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Twelve Moments In The Dead Of Summer1. The sunlight glistens on her wet skin as she's walking towards the beach. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his life and even if the words seem to dry up in his throat, he knows what he is going to do next.
2. It hasn't rained for months now so it only takes a small spark from the cigarette to set the undergrowth on fire. On the first sign of fire they panic and run, never to look back but to remember years later, in nightmares, the crazy old man who lived in the shack nearby and was never seen since.
3. They lay together on the grass, watching the sun slowly go down behind the treeline. He takes her hand, old, wrinkled and frail into his, and whispers: "I would give up everything I have for one more summer like this". She responds: "Darling, you already did that years ago". They burst into giggles, just like the one he was supposed to take her dancing for the first time and got lost on the way, and it seems that all these years haven't changed anything at all.
4. The thorn
I Am AutumnThe last of the light has arrived
sheltered under a tree I seek to find the right words
this is not my place nor time, and yet I am here
a lonely sliver of autumn embraced by the glorious summer
I cannot decipher how this unknown wind blows
I can only feel the flame under your palm
the way you move the earth that covers me
the movement of the skin and the shadows on the altar
inside the temple we built out of us, and for us
If you asked, I would give up my precious words
to watch your colours flicker on the sky for a little longer
but when it's time, I will still be there
I will always be there, and here
to paint the leaves scarlet for you
and to hold your hand as we walk through the winter
Failed RevolutionsThere are three hundred and ninety seven meters to go
we gently break the surface and first fall past the ice
I have the movement in my fingers
and comfort in the faint shadows that gather overhead
the metal feels cool against my back
deep black hangs against the deeper still
and the sky breaks into pieces
as I lay my head against the starboard bow of the old submarine
and count the souls that have turned into rust
breathing is as easy as watching the light move far above
I offer no resistance
for this is how it feels to drown
LupusI cannot say anything about loss you wouldn't already know
You've seen lives cut short by sunlight
and the slow decline in eyes begging for help
I am, and we are, no strangers to violence
I've taken the knife myself and cut my signs
on a skin that will bear my mark
The blood of the angels does not run in our veins
but down our hands
and as I walk among my mistakes
and the remains of animals
I can only ask for words fairer than mine
and water to wash these hands anew
FaithI am alone
walk through the field of roses and faith and pure white snow
the tracks I leave are covered by only the purest
only the most lightest of flakes
The sodium colors the light I breathe and I look at the flight
There is a face in the swirling snow
a presence on the edge of my vision
I try to focus my eyes and something gives way
I can feel the the gravity with the irresistible song
I pull away but fall in love with the notes
feel my existence unravel and fall into the melody
become a part of the notation singing in harmony with the tune not in any earthly key
Against the loving touch in the wind and the commands of the mark on my forehead
I grasp reality and bite down on my tongue again and again and again
until my mouth fills with blood
and I choke, and close my eyes
and then I am falling down crying, sobbing, choking
screaming my denial at the infinity that is no longer there
after the silence I am alone
free to live and sing and love
In Betweenthere are only few words
and fewer still that lie between worlds
describe how it is to flow;
rivers of people in between winters
clinging to whatever there is for them
with a fervor of droplets joining the greater sea
Perhaps there is a pool in a garden
where water stands perfectly still,
a mirror that cannot be perturbed or looked upon
a surface of reality that does not change.
But the beauty that binds this world together
lies silent beyond the snow line
where the wellspring runs down the rocky mountainside
and where the droplets fall in the sun
TimeI used to walk here when I was still lonely
build stories out of the stones on this shore
conjure love from the mist before sundown,
the silent figure by the water
The trees had quite not yet blossomed then
the loneliness of the streets was still in memory
anything and everything were still in the shadows, waiting
not carried in my pocket or bargained and sold like a simple commodity
I could go on for days without sleep, or words
and even longer without meaning
Here I now stand, writing in a world of different color
listening to the sound of time as she is finally turning her face towards mine
she sings to me of seagulls, and sleep, and of death and love
and of the vast plains of snow, still silent and untouched
that will always be there for me
NumbIt was a night beautiful as hell
a brilliant sunset followed by a dusk filled with smoke
stars shone dim
and we walked through like it was nothing
and on the highway the radio played the song
as if it were a movie
the lights rolled by like credits
and like against all odds
none of this was real
DustHigh above, a wall was built to keep summer away
and the spring from seeping in
The wind and the clouds were diverted
patterns of rainfall broken
and on the plains far below
animals bow down their heads in prayer
I, too, kneeled and asked to not make the decisions
but I did
and now the haze that covers the streets is not mist
but of dust
and no one leaves footsteps to be remembered
breathe that soul straight down my throatyou are my full-lipped muse
and half-lidded siren
humming a broken chorus
breathing to a metronome
sighing in crescendo
an evangelizer of acoustics
the ministry of instrumentals
I've been baptized
in your anarchist hymns
you've made me a believer
of vinyl and a religion without god
INFINITELY LILITHI am not dead for I cannot die,
once Man thought I could be easily misused,
exiling me to an epilogue no longer remembered
as he blotted out my blush from staining
the Earth's chrysalis rind, if only he knew
that beneath my touch knowledge took root
and pumpkins were hollowed out into shapes
-seedless and skinless-as infinite as the mind.
I am not dead, I cannot die
for I am the memory of primevel bliss,
though blackened my skeleton still exists,
licking the Silence clean so my name can
bite more soundly, a thousand serpents hiss
from my nebula center, welcoming to me
my children who bring the blood that feeds
my dessicated garden, ravenously growing,
I cannot regret for I live too purely to repent
the pushing and prodding of my blossoms to be
known by the timeless exuberance of eons past,
in the Moonlight I move and speak of dark things
not really dead and the light not really blessed
without me being known first, infinitely I say
I am not dead for I cannot die.
I am Lilith.
The Lost Who WanderI find myself
at the feet of a god,
not with expectation,
praying falsely for
of divine intervention,
but out of sheer desperation,
like those who murmur
prayers to St. Jude,
within the darkness
where there is none
over the rocks
with the blind,
not counting how many
along the way,
all to hear enigmatic
from the parched
of a mad woman
with hallucinatory visions
living in a cave
which sweeps over me
in waves of nausea.
I martyr myself
for your pain,
and grieve unaccountably
for your loss,
it seers through me,
like St. Sebastian
I find myself penetrated
full of holes, bearing the marks
of a guilt which should
never have been my own.
But that dose not entirely
absolve me, there is
no escape from my own
all I can do is watch you
and wait for dead prayers
to be answered
by the indifferent
sages who devour
our fates making
bets as they attempt
at the endisthmus tossed over the edge
wipes the bull's back
in the odourless sun
the tiger could rest
could perhaps be crossed
the temple is marble,
white and final
the boy stands up
In the WoodsIn the woods my spirit wanders
it goes where now my feet shall follow
the trees, they speak with silent tongues
where wind will pass through every branch
my eyes alight with newfound life
I know this is my lasting home
the ground beneath receives me warmly
soft-spun soil has kissed my feet
the air around has touched me deeply
soaking in my every pore
the birds are singing in the trees
with peeping frogs drawn up and down
the waters of the streams are murm’ring
the distance now is not so far
and what is near is father still
the world it breathes in through the roots
where my soul is rising to
digging deep in untold heights
my spirit wanders with the breeze
here is where my people lived
where they fought and drank and built and died
the forest is our endless home
whence our finest tribes did hail
fare we well to come back home now
to bring soft flesh to bare
bear it out along the way
softest skin on rough hewn bark
the palm may breathe in with the wood
and out the lungs give a cath
UntitledToday, Father, we need Your aid
For in the in the present, battles rage
With Your guidance, victory will be made
And Your praise will be sung from age to age
Memories of Days of Peace to ComeMemories of Days of Peace to Come
Midnight, silence echoes through the void;
A sight once seen, the earth ever recalls.
In wordless wait, time comes to an end;
A tale of anguish, by curse and decay,
To be cleansed by the coming of a King.
Heat goes away as all things perish;
Universe being poured out unto death,
Longing for the hour of redemption,
Whence the high price of man's sin is paid,
Foretold since the old days of the fall.
Mountains weep with great tears from the heights;
Magma blood erupts through earthbound pores;
Pressure tightens the core in the deep.
Humble, the moon comforts grounded cries;
Thrice the quakes submit to divine will.
All of nature stands tortured and shamed
By the bloody hands of foul mankind;
Murderous, desecrating the holy.
The deep growl of God's wrath reverberates
Like judgement on atoning innocence.
Starlight pierces the black of the night;
Words of white tell their ancient witness.
The firmament bleeds its precious glow;
Holy brilliance she
Now, BecauseNow is the time to be tough.
Even though you don't want to be,
even though you'd rather just weep.
Now is the time to be strong.
Even though everything in you cries,
screams against it.
Now is the time to be happy.
Even though all you care about is fading,
falling rapidly into the background.
Because weeping does nobody good.
Not even you.
Because faltering only hurts you.
Not even screams help.
Because happiness is the glue
that is holding you
that is keeping you
from bursting apart at the seams.
Because even though everything, everything
Is falling away and is meaningless,
("Meaningless! Meaningless!" cries the Teacher)
You still need to ignore your grief
Keep moving and
It'll be fine.
Now is the time to be tough.
Even though it's so hard,
the hardest thing you've ever done.
Now is the time to be strong.
Even though yo
THAT PAIN YOU FEELThat pain you feel is muscle building,
destruction of the worn away pieces.
Staircases being built while you work away,
signs saying "Construction: please use detour".
Walking partially on the backs of past foremen,
who built their own homes and left behind the blueprints.
The world can't show restraint in its assault,
but the paths have been cut for those who would spit in the eyes of gods.
Look down at yourself now,
That six pack didn't grow itself.
echoes of clear water on the polished stone
trees with veins that run silver
mechanical robins who sing out of reach
palms pressed against the surface
leaves of tin and copper, falling early
clockwork that is winding down
Patterns like writing, etched by rainfall
seeds in deep sleep like chrome
silence that still rings in tune
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