The Underway Cavern

(another MD poem)

31 March 2017

Underway Cavern

“hide my secrets, hide my soul”

oh she is just a lonely candle

shining her light at the base of the path

that is blocked up by each individual

till one chooses to face this world’s wrath

till one chooses their own life to channel

into the orb that is small

into a body so small

into the crack in the wall

into a pain very real.

oh, it is only a game!

oh, it is only a body so lame!

oh, it is hard to have fun!

oh, it is hard to accept everyone!

hide my secrets, hide my fear

oh, but it had such a warm veneer!

oh, how i wanted to just disappear

hide my secrets, hide my soul.

To Ignore The Sun (poem from 2012)

i guess some themes never get old

To Ignore the Sun

1.

Rain forgotten with dawn

as shadows welcome the bright flood.

Fallen on their graves

eyes and breath of dead

in daytime must freeze

against faces of men:

lonely now lost,

needy now blind,

causeless their hope.

Fall soon please again, night of great beauty. 

And let this heart break its visageal tomb.

2.

Come child! with light for now gone

-- which means --

for us now no reason to hide.

Raise me to dance, forgotten boy

raise me with moony warmth

till bright oldness compelled by sun

drops our shadows from sea back to earth.

The Shade at the Passage of War (poem)

20 Feb. 2017
The Shade at the Passage of War

i look about, i look inward
inward for the face that was once there
the face that would give me such a scare

i look outward
outward for the face that would glare
i look outward for the face that i would dare
dare you to let appear

it is far and also near.
it is the sum of all my fear.
whether you show it
or choose to hold me dear.

i find that i am able to call you friend
and only you can choose where to let that end.

the cracks, the fractures,
i can offer at least a dozen tools to mend
if that is your desire.

around me is a fire
the face is only fire
and it moves to the edge
not to the center
but you are truth

and if you choose to fear the heat
i can't yet show you much grace
but can accept you
for you are still a youth

but if you choose, we can turn
dancing deeper till our secrets join the earth.

The Plan (poem)

12 December 2016

The Plan

Tell me how this all fits into a plan
how you want me to want you, too.
so you let me go running around.
Into every lie, old and new.
Will they help me, these circuits of pain?
I'm afraid that I'll keep letting go
so who cares if I hold any tighter?
I flee, it's all that I know.

Does it help, that I get turned around?
The end and the center are where I'm bound.
Nothing breaks me of fear, not joy, not the shofar-sound.

Tell me how this all works.
Why do I feel such despair?
how is this helping me want to stay near?
every day, I only feel blossoming fear
and the people with answers, they all disappear
never knowing they're all I hold dear...

Secrets We Keep (poem)

(This poem succeeds where another failed, in the task of being about a relationship I've had a hard time putting in words.)

--

bs''d

Secrets We Keep
31 January 2017

When the corners all are cracked
and the mice don't know where to hide
the mountain is over my head
and all the choices, clothed in
deepest, unyielding, most beautiful of black,
don't even bother with pride
don't even bother to make themselves
heard,

i will shout at you with an organ pipe
till all of the copper turns blue.

i will pour out my emotions
and lift them to the lips of meaning
with a fork, and meaning will swoon.

i will rip the blossom of fear from the
grass
and show you that i forgot the roots
and you'll show me your blossom, too

and i'll never know if you also forgot
or just did what i showed you to do.

and maybe the black is really grey
or brilliant, glowing white

and maybe the colors we found today
are the colors of blackest night,

maybe the secrets we build today
won't be the ones that bring us delight
won't be the ones that give the sun light
won't even get us through this long, damp
evening,
(or is it morning,)

but to me, now, they are beautiful,
and the blossom is beautiful, too,
and i'm sure that those roots are beautiful,
and i'm sure that you are beautiful
and i'm sure I am beautiful, too.

e:

Flowers (poem)

Flowers
8 January 2017

It was never quite so clear to me
as it was to
the confident sprout, sticking its head
out of the dirt
the confident bud, collecting what it needs
through the dirt
the confident flower, showing its colours
over the dirt, sharing its seeds
which each holds only the secret
of the flower
and not of the dirt.

I never could quite see
where the author's message ended
and the message of the author began
and where the author ended
and the message for me began
and where the message for me ended
and my own message started to speak.

a dirt of many flowers
each forgotten, each unique.

Looking Up, Looking Down — The Darkly Spectacle

Looking Up, Looking Down — The Darkly Spectacle

Day 315, Year 11 (by the MagicDuel calendar :D)

 If the waters shimmered downward

and we were looking up

would the times at all be different

would they be less rough

yes, a line was drawn below

based on literary taste

those preferring newer wisdoms

outside the line were placed

but a line was drawn above

no less vicious, though it lost

I don’t think the leader mattered

both are driving, though we’re lost

a line of taste in instinct

shunning those who lost its thread

do not think that this was better

or left any fewer dead

nor believe it was erased

(if you took the other side)

we are still in awful danger

of two kinds of slaughter