The Nature of Daylight

[link to www.youtube.com]

I imagine the cavernous echoes, pre dawn, sharp and crisp;
your shadows and voice, part of the cave.
And the sounds travel forever across the frosts of morning;
birds sing over them and they rise on mists over water
against the blue sky of morning,
beneath the wings of small polite birds.

[link to www.youtube.com]

Against cycles faster than ever,
peddle, wares the worn a bike.

A year n a bit of slow cooking
of drowning over the otherside of sunshine,
a year of reflection, deflection,
absence and application.
A year of forgetting gathered jonquils,
letting go, starting a new, loving it.


[link to www.youtube.com]

drums beat lullifyed calm
with pattered shishing;
orchestrated white noise
melodic concerto missing

water colours rising
upon silvery rainy streets,
gun metal alleyways
steel step pianos sweet

foaming storm water
cyclones, rush over curbs n drain,
funnelled vases twinkling
cradle brittle twigs away

all the while sunshine
soaks the rooves above;
steaming breath of warmth
drying, undying face of love

foot falls catch fresh droplets
channelled past ankle and a lace;
cooling rush hours heat
capture of childhoods trace

each clouded moment
adding depth within this soup;
every murky muddy puddle
designed by tire and troop

fleeting pigeons wheal n dive
from stoop to sills spikerakes;
bars, warding off airs reflection
flocks of eyes, they seem to make.

onward drifts that which was
onward to pond n stream;
oily rainbow masterpiece
shady Rembrandt of far off dreams


:siteless



[link to www.youtube.com]

Fern, you can't, you cannot
yank up the moon
and not pull up the oceans;
their green waters folding fierce,
fierce as the calamity of river stones;
ones of green clarity these ones smooth,
cool, trinket like, fashioned to a hook….
The first chapter of your book;
She was from Odessa, Vanessa, That river girl.




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pocket full of posies. (a poem of pestilence)
in the style of Poe and Shakys lovechild



How I abhor the treacherous wintry night’s cold moors.
Blanketed moors, stealthy wicked moors, rue unto you!
Through spring we loved, we laid in thick heath’s secrets
picking posies.
True shy eyes, flowers thou hast placed in my hair.
Sweet smell abate, o Sweet Myrtle, Bay Laurel, your skin
bathed in drunkening allure. How we played innocent,
almost babes finding new worlds in each close breath.


Amidst Harlock like water fly we danced lavolta merrily
to grasshopper’s chirps, while afternoon's hushed dim.
Our writ,
hand in hand loves gilding light, to my door, each night.
My kind sir bid me farewell. Plant sweet lips to my hand,
tarry not your call again this day tomorrow at wan skies.


This burning flutter within my breast keeps me wakeful,
for your cheered voice and kind eyes at stairs landing.
We blushed like God himself touched across our cheeks.
Faint did our resistance sway, steadfast we would have been.
But for Venus, her sweet songs and Cupids immortal elixer
we could have been! We hid within those secret spring moors,
Certain we would wed, our souls we promised last eternity!

A dream! A dream! This our portrait in blood, in flesh! Our bane!
Pure love doth wane with woe. Our unborn gathers posies
with I, to ward off evil black that comes unto our sufferance!
These sweet posies, beloved flowers in our hair,
they seemeth unto us unfair, with nay offers of protection.
Marked upon your door an X!
Burn my heart
my soul burn me!

With your darkened departing pyre,
take us with you unwed! I shall not scream my want be dead!
I have cursed those moors and swooned loves bitter grief
our promises laid to bare, denied! Denied our love! Thus,
this wintry night I lay atop cold heath.
I await your hand, Ardent spirit,
I beseech my love abides ne'er trite.
I follow you to eternity’s night!

: Touché Armada/siteless



[link to www.youtube.com]

[link to www.youtube.com]

How Gentle:

how gentle are we rising
easy as eyes in sockets turning

intimate the hardness: jaw
upon jaw, forehead warm

upon forehead
kisses quick as breaths, without volition

Love: I am luminous
careless as love's breathing

fluorescent glowing the fine
warm veins and bones

your weight,
the sky lowered suddenly

I am loved: a message
clanging of a bell in silence

you are quickened with surprise
our horizons surrender to walls

Are we wearing out
our skins' defenses? --

turning to silk, texture of flashy
airy surfaces scant as breaths?

I am loved: the noon slides gently
suddenly upon us
to wake us


~ Joyce Carol Oates


[link to www.youtube.com]

[link to www.youtube.com]

Poetry, a personal affirmation, strength
weakness light in darkness as pitch
as coal; a dark mine of helplessness.

A cliché

Poetry, a kindness to self for a lack of understanding
a personal moment.
An opening of gently cupped hands
setting free shimmering sparkles of sweat;
butterfly wing dusts.

Silent chants to distant stars
dangling silver coins,
spinning fairy prints
an air of hearts lost,
listening for an echo,
within midnight gardens twilight.

:siteless

[link to www.youtube.com]

In the inky forest,
in its maziest,

murkiest scribble
of words

and wordless cries,
I went for a glimpse

of the blossomlike
white erasure

over a huge,
furiously crossed-out something.

:Charles Simic

[link to www.youtube.com]

~~a durable fire
~~~~~In the mind ever burning;
Never sick, never old, never dead,
~~~From itself never turning.

—From “ Pilgrim to Pilgrim,” by Sir Walter Ralegh

“Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence.”

“I'd say that what we hear is the quality of our listening.”

:Robert Fripp


[link to www.youtube.com]

Deep in the Stillness
:Amrita Bharati

He threw me away
like a clod of earth.
He didn't know
I was a thing with a soul.
He didn't know
I was alive.

He kept on throwing me
like a clod of earth
out of his way -
onto that neglected path
that happened to be mine.
And so I kept travelling
along my own way.
Each time some fragment broke off -
some infatuation, some addiction to happiness,
some earthly hope,
some dream squandered on man.
Each time some fragment of my being
would break off.
And now it was my turn.
The world was already left behind -
like a desert in a sandstorm,
like an ocean in a hurricane,
like a desolate city.
Man, step by step descending,
was already left behind.
And now it was my turn.
Standing on the last patch of earth
I gathered myself into a whole thing
and hurled myself into the stillness.
This was my silence -
pervasive and expansive.
Now the world was either a dream
or a sea-flower
imagined at the end of the ocean.
Deep in the stillness.
Only the sound of my footsteps.


[link to www.youtube.com]

le sigh

love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes

love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes

and some days
the turning of hands front to back is essential
for the neo-noir parental examination aimed towards
a lapse of logic like a stream flowing into new digets
caressing December with a hope beyond needs or trust
that we'll remember warmth sought in June, in January.
And she might out her icy lovers to then pool them
in her dreams, summers relief beyond noon.

Happeh fuckn new year

[link to www.youtube.com]

Strange Nightlight

you could have been my someday

but i seem a yesterday
too far in the past
to find tomorrow between the sheets of time

(inferring that waking up in new daylight
is a misanthrope's nightmare)

whisper in my ear; maybe i'll love you
tonight--- for a moment
but i'll kiss you goodbye
before the sun rises

and you will rise
alone

a promissory note on your pillow
unfinished.

:Jacobeen

hrm
hrm

nevermind, I've got nothing... carry on space cadets

ONE ONE ONE

The lamps are different.
But the Light is the same.
So many garish lamps in the dying brain's lamp shop, Forget about them.
Concentrate on essence, concentrate on Light.
In lucid bliss, calmly smoking off its own hold fire, The Light streams
toward you from all things, All people, all possible permutations of good,
evil, thought, passion.
The lamps are different,
But the Light is the same.
One matter, one energy, one Light, one Light-mind, Endlessly emanating all things.
One turning and burning diamond,
One, one, one.

Ground yourself, strip yourself down,
To blind loving silence.
Stay there, until you see
You are gazing at the Light
With its own ageless eyes.



Rumi (1207 - 1273)

Greetings from Van Diemans Land...Merrry Xmas and a hug

Is that you AandL loitering aroung these parts? Havnt been here for months and months but thought I'd see what the fuss was all about hehehehehe.

Greetings and some festive season cheer

Standing between two plane mirrors

Misperception
is an inevitability
and an enjoyment

in its endless
arcs
in its kind of
sanctity

to abolish
what peace of
mind ever
existed.

Here again misconceptions
a seed blown
to the junctions
of me
and the spirals of
you
in this apparent
rationality
and liberty
of bodies
and minds.

For old times sake.

I will try my best not to love you ever,
if you try your best, not to be lovely.
So please, by all means do what you can to be ugly.
Smack your lips and pop your jaw when you chew.
Pull faces and cuss me out.
Be mean and obnoxious, bad at compliments.
Belch loudly in public, don't bless me
when I sneeze. I promise I won't miss you,
if you promise not to be worth missing.

Cannot cross the river?

Nor write the invisible vortex of air pulling in hard behind me in my onward haste.

I feel better off barefoot in rain softened summer grass
left over, having escaped the browsing graze
of cut-rate angels,
clumsy leggy angels -

And if at least their coats were longer
and more flowing and a different colour
and their poems appeared not from a chaff bag
but delivered on dew,

dressed in their Sunday best from head to toe,
with bells on, and diamonds in their eyes.
I might feel better off feet bound-in till the mind strangles.

It takes breathing life in, in the dust in the clouds in the smokescreens to learn to give a damn, and it takes coughing it all back up again in wads to build a dam wall that might hold something In time.

Trying to read the Morse being generated on a dew drop, first up, on an amazing morning,
I become acutely aware my language skills are lacking.



Last Edited by siteless on 04/22/2014 07:38 PM