Your love song lapsed into ancient French that April day.
I only understood the words of spring and heartsore
lapsed. Only love and heartsore, I understood your ancient
words of the spring-day song into that French April.
You fabricate my pauses into repetition, silence speaks
of ages strung to rhyme in love’s difficult service
you strung into pauses in service to ages. Fabricate of
love’s repetition, rhyme speaks my difficult silence.
We practice tedium of vows till language breaks apart.
As if art should aim at science, rigorous, quantitative,
rigorous language breaks tedium. Science vows a part of
quantitative practice till we should aim “as if” at art.
Till we lapsed into language. As your ancient ages only
fabricate quantitative French strung to that difficult
practice, science speaks of tedium and understood rhyme.
The spring in service of love’s rigorous vows. April
pauses, heartsore. You and I, apart. If love should aim
my words at day, repetition breaks into silence of song.
I have flown on wings of dreams, but I never could land well
I've never been to the end of a rainbow and I've never talked to an angel
I could never reach the fleeing horizons and I could never catch the wind
I have never caressed a sliver of moonlight until it touched your skin
When I first saw the beauty of your silhouette standing before the sun
I was the pilot of a new dream landing in your love
Then my tears reflected colors of a rainbow and I could talk to God
I could finally reach the horizons as you woke up in my arms
And I dont care where the winds blow as long as I'm with you
We could float into forever where Delphinus stars may bloom
Where time is never the difference between nights and days
We could cast our shadows from moonlight as we let our hands play
Plucking beautiful flowers from heaven until the end of times
Planting new celestial gardens beyond our endless skies
...Apologies to Heraclitus and W. H. Auden...
We, defeated by the merest things,
in defeat, endure...for now.
No abiding truth in "faith":
origins and destinations
we cannot differentiate,
all random, unguided
by any prescient power;
but, not illogical (there is no illogic.)
We impose all "universal order,"
influence what subsequently occurs,
to learn, or not, through endless repetition,
endless failure...and we are
but a current iteration,
here for now -- like all,
in constant flux,
defeated by the merest things.
Courage and nobility derived
from continued confrontation,
continued endless struggle,
let us "show an affirming flame."
A new photograph floats to the surface
Playfully dressing up as the world around me
Hat, striped socks and all
Tiptoeing at the top for one last sweet moment
Before sinking back into my ocean mind.
One after another they arrive
Steeping my eyes in the world
As the minds shutter, ever fluttering
Strings together this conscious stream I play in.
My photographs fade in time’s wrinkled arms.
Joining their brothers and sisters at the ocean floor,
They hold hands and try to answer the question that is always asking itself:
Who am I?
RIPAE BENI DEAU VER
In modus fasciculumque Brady pus.
Rogationes, confractum egemus.
Ripa nostra, sus amica,
Sic superbum precum, pape beatus.
The National Poet Of Slovenia In A Language People Understand moves in mysterious ways. Just ignore him.
I do not know?
I'll be damned
What did doctor ..say?
You got 3 good years..
Your wrong doctor...!
I need you mama..
Well you can't come here.
You just can't bring it here...
Where will I go?
don't know ...but not here!
I cried for someone to hold me..
I called my sponsor Craig
I need a place to live?
He said you can sleep in front room
I did ok
I still hurt
didn't know what to do.
Depended on the giving nature of strangers.
Learned what I needed to know
Wish I could speak to mama..
But I need to move on. Why?
Because mama I got! HIV
This happens a good bit, but know that you will be ok just like me..30 yrs HIV survivor..my names TG Green
I am drifting into memories.
Wasting away like a million photographs fading in the sun-
Yet with ceaseless renewal,
Staining the depths of my eyes with images
In the minds shutter ever fluttering to infinity,
Stringing together this conscious stream I play in-
My stupendous God made of dust and space
Tightrope walking existence!
And to think we too are made of mostly nothing-
Chance so scarcely gracing our atoms with a single touch
In a place so lonely when counted,
Yet so abounding when felt!
So dance with the Dust God
Poised miles above the earth-
Prance on your stilts,
And peek into the great valleys beneath his skin.
Because any moment we could disappear
Science in all fascination has discovered a species aquatic
Theorizing this new yet old species remained hidden as Merman
only to live in secret at the oceans floor the mermaid a tribe indigenous
once said to be myth yet all proof and technology film does not lie
Tsunamis has given the ocean a true glance of the man with webbed hands
The species communes with dolphins will be under a microscope to analyze ?
" The World is not ready to see what I have " Jacques Cousteau ~
to be entered in The Science contest ~
Devonian birthed an innocent beach
down at the delta of a river great.
Compressed and oppressed by sediment weight,
sand became stone hidden far from life's reach.
A northern ice-angel came to impeach
the cloak of silt atop the stone's pate.
Leaving exposed in a fixed angry state
labyrinths and crevices bred of the breach.
But soon upon the sedimentary,
dampened and moist facing east and north,
spread verdant moss and ethereal fern.
The friendlier integumentary
fed roots of cherry and beech bringing forth
flight that ascended to Holocene's turn.
Ann Silverthorn 1995
This poem is about Panama Rocks, formed by a glacier, in upstate New York.
the crumbled burnt remains of a close distant memory resound in brain fraternally idleness and pain a combination of the insane or going...touched by madness obtained in the faltering state of debaucheries and laborious fails continual hardship continual pretense continual submission to a unjust pointless
mission of greed and circumstance already bequeathed upon those who openly benefit from their ancestors vice their soul live on from the benefits of others sacrifice and sacrifices that in kept motion penetrate the foundations of betterment. Of real equality of real justice of real liberty the age old struggle from first chaotic unrest and anarchic uncertainty to the self-justified model which has now unleashed it’s full might upon the unaware descendants of the crushed opponent the age old struggle the age old riddle in time lived through and maintained by those who solicit the rules to us those who solicit our falls our halls our calls and even our balls the air be next and with it the tax when their common purpose be right for that. The next part of the agenda the next evil tact manipulate their way of life given by them and given by the gift of strife to stifled our potential to stifled our judgement to make business hurried away from the natural goal given to us in time immemorial that pure magic truth where have you gone all we are left is hammers, sickles, to tongs replaced and subjugated by a deeper lower light the real glory of mankind faded and becoming more slight less fight less right and more tight a falcon a eagle a lion a bear their claws have strength and so do theirs. So tired so naked and bare hands tied mouth gagged hoodwinked and exposed to poisonous err.