hang me upside down
and see what secrets might fall
out of the pockets
of my soul-
filled now with memories still
unspoken…
and though I long to be free
from this fool’s gold that binds
me so
the wings that would let me fly
are pinned by the heaviness
that the past still holds…
bound now by illusions that weigh me
down
would that i could be the hanged man
and release to gravity that which
blocks love’s flow…
oh what i would give
just to lighten this load! and let my
heart soar into eternity…
Tag: beauty
a soulful tithe
this breathe of mine
that from these soft lips blows
towards you
is lined with a thousand I love you’s
whispered silently
into night…
and this aged head upon which
the white hair of wisdom flows
has grown old
waiting for your next finger’s
touch
and how your body grows, like stars
lit up by adoring eyes-
this longing is but a sweet and
soulful tithe
to gardens flowers and love’s
goodbyes
spots of time
lost to words that dangle
in the air around my eyes
i pull them one by one
down from the ether
and decide how they fit
together
this puzzle of poetry that haunts
my dreams with color and sound,
defining feeling and thought…
how can these hanging words
understand the utterances
of my heart?
oh wordsworth and your spots of time!
would that I also get trapped within
my own reveries under the
sycamore tree of art! i would lose
myself forever
this wondrous bellow of love
and pain…
of darkness and suffering;
how is this human condition
so clearly marked by a universal
language lingering in the sky?
within my heart
i dug a hole…
the soil was so dark and wet
and i could smell the damp earth
as it clung to my fingers, my clothes
my knees…
perhaps someday, I might lie down
inside this muddy hole and let
the world drift by… though i hold no false
hope that i might find peace
should endings be that easy! i could
simply drift into the rain swept sky
releasing myself into the arms of
my own eternity!
alas, i remain here still, covered now
in this musty earth, listening to the slow
drip of time echo within the walls of this hole
that lingers so within my heart
violent and exquisite
alone, with just this downpour of
thought- and thunder! breaking the sky!
i am silent and hopeful, as i try to
remain untouched by the rain that falls
in sheets so heavily upon my mind…
and though the violence of this storm
is blinding, i am ready to cleanse the
heart of that which it has long denied!
deny today, i will not, yet find that which
is more useful to my heart, a cleansing touch
of acid rain to rid this chest of
all that was left behind…
these thoughts of you! may they drown
upon the puddles of my spirit
collected within my mind’s eye…
as the thunder clouds that grow within me
clear your essence from my memory
in a most violent and exquisite way
exposed
this burning ball of energy
in the sky hurts my eyes today-
too bright for my heart to
hold,
too hot for my hands…
my mind sweats at the mere thought
of this heat that would light
my dust filled corners
with cleansing fire and expose me…
utterly
love’s door
love hangs loosely at my door-
the scent of which I can smell
lingering in the air just outside;
and i long to run to it
disappearing within the trails of
soft perfume…
but that my heart is slow to move
for fear of what might hover
near the vulnerable parts of me…
laid bare by love’s intense passion-
my soul’s nakedness may be too much
for my poor heart to endure-
should love’s affection lead to rejection-
my very essence would be destroyed…
so I linger here on the edge of the
doorway-
hoping for a sign of fidelity
that would allow me to pass through
the sweet aroma of love’s call
and find that which is joy within me
silent memos
messages linger upon the dusty waves
of time, without structure or form-
and yet, contain such beauty of meaning
such that to pull one single silent memo
from the air would be to connect with divine…
these invisible notes left by our-selves
to be found when the time is right
and the mood is fine
oh to give my heart over to these wanderings of
wisdom…
what more could i do to open these
ears of mine to see the truth that lingers
just outside my view?
just an echo
empty halls at dawn echo thoughts
back to my heart like a drum
pounding into place all that was
left behind…
sound bouncing off bare walls
these feelings that hover in the distant
places of my soul
would that i grab them in my hand
and within my palm hold them
close so as to understand how they
became just an echo
what will be left of me?
songbirds weave a tapestry of
sound across the morning
as sunlight penetrates the leaves…
a cool breeze lightly tiptoes across
the growing heat
and cars sound as ocean waves flowing…
in the distance dancing with birds are
the trees-
and sirens pepper the landscape
with urgency…
day is breaking on yet another morning-
breath flows within me like a sage
i am no longer living
but rather coming of age…
is there anything that can dull the pain
of slowly dying? at this rate
i will be gone before the songbirds
finish singing
and what will be left of me?
the SIBYL'S SONG 