2/14/13

THE DARKEST LAND ON VALENTINE'S DAY






Days of old, in rainy shires of heathen disorder
I look out beyond, beyond my window and I see the blooms of earth into a disaster


I seek to sky, to cry, to writhe out of nothing, to seek the blasphemed border
Of all recklessness, and fakened poise; graceful hearts blackened, from white to gray

Not one soul, not one has stepped forth from Earth’s garden, not one has flowered
To behold in my light a sweet Azalea of perfected candor and blithe
I have read, I have sought, but none have ever taken me to be sapphire showered

Sweet music, so soft and delighted, like drifting thoughts filled with elegance of soul
Melancholy thoughts, truth of the heart, death of the art, my heart it does pull
I wish not to contend, but I wish to know him who weaves this whole
Into my heart, a whole from beauty, a whole wanting to fill with beauty
To behold that face with splendor quietness


So likest the poems with tassels of romance and frightened city

I wish to conjure your presence upon the sad sky
I wish to serenade your heart with hopes of love
It is Valentine, It is of you I do address, to seek of my
Hand in friendship, in love, in peace, in something, to only touch your eyes


The eyes that turns the orchid to blush with embarrassment
The sky to turn bright with creation
The flowers to waltz and the Seasons spread wild
Do not~ on my knees, on my hands~ do not shun
And cast out my plea which is brought forth so riled

It begins with the sound of jazz
It is wonder, it is a drink of a fountain in distress for immortality
It is a way soft, It is prelude to the warm rain in reverse
Leaves twirl in the wind, fall back to the branches of which have disgraced
Storms turn to die, Apollo pulls down the sun with his halo
The ground sheds tears, it falls, smeared paint, it is erased

There is nothing.
Then there is Valentine. A dance upon a sky of purple, a single of hope
It is like the Fur Elise, so melancholy in search of hope
Fur Elise, the old cliché, but new to my heart, pulling with golden rope
Made strong with lush stems of Orchids and stardust entwined
~Of violet skies and rainy tears of bliss do you remind

Will you have this dance?
There goes that warm eyes once again, to touch or to leave
I only wish to see, to know of your beautified cadence
I have fallen through all plunder, through earth’s sieve
It is Fantasia, it is Cannon in D, take your pick,
Hands around your waist, smooth float across the clouds
One turn, one burn of my heart, my soul is speaking loud

I can serenade, your hand in mine, what shall it be?
The dripping tears of the Appasionata
To flower your heart, and open your eyes to my crimson tea
I can pour forth of my own, a deep purpled sonata
Make it like the flowing sea and foamy shores of bree


Happy Valentine's day, sweetheart.

 

 

About Me

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We yearn for some explosive, extraordinary escape from the inescapable and, none forthcoming, we put our faith in an apocalyptic rupture whereby the inevitable is solved by the unbelievable grasshoppers, plagues, composite monsters, angels, blood in industrial quantities, and, in the end, salvation from sin and evil--meaning anxiety, travail, and pain. By defining human suffering in cosmic terms, as part of a cosmic order that contains an issue, catastrophe is dignified, endowed with meaning, and hence made bearable.