March 30, 2003

• I find it so painfully fascinating how dreams turn on you. How they backfire and spit blood as they spiral down in fearful agony. God, I am filled with wrenching hurt, and if I could end it I would. So I write about words that translate this feeling. Im tired of it too. Vineet said he is sure I could write something brighter, then, I give you some thoughts on beauty; that way you can remember all the beautiful dreams you had that now lay in cooling, spreading puddles of tears of joy…
  
  

  
  

  Sang we of beauty
  When the rain came like gentle petals of dew
  Upon the draped leaves of the mulberry trees.
  The thorn of a rose pricked a tiny drop of blood,
  Crimson against the gray,
  From my cheek.
  It rolled down with the tears
  As they sang their songs that built like pinnacles of ice,
  Then shattered as blades of sunlight swept through them.
  Their operatic grief flooded through my soul
  And buried me in thunderheads of cold water
  Sweeping over my mere self.
  I am small in the face of beauty.
  
  

  Sang we of beauty
  As the ground fell away beneath our feet
  And we plummeted entwined through the insubstantial clouds.
  What is left but the winter kiss?
  The cathedrals laugh with their gapped windows.
  The final flight of my beloved fathers
  Comes upon the heavenly gates;
  They are not made of pearl
  But of wood.
  Gold was ever an illusion,
  And the last lie falls like Lucifer
  As they cross the line
  Past the table of judgment.
  The clouds are whipped into lusty sea-foam
  And the lathered steeds of my fathers
  Clip and snort,
  For they know in their hot-blooded flanks
  That it is time.
  
  

  Sang we of beauty
  When I held him at night
  In tormented tortures of mortified wonder.
  There are curves in the night
  When the sea pitches and rolls
  And the stars shriek and reach out with pearly hands of light,
  Their sylvan souls seared with disbelief
  And ecstasy.
  The moon splits in two, spinning lunar debris
  Into the black divide,
  Her two riven crescents streaming chalky dust
  As they fall to faulty earth below.
  Our cries rose upwards and twisted like vines in the air
  As it froze, then sundered into three million pieces of timelessness.
  Tears flew into the mist and disappeared.
  His lovely face closed its eyes,
  His lip bitten as she leaned closer and loftily
  Spoke of angel-things.
  Upwards sped my soul,
  Short of the sea it will not stop,
  All the way to Venus while the violins clamor higher.
  Into the sky they screech
  While our mouths open and we sing of beauty;
  Neptune’s triton rises from the depths
  And the waves surge into the cloven air while thunder reaps
  And we hold on to each other.
  The waters plunge down upon our eternity
  And we are drowned in the sweetness of forever.
  Sang we of beauty

  
  

  

  
  

  damn…. where is my joy? i cant seem to exale beauty anymore….

  • 3:51 pm
  • 3 Comments