take,
Spits blood, bone and bile,
And stay stained the age old smile,
Of the victor’s fate and untamed pride,
Death’s glory: this last ride,
For which, even the heroes cried,
For which the Gods too died.
