Stygian Blue, Why can I see you now? Gibbous moon, Obscure behind clouds, Behind your truth, The way you see me now, I'm not like you. Suns, despite the clouds, Light the day, give them power. Unmoved? My son, Watch as I consume. Blue dyes, blue dyads, Subdue the fire, Blue dryad, bid adieu. You can speak in volumes, Ultimately, like cartoons, True rivals speak silence. Stygian Blue, I see darkness. Like the way you see me now, Like the day gives way to cancer, Blue dyes, blue dyad, give me favour. Lift my nails up from the bed, Grace my skin with pigment. Perhaps then how, you see me now, It's the colors you can live with.
What was I to be? A hive of bees? I see. Time; clouds. Sky; crowns. Cries, foul: "I'm tied down." She said as I vied for relief. Time, dreams, Lies, deceit, "I'm drowning". Pleas, Screams of an ice house, Before it lies in the deep. Now... What am I to be? Composer of songs, Giver of feelings? What is high to a beast? Fire, disease. What is mine. Like piles at the keep, Rivals final meetings, Some spend life on things. I, much like a beast, Divide things in half, Decide, with a hand, rights to be. So, What was I to be? Probably nothing. Feeding my cows, starving, Alike to the sea. Some sing in the choir, Some sit in the seats. Some write, despite reason, Until, like an ice house, They find reasons to leave.
Sickle swing into the grass, Thinking of pictures, gifts, Hoping they still persist, Hopes for more than past. Head in the clouds, riddles, Under his cap, a fickle thing. Sickle swing the earth and drag, He touches her breasts and legs, Permitting his heart fleeting To consider something risqué.
Amounts, they screamed, amounts, Seemingly all they knows about. Amounts, a mouth, beatings. Even just, if by the brow, Cow steps on the mouse, Like a man steps on a mount. Echoes, couch downstairs, This is my house, GET OUT! Narrowing in the mind, cowers Like an arrows path forward, Like time, straight, downward. Dance, doubt, awkward bow, Applause amounts, doubt, Can a mouse hear the sound? Leers, liquors, in various amounts. In the end, a mouse needs cheese. A cow needs many more things, Succumbs to meandering about the fence, Outside of this, they find no peaceful crowd. People of the ground, fearing clouds, fearing now, Cowards that fear when you speak and shout, Cows teaching which they know nothing about, Why should a mouse throw spears at the clouds? Zeus and Venus, Why would they fear if I step on a mound, kneel, Bow or two step around it? Are they cowards like me?
What am I to be? A hive of bees, I see. Time, clouds, Sky, crowns, Right now tied down, Time, dreams, Lies, deceit, An ice house drowns, What am I to be? Composer of songs, A giver of feelings?
Of doubt, other mouths, A beautiful house, External grounds, A pattern of sounds. Steps: Drum sets, Words abound their flesh, Head in the clouds.
holding the box between two fingers so it does not fall the hand is not pandora’s; she has been dead for centuries inside the lid, an amateur’s attempt at a cumulonimbus the sky behind them greener than the clouds before a tornado the clouds themselves whiter than the dust after what will become of the box? will it house bangles and bracelets and small forgotten memories? will the hinges rust and the sky become separated from the ground? will it ever find its way home?
I wrote the list upon my hand, because I was wont to forget. Memory was always a weakness, since birth I assume. I had since then learnt to cope. Would it rain? I wasn't sure, but I would be ready if it did. "Ready to go?" I heard a voice. I nodded, we were probably already late. It was dark outside, raining. The blacktop shimmered with the small bit of dwindling light that escaped through the clouds. The day was early but the day already felt long, characteristic of the gloomy weather. I opened the door, however, to sunlight beaming in my front door. "Great! Looks like it cleared up outside!" but all I could hear was the ocean. The noise of waves tossing themselves on the shore was overwhelming, their loudness filling the air. "Are you alright?" I snapped back into reality. I assured myself I was fine, just lost in thought as usual. I tried to make myself more comfortable by focusing on the inviting weather, although I was visibly nervous. I felt like something bad was going to happen. My foot stepped to the concrete, bending the leather of my shoes and causing them to crease. We walk beside one another in a peaceful silence toward the bus stop, eyes trained on the puddles of the sidewalk. My foot lifted for another step and as it comes back down to reach the water, I felt a wind rush past. I looked up, and I found myself all alone. Once again, I felt the rain upon my face.
Pence felt worth, more than all, Dirty and small, spending curt. Maybe to shout, Maybe to doubt, Chasing two shorelines, Given scourge or knout. Schoolyards abound, Fence built high, to the clouds. Fools abundance, mountain climb, Peace can be free, expensive as dying, Riddled with fear unknown, prying, Heavy to swing for liars. Fences can be expressive as lessons, Lesions on the back of your neck, Illegal, yet a photography session, Perhaps I soon like Kim can attest.
Pond upon oceans, A death of water, Little men upon thrones, Their hearts of flower, My life but a tome, My life a tower; Stairs to climb, With life inactive; Above the clouds, Time spent sunburnt, Cowards; My designs immaculate, Eating flies as flax, Confusing images, In place of facts. Again the future lost, Pipes accost the ground, The ice storm comes; Some go into town, Some stay lost, Together same, Both die apart.
I have concepts for days, Metaphors for four hours, And wordplays for wakes. I'm not bragging, I'm just impaired, Flawed above the mane. Miscarrying paper knowledge, Cutting loves careless arms. She finds herself wanting, Hair flowing, river forming, Learning is her sophism, So she lies until tomorrow, Feigning disinterest ursury, Tales of cursory, courtesy. A verse aloft in the clouds, Sounds out to an empty crowd, Life of deception floundered. World as in twitching flour, Face equal, equivalent arms, She curtsies and bows, turns; Runs away, her face as ours.
Past tomorrow I see no lecterns. The horse speaks, lack luster, Words worthless, and everyone taking pictures; Girls wet as many pitchers, Barn doors close windowless; Blissful peace again, Silencing planes overhead, Standing tall as clouds, Power small as a child, Foreign tongue, power bottom, University educated, Now you've got 'em. Maybe whispered tomorrow, Today lives in industry, Claws large as the gut, Staged imagery for one; Paper mimicry of a doll, Feigned apathy of a sun;
Dreams aloft, desires of the sky, She dreams for me clouds and rain, Misplacing my characters, Rewriting their pain. Then chastising me again, What is their trade? Perhaps destined by fate, What is their patriotism made of? What happens with the sky at night, Do clouds disappear and birds not fly? Do the stars not shine? Does the moon guide, Even if forgotten by society, Too ignorant to find it? It stays aloft, as my dreams and desires. And she keeps for me only mockery, pity, conjecture upon a lectern of pure disdain, Judgement passed by the clouds and the rain, For everything she dreamt of she was. And everything I evade.
The spirit of a stallion. By:James Williamson A wandering spirit lives in me, no board or brick may be my home. With the soul of a stallion, through this world I will forever roam. Consisting of a two stallion band, only me and my lack of trust. We run towards the unknown future, followed closely behind by regretful memories and clouds of dust. My shadow is my mistress, the world is my wife. She is where my heart lies, and when I am tired of running, she will take my life. Until then I will drink from the sea, and gaze into oceans of black. From the world my heart emerged, and when it beats for her no more, she will submerge it back. My spirit is a stallion, forever running until I ache. A thousand times in this life, my brittle heart will shatter. Yet solid remains my soul, that no one can ever break.
We walk, sleep, and love at same time. Never touching same land, Maybe we have seen same clouds or birds. It's super deep; seabed at high tide. Such height to withstand; Able to perceive high twos as thirds. Gifts like Hebe; she gives a young mind. Youth-centered slow man, Thus in dreams; youth in ancient worlds. I derive order from a simply beautiful life. Beautifully skilled stoneman, Carving life for himself in beautiful strides, My woman is a strong plan sublimed, Though I'm sure a leap could suffice, With her I see that without her I'm blind.
Self circled in dirt, Drawn via stick, To conjure Lapland giants, Keeping them sic, Self free from hurt, To conjure vagrants and larrikins, Doing battle in mine eyes, Cain's mark upon my lamb skins, Letters in twine. Speaking names in droves of demons, Melodic tunes 'twixt thought and time, Emblems of the saints and spirits, 'Mephisto, please, appear and rise!' Ut appareat et surgat Mephistophilis! A basilisk thus clouds mine eyes. 'Switch form you beast, but please don't die!' Smoke appears to change the guise, 'Return to me Franciscan Monk!' By magic I am blindly drunk, Mephisto doth appear to me, Apparently, he says, with ease. But apparently his own volition, Per accidens he blessed my wishes. 'I charge thee wait upon my life, Do what Sophist shall command, Be it moon to fall from night, Oceans all to swallow land, Orient wife with adjunct girls, Harvest the seas of opulent pearls. Surgat nobis dicatus The Sophist! Pray devoutly to the prince of hell, Confounding home with Elysium, The Sophist; To Whom Sophist dedicates himself.' Conjuror laureate beyond control, Mephisto a piece; Mystery whole.
Vested in reality, Blood of beasts and saints. Destin blind with empathy, Believing self divinely great. And I suppose that's fine? I mean, Hey; What of judgements cast as mine? Howbeit, What of judgements cast as they? Pretending watch though eyes are blind. Lay my head in shallow water, Watch my face in clouds pass by. Let me drown as hallowed fodder, The message, Nearing. The message, Fie! Simple timeless truths elude us. Clouds in our heads, Dreams in our skies.