Some say we have no choice,
And I agree, as I contemplate
The task of writing of the essay
To compare and contrast
Two Romantics, two approaches;
To find the words and … aargh –
Just give up and just give in
To the temptation of The Doctor,
Two hearts and thirteen series;
To make the sofa my home
For the cold coming weeks,
Leave the screen in darkness
And scream in silence
Instead of dreaming
Of that degree.
The unbroken chain of myth:
Tap, tap, tapping along
To the chorus of your mind,
The perpetuating of the same old truth:
Toll, toll, the bell draws you close
To the chorus of their choice,
The silent grave no longer veiled:
With slothlike precision, a lifetime
Slowly spooning, always searching
For redemption, for the sacred seed
To the chorus of a cockroach’s deed.
I can talk like a turnip, let you know
I know things: a scholar
By cheap paper and cheaper ink;
Let you know I love you: 我爱呢
And then leave you frozen still
At the altar of ultimate promises;
I can talk like a turnip, spread wide
My final uttering like the cheap lard
You wasted, smeared wafer thin;
I can talk like a turnip, but would it
Change a thing.
One year I unsaw my face:
No face, no mirrors
For the best of a winter’s season,
With Christmas come and gone
I let the new year slowly pass
Until one grey misty morning
I found courage hanging low
And so I took
And so I pilfered
The truth from the horned beast
That was my image.
One year I unsaw my face:
In no mirrors,
For far too long,
In cracked mirrors
I saw another’s,
No face to call my own,
No place to hide the hidden
Truth of a lost self:
White-bearded,
Aged,
Faceless
Fool
In starlight cold and blue behold her face,
Beside her two of guarding dogs do rest,
Of Titan birth she brings prosperity,
No wonder they built many lasting shrines,
In Thrace the worship of her grace unbound,
Her golden key to open all closed doors
That hides a smile by magic mother moon,
But can she help Demeter’s offspring find,
Our Hecate across the Styx set sail,
To search until Persephone was found;
A triple goddess at our point in time.
He chose the Path of the Huntress,
A Jack with a Sleeve of Hearts,
In search for an Afterlife
Beyond her crumbling Cove;
In search for a missing Half
Deep in the Shadowlands.
He chose the Path of the Huntress,
A Jack without his Jill,
Beyond the Light the Stories withered
As silence fell and voices faded.
He chose the Path of the Huntress,
A Jack – without a Jill.
Dual moon madness: I embraced love only to find her dead; death became an answer never sought yet always portrayed: pray, be ready for the lady in red, be ready for the narrow path, for the door without handle, for the faceless keyhole; hollow dreams kept me afloat, awake and aware of the coming tide, of the residual madness, of the missing I in what became the final stand; tender and tethered I left love behind, her madness moved mountains but not my mine; my mind set on moving beyond, to go where the wee lady spoke of seas without end, of a golden shore to set me free, and of an escape from her delusions of a me.
I have been so far from here. I have travelled galaxies behind my eyes and I have held so firmly to the sounds of reverberating lies. I do not know what I am doing here. I do not belong here. There is no place for me;
this is no place for me.
I have been so far from here – I don’t recognise the landmarks or the locals. I heart. I wave. I acknowledge.
There is no place for me;
this is no place for me.
The tumblr programmers have added a feature preventing me from replying… that’s innovative?!?! So I will reblog instead, just wanting so say this is always a place for everyone, including you, #fact. Another useless fact is this: you are my third longest connection, yes you – remove Tumblr itself there is only one which I have connected with longer. We’ve been here for years, decades even. I suggest we remain, as air sustain life we feed the words into the perpetual grinder of everlasting dreams.
Sól
But I can’t tell you of that,
can I?The wolf’s chase, the run,
the blood-stained snow, screams stifled
to barely a breath.*
I won’t be able to unsay
that Imissed you when you stopped
looking formy reflection in the well, bare,
undone, eaten alive.*
Is this when it starts
to last?Or is it already frozen
like early bloomsgripped by cold
consuming them like fire?
As dusk settles
As twilight calls to arms
I light four candles
Each night, every night
In remembrance of brighter days
Of days of snow
And icicle brows
As dusk settles
As innocence falls apart
I light four candles
Each night, every night
In remembrance of another life
Of a life of smiles
And absent worries
As dusk settles
As fate calls for a final charge
I light four candles
Each night, every night
In anticipation of a life anew
Of a life with another me
And you
