11-02-2005, 09:56 AM
ignore spelling errors, they are not errors.
----
the blueberries push through their skin
light shines from our bone, the crystalline smoke forms to hide these
mountains
your smile forms to hide the truth
that truth i always knew but never believed, your true intent of apostasy
the true intent of my words and these poems
these poems of rain, of sand and concrete.
these words i spin into delicate weavings, weavings you wear so warmly
the scarf to hide a scar
i threw everything i had ever created into this wishing well, yet my wishes
were not granted, i was left without my cause and without my roots
one quick gust and the snow will fall
your tears will fall
we traded shells upon this golden grain, lost homes and broken things
you were never interested in these things, you never saw the complexity of
the simple
my life was always the complexity of the simple, the breath of the painter,
the dream of the writer. maybe i would travel south for a winter, the frozen
earth kills all seedlings
i've woke up as a corpse, as daring life lacking soul, in search of
something storybook
i've found these children's books of complexities, things we'd never learn
"How to Love"
i never believe capital letters, they are not as important as they lead me
to believe, they claim to be leaders, they claim to be strong but they
crumble and fall just as easily as i do.
i can never be any more then what you see me to be. i am what you see me to
be and i can never be anything more unless you let me be. i hate to be
shackled by you, by anyone, by clouds
clouds that taunt these plants, these school children with false promise of
snow, purity that is never seen, purity fowled by uncertainity
melted by this careful puzzle
these cold ice run through my vein, the ones that still work
the sounds you made, your mouth spoke in color, green green grass, bone
white and the blue of those jays. it would be simple to scream.
shake my hand and say goodbye, you never really mean it. i'm always right
behind and you are writing letters. letters to some far off lover, a lover
made of glass. the bronze glow of her eyes. turn off the lights one more
time.
you say you've bled to feel alive, but i know that blood does not make life.
you're just a coward, blood you hide behind turtlenecks. i can see the scars
from your gils.
gils from your life as a fish. of majestic luminosity. the silencing of your
stripes.
one day you will rise from your bed asleep. you will not call and you will
not write. one day you will leave his town.
the phone never rings. we never speak. this isn't something i'd call love. i
would call it richard.
we live in this state of richard. we are alternating train wreck. box up
what you still need to read and we'll drive to the cabin. the cabin you
first spoke to me.
"i am darkness but i am here. if you ever need to find me then close your
eyes."
you were adamant in your search for leafs. maple, fir and stone. you read
stories to trees, because they could not hurt you.
not like i could.
you were not a paramedic, and you could not heal us. this is not a rain
storm of us, this is a rain storm of all. we are all alive.
aren't we?
the river flows west and our blood pumps incessantly. rain falls from the
sky and rain falls from our eyes... but do we ask why?
Why?
i could never answer the questions, i was too scared to be wrong, i can't be
wrong about something so simple. if i were, how could i be right about the
gravity of your words. the tastes of this memory. do we really remember or
do i just dream?
we become ashes and feed the things we love. the things that really live.
stars and mars.
the matter of being proper.
property is nothing to the dead, and nothing to the powerful.
truth be told if i could speak. this love is more then my blood. there is
more blood to be had, but not more love like this. flowers bloom in our
radius.
dreams that have not been dreamt are always the most vivid. stunningly
vivid.
indescribably vivid.
i've seen you painting, huddled over a canvas of white, starch white sky you
paint. we watched the sunrise from my roof. nothing has ever appeared with
such effect. such vivid esteem.
except your umbrella. the day i saw you. color in a sea of black suits. i
found you and explained my life "I've got problems, I cannot dream at
night."
you frowned and told me that it was of no importance. dreams can come out in
plenty of ways, life is a dream you scream.
i love the way you speak about your dreams, i took a train through them, a
window with a seat and a view i would never forget. i always forget.
we would not change since that day, your hair was now red and my eyes were
now darker.
bend my writing and read my paint. brush strokes of words and paragraphs of
paint. what do your fingertips see in me? you touch my face while i bum a
smoke.
the scent of your fingernail breaks through the cigarette. cherry red or
bubblegum. the label from a bottle clings to broken glass, the way i cling
to you.
romance was never my best subject.
----
the blueberries push through their skin
light shines from our bone, the crystalline smoke forms to hide these
mountains
your smile forms to hide the truth
that truth i always knew but never believed, your true intent of apostasy
the true intent of my words and these poems
these poems of rain, of sand and concrete.
these words i spin into delicate weavings, weavings you wear so warmly
the scarf to hide a scar
i threw everything i had ever created into this wishing well, yet my wishes
were not granted, i was left without my cause and without my roots
one quick gust and the snow will fall
your tears will fall
we traded shells upon this golden grain, lost homes and broken things
you were never interested in these things, you never saw the complexity of
the simple
my life was always the complexity of the simple, the breath of the painter,
the dream of the writer. maybe i would travel south for a winter, the frozen
earth kills all seedlings
i've woke up as a corpse, as daring life lacking soul, in search of
something storybook
i've found these children's books of complexities, things we'd never learn
"How to Love"
i never believe capital letters, they are not as important as they lead me
to believe, they claim to be leaders, they claim to be strong but they
crumble and fall just as easily as i do.
i can never be any more then what you see me to be. i am what you see me to
be and i can never be anything more unless you let me be. i hate to be
shackled by you, by anyone, by clouds
clouds that taunt these plants, these school children with false promise of
snow, purity that is never seen, purity fowled by uncertainity
melted by this careful puzzle
these cold ice run through my vein, the ones that still work
the sounds you made, your mouth spoke in color, green green grass, bone
white and the blue of those jays. it would be simple to scream.
shake my hand and say goodbye, you never really mean it. i'm always right
behind and you are writing letters. letters to some far off lover, a lover
made of glass. the bronze glow of her eyes. turn off the lights one more
time.
you say you've bled to feel alive, but i know that blood does not make life.
you're just a coward, blood you hide behind turtlenecks. i can see the scars
from your gils.
gils from your life as a fish. of majestic luminosity. the silencing of your
stripes.
one day you will rise from your bed asleep. you will not call and you will
not write. one day you will leave his town.
the phone never rings. we never speak. this isn't something i'd call love. i
would call it richard.
we live in this state of richard. we are alternating train wreck. box up
what you still need to read and we'll drive to the cabin. the cabin you
first spoke to me.
"i am darkness but i am here. if you ever need to find me then close your
eyes."
you were adamant in your search for leafs. maple, fir and stone. you read
stories to trees, because they could not hurt you.
not like i could.
you were not a paramedic, and you could not heal us. this is not a rain
storm of us, this is a rain storm of all. we are all alive.
aren't we?
the river flows west and our blood pumps incessantly. rain falls from the
sky and rain falls from our eyes... but do we ask why?
Why?
i could never answer the questions, i was too scared to be wrong, i can't be
wrong about something so simple. if i were, how could i be right about the
gravity of your words. the tastes of this memory. do we really remember or
do i just dream?
we become ashes and feed the things we love. the things that really live.
stars and mars.
the matter of being proper.
property is nothing to the dead, and nothing to the powerful.
truth be told if i could speak. this love is more then my blood. there is
more blood to be had, but not more love like this. flowers bloom in our
radius.
dreams that have not been dreamt are always the most vivid. stunningly
vivid.
indescribably vivid.
i've seen you painting, huddled over a canvas of white, starch white sky you
paint. we watched the sunrise from my roof. nothing has ever appeared with
such effect. such vivid esteem.
except your umbrella. the day i saw you. color in a sea of black suits. i
found you and explained my life "I've got problems, I cannot dream at
night."
you frowned and told me that it was of no importance. dreams can come out in
plenty of ways, life is a dream you scream.
i love the way you speak about your dreams, i took a train through them, a
window with a seat and a view i would never forget. i always forget.
we would not change since that day, your hair was now red and my eyes were
now darker.
bend my writing and read my paint. brush strokes of words and paragraphs of
paint. what do your fingertips see in me? you touch my face while i bum a
smoke.
the scent of your fingernail breaks through the cigarette. cherry red or
bubblegum. the label from a bottle clings to broken glass, the way i cling
to you.
romance was never my best subject.