Gloom

Orange- strange how reflects it,
The world, in its shape.
Not just corporeal,
But it's core, moving things.

Split -8 perfect regions,
Joy, gloom, hope, love,
Four kings of the realm,
Envy, ambition, solitude, strength,
Four jesters.

Connected we are, to all.
But varies does it not?
Each region grows with what is felt,
Invisible matrix feeds on everyone.

Incompetence fills the heart,
Dark jewel,
Center of pride, yet so despised.

Weary of, melancholic guitar strings,
Weeping violin and mournful flute,
The language it speaks, too familiar,
Too fluent I am in its toungue.

Weary of being gloom's biggest buisness,
Surrender my pride if you will surrender your grasp,
Backbone's broken, what dignity is left?

Beg for you to withold your touch,
Of unnatural evil. Mine too became yours,
Your carrier became I.

Feed you did I Gloom? Or did you feed me?
Whatever it is, you drain my life, stop.
Unhealthy it is to gorge on one.
I'll stop on you if you stop on me.

Surrender identity, for a simple chance,
The link between I and my master's broken.

Dogs of War

Lend an ear friend,
For thy well I speak.
Ever was there such a thing,
Prickling the very center,
Of focus and self-content.

Tried to banish it,
As thou thought thou might,
With actions of the tongue.

The given remedy was said,
To be spoken words to a kind,
Understanding heart.

But done that thou has,
Not to one but many a ten,
And still the core pricks.

I have learned,
Only action may cure,
This terrible unease.

Pretty words and kind tones,
Just lavish decorum,
Cure lies simply in action.

Face thy malady with a straight back,
Stand tall proud, with courage,
Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.

Adam and Eve

With a furrowed brow, sat Adam and Eve,
And churning thoughts, flew about,
For Cain and Abel, had grasped one another,
And our first blood had spilt, that of a brother.

Beauty, t'was the world's name,
With fresh pine smell, and lemony dew,
Crispy autmn and vibrant rural green.

That day she met her unnatural twin,
Beauty was tarnished by human being;
Their blood and lust; and silent frenzy,
To consume, empower; and reel did she,
Reel did beauty.

The begoters spoke to one another,
"What to do, to stop this blunder?"
Naught is left but cold harshness,
Beauty's died" they each said.

"What to utter to all our being,
When truth greets , and all see
See, naught is left but cold harshness,
Naught is left but cold harshness."

Then greeted their ears a curious sound,
Like a water stream, yet a little loud,
Raised his head, the serpent,
Uttered his tale in a low hiss,
And left the pair confused, amiss.

Looked at each other with sullen sad eyes,
And nodded in defeat- acceptance of beauty's demise.

Then gathered all their children, did each one,
And then a saga they had spun.

A fairy tale of forbidden fruits, and lusty dreamns,
Custom turned wrong, and eccentric right;
Went on this tradegy for fourty days and inghts.

Survived only 2 of the kinds to lock away,
The secrets of the true day,
The 2 begoters, the 2 storyweavers.

With a final glance at one another,
Bated breath, and heart aflutter,
They turned to the baptized crowd and said:
"The only truth that will remain evermore,
Is the truth of love, that we reassure,
Search thy homes, search thy trees,
Search thy villages, bend thy knees.
To find the two eyes and one heart,
To fufill your soul, to go to the land apart.
Where fruits are sweet and skies clear,
And we will be forever near and dear,
Final comand it is of ours,
That thy shall turn all stoned and scour,
For the meant being for completion,
And to spread this message is thy mission."

Then they, retired the grandest two,
With downcast wyws and treading shoe,
Let loost a mighty sigh, Eve, and said,
"To tell the truth! And darkness shed!"
To turn she moved, but Adam stopped, shook, said
"Done all we can, let them be,"
And never again did the truth we see.

Fear and Cowardice

Many a lines have I read, many a deep thought,
Seen nothing have I, but march on I cannot.

A glance at the mirror, disgraceful image greets,
Hollow eyes see I can, for what do they seek?


Relief, oh yes, that is sought, upon all else,
For nothing will provide any longer, e'rythings an empty shell.

At right I look, the blades I placed smile at me,
At left I see, ropes, dreams, nightmares laugh with glee.

Wish to use my right to cut my left, but no,
Coward I am, my master fear will not let me go.

Strange is it not, fear is my motif,
Only force to drive, only resistance to drop of the cliff.

Cowardice is all which sustains my daily life,
The day I find strength will my flesh meet the knife.

Sparrows'

Bout: Its fucking difficult to like som1, and knowing its impossible to have anything with her; but still one dreams

Fog, fog, dark thick smog,
So much effort to swim,
To your lighthouse, to my dream.

What hides behind your smile?
What light plays in your eye?
What does your honeyed tongue really speak?

I have fallen, yes fallen,
Or maybe risen, yes risen,
Into sweet myth; love.

Know not if you mirror, or you mock,
If you want a medal, or a heart.

You,
Tell me that your worlds held inside me, with your eyes,
Tell me that you're bey'nd scope, interest; with your words.

There is a sparrow at my window,
He tells me he wants to soar like the eagle,
To glide like the hawk,
I tell him, little sparrow,
Thine hearts' too great for thine being;
Shed ornated dreams and twitter around my house,
Twitter around my house.

My friend told me, young man,
Thine hearts' too great for thine being;
Shed ornated dreams and look to another
look to another.

Your lips speak one thing,
Your eyes another.
Your tones whisper of great expectations,
Your words deny all.

I am a fool, for I do love,
The Eagle and the Hawk,
Her flight does inspire my little wings,
To beat to float in the skies,
Yet her calls mock.

To fly to the sky,
tis self annialation, yes, yes!
but stop myself i cannot.

Easier To Run

Easy, yes it now seems,
To sit, to smile, talk,
Broken the ice,
But icebergs' ahead...

Plays' a tune inside,
Your eyes, words and scent.
Makes each effort to cut the 'berg harder,
To risk the melody? I dare not.

Floating higher, spinning deeper,
Smashing ice, and iceberg grows.

How to show, show
Animations of mind, of richen fantasy
of sweeten dreams, and dewy eyes

A content song, throaty hum,
My wish does sing.
All games...impossible,
the guise, tricks and plays forgotten.

The answer I know inside:
No, no, no a thousand times no;
Yet still questions aches to depart,why? why?

Ice will melt,
And the berg grow,
This I know:
A coward I am...to complacency i have knelt.

Bout:
How difficult it is to convey to sum1 that u like them. Further more the friendship (ice) grows almost at the expense of the delcaration of attraction (iceberg) and as shown by the two metaphors...the two relationships are almost the same thing.
The narrator knows his quest is impossible, yet he still feels obliged to tell the person hes attracted to that he likes him.
Each day makes it harder to be a lover rather than a friend; and finally the narrator forfiets the will to tell her that he likes her

Loosing Ground

A lot of emotions,
Held inside for long,
Dusty, rusty and clunky.

A nice little cage, for myself I had built,
Nice little shelter from the rain and hail,
With a sweaty back and aching arms,
Myself I had placed brick upon brick.

People huffed, they puffed and blow it down did not,
They screamed, they cursed, they punched, they munched...

Mighty one, nessecary is it to live with the heart?
It bled! Bled with every beat;
It sucked and pumped all of life from within,
Turning blood from blue to red,
With accomplice lung in hand,
Both slaughtered all light.


Built a prison for these I did,
With calloused walls, and iron bars,
...All damage stopped.

But O' Lord, escaped they have.
Conspired with one another,
And enlisted the aid of a most fascinating assasin,
Thick brown locks, and almond eyes,
With Shining light inside,
Inspiring the murders to revigor their efforts.

O' Great one, killing me they are,
The enthralling one, armed with her words,
A couth grace, and crushing smile...
with her allies.
They let me not breathe in peace,
They let me not think...
With every new beat, I am forced to greet,
The ache; renewed.

O' king of kings, aid me in emancipation,
Control the flutters of the heart,
And loss of breath in the lungs;

Abolish the fantastic effect, of the sight,
the smell, the sweet sweet smell,
The sensation of sound, the memory of taste.

Mighty Lord, the garrison begins to crumble,
The villans' freed, and enemy at the door,
With terrible weapons, and mortifying armies.
and loosing I am
yes loosing
...delving into her

Use me Holly...

Partially mused by the song 'all of this' by blink 182
bout looking for someone who's a perfect fit, but getting frustrated cuz it aint going too well.

Always tried to break free,
From forced templates of mind,
Tearing walls down into two,
Carve my own path.

Of late universal picture depicted,
On mind's slate.
Looking for her, everywhere,
Split my sky in two.

Use me Holly, come on and use me,
Use me Holly, come on and use me.
She's all I need, She's all I dream,
She's all I always wanted.
She's all I need, She's all I dream,
She's all I always needed.

Searched bottles of burning spirits,
Was never at end of the bottle.
Combed through smog,
No silhouete.
Hacked through skin, bathed in blood,
No signs...

Use me Holly, come on and use me.

Is hard to die,
As I rather would,
Than to force templates on e'ryone,
In search of her.

Sunny day, in May

To be or not to be, 'tis not the question,
But where, what and how.

To be or not to be...

Unearthed in place wheres scales tipped,
Calloused self at site,
Nerves scream and groan in misery; eyes
forever moist.


Will the sould find calm?
Or will it be garned,
With crown's of thorns, to forever morn,
The birth of birth of birth.

Red soaked claws of all the whips,
Long, short, thick n thin, eye candy for the sore.

I live to die, one sunny day,
On occasion of my native May.

Who'm I; such a scale; what I to do?
Dig crater's upon the face, unleash noise undue?
Iron fists clenches lungs, my heart, my gut, my face,
Lovely lies do chew and gouge all of every sweet grace.

I live to die, one sunny day,
On occasion of my native May.
To be or not to be, 'tis not the question,
But where, what and how.

Life N Shit

Look down the road- crippled boy,
Stands with broken, calloused eyes,
Looks for a bite, just - a bit,
Feed his tenatious gut, live for another.

Wonder, what he wonders,
'A bite to eat, a bed to sleep,
A soul to touch, shoulder to weep.'
...Shit,
Life is shit.

Mine own existence,
Freckled with blood,
Tears, futile sweat.
Twenty one million ways,
To improve.

Inside the car, suited man,
Heavy weighen hand and a phone- grand.
Looks for a chance, a single chance,
To leap and roar; conquer.

Wonder, what he wonders,
'A home to own, peers to walk,
A heart to hold, a hand- to try luck'
Life, always.
(this is a bit melodramatic; guess I was overtly passionate when I wrote this.
The poverty and stark contrast with the rich walking on the same road has been a grand influence and muse.)

Styx-Lethe (with explanation)

Due Caution: Sappy poem coming up, get into a lovey-dovey, romantic mood.

Stuff u should know (in case u already didn't):

*Lethe, in Greek mythology, is the river of forgetfulness, situated in the underworld. The spirits of the dead drank from its waters to forget expereinces of their earthly life before entering Elysium
*Styx, in Greek mythology, is a river, and the entrance to the underworld

Here it comes, (into a sappy mood yet?):
Slouch on that end, of Styx, I weep here before Lethe.
Divine intervetion- gouges apart,
The two halves that make the whole.

Add not to these snakes- for so will I,
Let the wells brim up, look at me,
Let me look at you. Let the breeze,
Carry the touch, the rhyme.
Rely not on sound, the crude commodity,
Draw your fingerpaint with your eyes.

Hold your tongue- curse not the ache,
Immerse.
Immerse.

Soft tickle, thine lips; soft warmth, mine heart.

Broken shards do entrech mania,
To leap in; swim to?




Explanation: (read this after u've had time to think over the poem)

Topic: Frame of mind, and sentiments when two lovers are riven (ripped apart), and union is a sheer impossibility.

As always there are many 'interpretations,' but I'll try to explain the 'primary' one.

Two lovers are torn apart, by destiny; and no matter how hard they try cannot unify. That's why the between the two lovers there are two enormous and significant rivers, each representing their own entity. Styx shows that the distance between the couple is so great its as if something to the magnitude of life and death seperates the two. She (my lover) 'slouches' cuz obv she aint too happy at being seperated by external circumstances. Lethe is significant, since I'm standing on the banks of forgetting the experience, -'getting over it' and thats when it hurts the most.

Then I proceed to mock and curse the gods cuz their disrupting the natural balance ( gouging apart the two that makes the whole).

'Add not to these snakes' has two main implications...firstly, the rivers are snakes, and since shes crying, shes 'adding' to it (the tears are falling in the water) perhaps this is increasing the distance between us, perhaps it just makes us forget each other more (Lethe is the river of forgetfullness) . secondly, her curses and damnations of everything and life add poison to the snakes of 'destiny' (when u recognize smtn of this nature, u just give it more power. Eg. when u look for a division between 2 things, only bcoz ur looking for it, it exists).

Then the whole 'sappiness' is explored and I ask her to look at me with tears in her eyes, and let the breeze carry our touches to each other (ie. physical acts of love; note- not being perverted right now, i do not mean get horny off of the wind). The 'rhyme' bit indicates the unison of rhythm of the beings (as in beatings of heart and all that other cliched crap) and the poetry of sensations one experiences during 'love.'

Talking to express smtn is crude, overdone and flat out boring. ('rely not on sound, the crude commodity')

the word fingerpaint is used coz the idea's fuckin awesome, its raw, artistic, sensuous and carnal. (ripped the idea off of red hot chilli peppers, lol). So, I'm asking her to use her eyes to express everything instead of the basic expressions of emotion- talking, touching, etc. (fingerpainting her sentiments)

Then, I ask her not to be wholly preoccupied with cursing fate, and to actually acutely feel everything that goes through her. B'coz sometimes that pain is immaterial pleasure (knowing that you like something so much, enough to feel such pain). And of course there's a point to all the pain. (what that is, depends on each individual.)

Then I guess I experience such a level of rapport and empathy, that it seems I can actually feel her. Perhaps its just memories that're replaying in my head. The point is, I can actually experince her.

The last stanza's all confusin (intentionally). 'Broken shards....entrench maina' mean bits n' pieces of special memories drive people crazy (b'coz of various reasons- they constantly try to relive that meomry in the real world; that awesome expereince becomes the standard for normal life, and thus constant disappoint ensues...etc...). The last line I'm considering risking everything for an obviously impossible cause- One cannot cross the river of forgetfullness, go into the underworld and reunite with thier lover. Theres no question of possibility. Even with clear knowledge of this one cannot help but impulsively try to do the impossible to acheive their wants and needs. (an implication- if one were to cross Styx, one would have to be dead. Thus, perhaps I'm considering death as a bridge to my beloved)


This a very material and literal-minded runthrough, there are plently of other 'spiritual' , 'sensual' etc levels (jeez that sounds gay) , at least i hope so (hope it has several levels- not hope it sounds gay). I'll leave it to u to unravel, and enjoy.

Hope ya like it.

O plz excuse the fact that I sumtimes refer to myself in the third person,- it gets kinda weird havin to say me and me chicko all the time in the explanation....

Pen and Sword

About- Hmm......hard to express, gotta read it to understand.

NOTE- when reading the poem don't use the 'word wrap' option under format, cuz ive added explanations next to sum lines, but u should use it when reading the explanation, cuz it makes it easier to read.


Pen mightier than the sword,
And the axe, the bow, the mace;
Ink unveils the world abroad,
With chaste taste.
My pen, my ink conquered more,
Thanst I should repress,
As the bearer of this sword,
Words wer’ mine fort.

Gave birth to a thousand seas,
With diamonds sparking in.
Beaming sun with tufts of hair, (tufts of hair are the clouds)
The warm, cool breeze.
Or move to the woods, with heavy airen aura, (the air is heavy and humid)
With crunched footsteps taken to move, (footsteps crunchy coz o the dry leaves on the ground)
To play with shadows numberless.

Never failed- defend myself,
From armies of emotion; nor did leaden thoughts e'er best motion, (leaden thoughts- depressing thoughts)
Of my pen, and deep deep ink; armored count and counterless.
Yet there had begun a most strange sensation,
Dawning somewhere down, creeping up with pleasent beration,
Or, pointless query- all mere imagination?

Disarmed me, unfamiliar hum, till 'twas all I manage notice,
All else begun- slip away,
All the lights and sustaining rays:
of Melancholy, gloom and depression.
Tinge begot another tingle,
Began itself to mingle, with locked mental treasure chest,
Bred and bred, till could hold no more, it had best. ('bested'as won in figthing, not best as 'the best movie')
Somewhere, something: tension had sore,
Washed at sea and was I at shore.

Naught remains of my weapons,
My forts crumbled down,
Thick, powdery, gagging haze is left,
'tis nothing evermore.
Nothing evermore.

Comments-
Ok the point i tried to express in this article is rather twisted, and I would imagine, easy to loose track of. Initially it portrays my merits and abilities as a writer and how good i am, lol (bear with me, the self-flattery has a point...), how i could make a beach or a forest feel more real than it would be to actually visit it. I was armed with words as weapons, and little stumped me.

I could always express complex emotions, and darker, suicidal thoughts and tendencies clearly and succintly. And then the unfamiliar feeling occurs. and it begins to consume all thats important: my depression, melancholy and gloom (although it could be argued that decimation of these things would be good, it remains that they're a very important part of me, thus to destroy them would be to destroy an important aspect of myself).

So, slowly this feeling grew exponentially with time, untill, it exploded, breaking the tension. Thus I was completly lost after this 'explosion' and regarding the sea i had managed to describe so beautifully earlier, now, the sea is completly different in my perception. (my earlier descriptions of the sea is the same as a description of the shore, thus effectively not descriptive at all)

So this 'explosion' desecrated my weapons and forts ( my ability as a writer), and nothing was left but the smoky haze that is left when a building crahses down...ie. it mocks the earlier structure (my work) since its the abominable residue floating in the air that lingers around.

And so, my work never was, and never will be anything.

After this deep explanation, it might seem gay to refer to what the 'stange feeling inside' actually is, and obviously, its amorous or ardent feelins'.
the whole experience of these sensations changes ones view of the world completly, and it's so fucking difficult to express these things thats one might as well retire and vow never to write. Thus impliedly this poem is a tribute to aphrodite (the hot hot hot goddess of love). (haha, that was just a complicated, macho way of saying its a love poem.)

The poet who effortlessly can etch everything in the world, fails to portray his emotions- completly, extensivley and comprehensively to his beloved, and thats the main theme of the poem i guess. its hard to express that the whole meaning of life becomes n'sync (no, not the gay boy band, i mean 'in tune') with a hearty glimpse into the eyes of a lover. Everything seems subsidary, and its as if one wears glasses(where an image or a color is drawn on the lens), and everything is just a part of the bigger, more central theme: you only see what filters through your glasses.

Sorry, got carried away, will control myself better next time, lol.

I did though keep another aspect in mind...lol...its intentionally perverted (o cmon u didnt expect a perfectly legitimate piece now did u? moreover from me...). everything is synonomous with a cock (pen, sword, etc), and the poem also speaks of how awesome i am in the art of shagging :D. n' that ain't no lie babe ;)

...Maybe the guy in the poem just needs a dose of viagra to get his 'sword' back again, lol.

Importance

Bout- confusion between imp. things; and what deserves a higher priority in life

Whether 'tis more important,
To batter oneself with sensations,
Of a warm, sensous lover;
Engulf in pleasure, fill with pain,
Flexing muscle, testosterone rain.
More than bodily, less than spiritual;
Climactic myriad berated.

To touch mistressess' moist lips,
With fingers gently shaking;
To inhale fragrance so sweet, passions baking.
Caress body and mind, feed upon eye's like the blind.

Induce to rage, sweet nothings,
Feast upon heart- it sings,
Forceful, beating jubiliation;

All sensation, lends itself to creation,
Perfect bliss, and painful nirvana,
Reminiscent, beating heat of the savanna.

Or to hushen logic,
Pleas for shelter, stem, fulfill.
Impulsive, tense- why so?
Complete, consumate, must I go?

End Walking

Bout- priorities in life (btw- flutterby is the old name for butterfly)

All o' us walk to our ends,
Walk blindly to our ends.
In it whats important?
Vital to full life.
Myriad things we live and do,
Yet how many? How many?

Life-educated, but why?
Living-always working, again why?
As essential to breathe, to consume?


're kisses from warm lover more endeared than
sweat of hard money?
Joy of melancholy, and glum of happiness.
Beauty of emotion, taste of mistresses' tongue,
Touches of private pleasure, consummation of all.

Hardworking trees reach heights such great,
Yet 'tis Jasmine, fulfilling pastoral elation.
E'en more flutterby's- live in perpetual glee.
I had know one once, and she known me.

Walk to mine end; wonder whats vital, whats not,
So this wisdom I might send

Thor's Hammer

Bout- suicide

Leave Erebus with a bang,
No Keats- do not dissolve,
Not settle into Hamlets' fine mist;
But sound the gongs of empty shells,
As they clang about; even as vissisitude,
Of Fortune leaves us in doubt.

Hear might Thor's Hammer,
As I strike it against myself,
Against the monotonous Gods,
As I rebel.

She will fade...

Bout- 2 ways to interperet:
(1) a lover's better than drugs or alcohol et cetera;
(2) Running away from problems is the best thing 2 do

Sweat of cold satisfaction as I run away, from my aches;
Burning cool of the draughts taken to slip away;
Where all agonys' entrys' barred.
Inhale the sweetness of God's Gifted Herbs, to go, to my world.

Rich leafen green, sweet aromas; Graceful maidens dance the night away,
Dreamy lethargy begets in limbs; pleasent drowsiness sings softly all the while.

But as I peer into her eyes, sorrow finds birth of demise,
'tis when soul hums most with content- heavens know.
Ever was there a warmer touch, greater than the kisses of Isis,
Ever was there skin such soft? Ever was there so encompassing taste,
Ever was there intoxicants such sweet? 'n she will fade...
The greatest drug, the greatest struggle, most dire of pain,
Nirvana was formerly a stranger.

Sweet Master

Bout- Depression; hopelessness of life; philosophy of death

O sweet master, torture me, into affliction, into flying rage, into subdue so I loose myself,
Into the only truth in life, the crumbling pain,
Lest I live in a world, where truth doesnt dwell.

So, come and smother me, come and subdue me, into deliciously hideous world of pain.
Butter me, splatter me untill I am lost, in pain.

A world of opposites, right is wrong, wrong is right,
Darkness is light, and so is light the darkness in which we dwell?
Pain is pleasure, that I know; but is pleasure painful?
Is elation the time when we are at our lowest?

Darkness is in the light, so when is darkness, ever prevailant,
Onto the countenance, and contour of current catch.
Is this life, or is this death, this darkness through which we stumble,
Do I live when I close mine eyes, when I dream,
Do I not cherish the imitations of death,
Ornamented with dreams of joy, and pleasure.

Am I born yet? Or will I be when I escape this world,
And I stop this superficial existence, is there not a higher world up there?

Where else do I escape, everytime I close mine eyes.
Maybe, life is death, and death the gate of life.

Yearn to be born, yearn to escape this claustrophoic womb,
And I'll fly with thee, in the real world of adorable green, and crystal
Clear skies, then the sweet melodies of the wind shall
Play in my heart and I'l soar higher into true being.
And I yearn for that day, yearn for that time,
Still I ponder, is this life or death?

Rough

Misery feats on me, why?
'tis said faults inherent, is i' so?
Liable, to the bite of melancholy,
attempts to drown in Lethe,
fruitful, its not.

what flaw? lets roots of depression,
claw down?

Sink

Bout- inablility to convey feeling of attraction to 'attractor'

Heave a sigh, look down;
Eternal effect echo and echo,
As chords move, and gut drops,
As lips smile, and mind flops.
Nerves tingle, repressed reborn.
Frozen frame, aroma adorned.
Empty beats, and empty streets,
Gaping holes vast full fledged fleet.

With Knowledge deviod, melancholy's cholyed,
Stregth lacking to convey, biting into shoulder everyday,
Murky clouds grow darkes, view the world through broken mirror.

Sink, transcend. Help me, save me,
Lend me thoust Godly hand, may i attempt graps of salvation,
As yet I sink, sink,
Sink deeper

Interlock

Bout- Forbidden love and a rlly nice, hot, yummy chick (but i guess 'nice n kind' are biggest factors here)

Ah yes, let flow groans for purity,
From your fouled tongue.
Sing a ballad to turquoise waters under,
many a mused breath
Try to consummate thine love of gods,
Fulfill your lust for wine.

Her eyes etch a tragedy of mine dump dreams dispatched,
Lustrous lips flow in sympatethic empathy.

Whom to don master of the drains of rage, fountains of woe?
Forbidden fruits' the sweetest, wish for a taste of she.

More fortified than knighted steel, dirt mollifies,
upon kisses of his lover,
Yet she floods; decieve, feign and forge?

Spare me her body and feed me her lust,
Libido's virginity chasten, for climax up ahead.
Taste her toungue, not of physics, of sharp soft soliloquies.
Delve deep insie, deep deep inside to introduce yin to yang,
Interlock.

Flicker, flicker and play

Bout- inablility to convey feeling of attraction to 'attractor'

Flicker, flicker and play,
Bamboozle, charm and daze,
Stop for a moment and gaze.

I swin in raw sensation,
Spinning, dizzying, throbbing beration.

Pieces fit into the perfect puzzle,
Still pondering point of all guzzle.

Run away, tease; poke,
the calm inside. Ruffle up,
pain inside. Conjure up,
melancholy inside.
Unaware, blissful ignorance,
Of internal affairs; play
The flickering flame within.

Template stuck in mind,
My purpose? The completion?
Work your magic, feed the flame.

Dive In

Bout- feelings durin infatuation

Dive in, into thee,
Thou are not, a part of me,
Oh, to plant thee’s aroma,
Into a flower,
If it were so,
Would come back every hour.

To tantalize, human senses,
Uplift spirits, break all fences,
Tasteless, bland, is everything,
That which excludes thoust being.

Earthly, heavenly, all sensations,
Myriadly enriched is the narration
of nerves to the brain,
When this situation occurs...
Contact with thou; birth to countless verse.

Time, and time again,
Will force a rebegin,
But promise of this honorable gentleman,
Shall stick to thee, till the damned end.

Broken glass (rough)

Bout- depression

I see the world through a borken glass,
Where am I? What is this heavy mass,
On my heart?
Is that grief? Consume you me?
Where's salvation? I cannot sense,
What is this which blinds me?
Dare I give in, give up?
Should I fight, that be right?
The thin sheet refuses to break...

Bones N' Flesh

Bones and flesh in a bag of skin,
I lie here within.
Got grounded knees, an aching low bent neck,
No longer see the pretty white clouds,
Forfeit the whims of logic,
Submit to the reign of bruised.

How to show? Tear open my chest?
Need to mend, to loose these memories,
Need to grow out, hold head up high again.
Impart your hand, help me see the sky again.
Wrap me up, in a soft cocoon,
As you've always done.

Explanation: pretty gay n shitty, no idea y ive even typed this up.
Initially talks about lack of composure and loss of pride, self, and dignity.
Then wondering on how to show my emotions.
Then of course ask of help of sum hot mamma in helping to heal the pain.

Closed Canvas

Bout- feelings during infatuation.

Block out the world,
Soak in the air,
Feel every nerve humming,
Singing in full throated ease,
Live in that etch, flow with that breeze,

On a canvas of closed eyelids,
Paints the song a form
Accuquanted countenance, hello to thee
Visiting again, you to me?
Is there a reason to this hallucinating?
All pleasures now so dwarfed and daunting.
Block out the world,
Soak in the air,
Feel every nerve humming.

Aries' Might

Bout- inablility to convey feeling of attraction to 'attractor'

Close enoguh to feel thy heat,
Thoust breath mingles with air,
Ponder, possibility of parched toungues,
Dream hopes of rapture
.....alas....
Unendowed with Aries' might,
Preyed by shelless thoughts.

Effortless chords move;
Helpless, cannot move.
Consumation, consumption, consumation.
Coward, coward, coward,I am.
Close enough to feel thy heat,
Cold destiny seems so far.

Heaven's Pond

Tis raining- heaven's crying: effort- calm, cool hell,
Filthy pond outside, ripples, swells, absorbs.
Crispen breeze dances with pastoral erections,
I go to join.
But it forbids-

Mine tears flood reservoirs of purple heart; of broken fate-
Only ripples swells, and absorbs.
I try and I try and I try- shape myself:
something nominal;
to cool down, calm fiery pace to oblivion.

Clouds to pond, pond to clouds;
Pain to heart, heart to pain;
Joy to doom; doom to joy.

Perhaps divine tears better a chance-mould, cleanse filthy pond,
Than mine to mound and cleanse I.


Explanation:
This is kinda like the song "In the End" by LP: 'I tried so hard and got so far/but in the end it doesnt even matter.'

The initial setting is that its raining. I'm in front of a filty, murky green pond. The rain represents heaven crying to calm down and cool hell (cuz hell is usually depicted to be fire, thus water would cool it). The pond now represents hell- and instead of heaven mollifying it, it just aborbs the divine tears, and even with the numerous beatings heaven gives it, all it does is 'ripple.'Then the breeze that goes along with rain- the cool breeze, starts blowing, and it jingles the trees and plants (pastoral erections), and I go to enjoy the wind- but the wind is so severe, I cannot.

Then dejected and despondant, I sit inside thinking of my countless tears which were shed in contemplation of wounded feelings as well as hopelessness in life- and i marvel that the inumerable tears has had an equally non-existent affect on reality as the rain has on the pond. It too simply absorbs the tears, and only slightly ripples even at all efforts.

Then I explore the phonemoenon of clouds turning into ponds, and ponds into coulds- condensed water from coulds rain from above, and later on that water evaporates and turns into clouds: it a continous, cyclical process. Same it is with pain, it feeds the heart, and to have a heart it so have pain is an example of the interrelationship with the two. The same case with doom-joy-doom: a continuing process.

Then I conclude thinking, that the rain has a better chance to cleanse and bring about shape to the murky pond, than my effors and tears to purify and make something of myself.

Numb

Alive- alife; it is, but when?
I kiss, I smile, I weep, I bleed,
I sleep, I run, I play, I feed.
But hangs over a mystic breeze,
Barred is focus, all all other hocus pocus.

Look to dawn, and rising climax,
But takes me farther away,
Look to close n' compact boldily warmth,
Yet it too fails, any and everyday.

Slit my wrists, bash my bones;
None as ever.

Read, shop, TV, and a drop:
Of bubbly wine; Radio, music,
Sports and games- all the same,
Benumb. Enough! Enough for allsake!

Wish to cry to bleed, to feel-
So I could bathe in mirthful laughter,
So to softly touch, and wetly kiss,
So I could feel her heart, her peerless gaze.
And all I do is feed and grow,
not me- isolating bubble- this I know.

Cold night

Close mine eyes- no difference.
Open and squint- all is dark.
Creaking noises, and heavy airs, punctuate,
Blanket night.

On this cold occasion, e'en colder water,
By buckets dumped.
Shiver, squint; helpless.
Who prey, may prey, prey upon me.
Sense suffoacted by celestial duvet,
Aching heart beats pathetically faster.

Can I not find fire tonight?
Can I not breathe her onto my sight; -luminate.
Seem' collided have I with a most harsh fate,
Mused no doubt by black hole's within,
Abandoned am I to the gods' cold grin?


Cannot breathe, dare not move,
For I may stumble into my loved, carved groove.