The withered shoot will desiccate, The sickly sapling coruscates Luxuriant and loved a while With tender fondness, as a child Who loves its greenness but abates. It's not enough to briefly sate The wandering eye's need with spates Of evanescent, dying smiles; Grow up, for love won't reach the dead. The sturdy tree we designate As worthy, and determinate Not on those weeds without the guile Or otherwise tenacious style To grow from their own lands their fate. Grow up, for love won't reach the dead.
Month: August 2021
A need is only worth so much
A need is only worth so much; It has a value one must touch. And, finding one's not worth the cost In severed lines, in maelstroms lost, Needs make one recognize his crutch. The poison flowing from the ducts, The poison bleeding from the cuts, Is liable to get you tossed. The price is steep, and one is weak. If ever found in quicksand sucked Beneath insanity or clutched By helplessness, the hidden frost Will choke you first; when dread exhausts The one who never sought it such, My price is steep and I am weak.
A fool in search of love from anywhere
A fool in search of love from anywhere Can always trick himself into a care; Is likely such a sap he'd fall for you, And fancy that he found himself so true A love materialized from thin air. Infatuation and a lonely stare, You surely aren't taken unaware By deedless words, a yearning boy's ague; Take care returning lonesome lovers' cues. I'd never blame you should you search for snares; You're right expecting that the sails could tear. It's safer seeing with a skeptic's skew; For you could pick a stranger passing through To do whatever i could do more fair. Take care returning lonesome lovers' cues.
A bounty on my head, and brine
A bounty on my head, and brine Surmounting conchblown elegies Ahead where drawn's the hellish whine. Resounding dawns of dread unease Endowed upon cliffshelves and salt, On eddies calm and felling seas. The bounds of haunting, bed of fault, The pounding on the cell and screams, The bed that's gone which dwells in vaults. I'm found a pawn left dead in dreams And ground to squandered shells and sand; The edges on the mellow streams; And now the longing shreds the hands Around the wrongs that fed demands.
Constant nightmares
Constant nightmares, yet their pulling Shackles–daunting, vicious, spiteful, Full of pacts and bonds of sorrow– A delightful null of actions; Haunting quite, yet also lulling. Soon the cull will heighten on the Day I lack more mulling flights of Ponderous inaction; sullied Might long gone; a manufactured Strength; a hulled-out, frightened non-thing. Fondly might I choke in gulfs of Hack positions; on a tightened, Miserable racking onto Right out dull rat-racing packed in Haunted nights if pulled by waking. Pulled from blighted, monstrous living Acted in my skull, it might be A delight, the fact of bondage; Sad the plight and want, but cracked once Sultry sunlight wakes all, yawning. Condemnation lights refulgent Lanterns backing future sites and Days of vultures, black-winged, gauntly Fighting; stultifying tasks of Squandered sight of hopefulnesses. Full of tightening and long hours Wracked by dullness and delighting, Conning, acting for indulgence Right? Consumers jack my future And my soul; I'd rather sleep on.
Sleeping everyday for more than
Sleeping everyday for more than Twelve hours keeps my wits away, at Core, themselves annihilated; Heaped; decaying in their store of Velvet enervated weeping. Silently alarms are screaming. Scope now narrowed by the eking Out which arms demeaning, hopeless Cares; denial in the dreams of Ropes, garrotes, repeating trials.
Their Sorrow’s Blood
But aren’t there unhappy few Who ever locked in stasis rue The dissolution of a dream That once they might have barely gleaned Which withers right before their view? And nothing–nothing!–they can do, Their powerlessness leading to The all-consuming vicious stream They feed with all their sorrow's blood. The dream is lost, they’re aging too, And suffering is never through, Though once so close to it it seemed. The tumor grown from dust, it screamed, And every second since it grew They feed it with their sorrow's blood.
Collapsing, vibrating through walls
Collapsing, vibrating through walls I yearn to reach beyond but stall; I tripped and didn't intervene, And freezing, trembled at the scene. The distant dance I let enthrall. The splendid waltz across the pall Of torpid stars above the tall Defenseworks built upon the skein: Our interstellar dreams apart. Our needs project, they freeze and scald Within dimensions coldly called, Proceeding from the aubergine Sky, glamorous the guillotine Flies down, decapitating all Our interstellar dreams apart.
A place for my poems 