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Turning to Diamond

I am not naked, I just put myself out, in places you never go,
And you must be crazy, or maybe just lazy, for wanting to never know.
I heard these words calling, then they started falling, and I just couldn’t move,
Now the ice on my window, is turning to diamond, I don’t think I’ll ever lose.

The broken-up masses, who pray in the doorway, are looking for their lost friends,
And I hate to tell them, but I haven’t seen them, I don’t think we will again.
In the ice on my window, I search for the lost ones, but I’ll never think to cry,
Out of my window, and out of my life now, but I’ll never say goodbye.

Won’t you come to the party, it’s only us two, but I think we’ll make it fly,
I don’t need entertainment, I’m watching my own feed, blasted into the sky.
And sometimes I forget that, I’ve ever been here, things never look the same,
Why did you do that? You know that I liked it, when things didn’t ever change.

The stars on my ceiling, are burning for funerals, planned out many years ago,
And I keep myself in, perpetual darkness, for fear of the fading glow.
All the icicles outside, I’ll stay in my blankets, there’s nothing I need to see,
Outside my window, they tell me it’s paradise, a place I can never be free.

And you’ll never hear me say,
As time starts to fade away,
I’m dreaming of another day,
I don’t dream much more anyway.

Never Go Away

I will cast your love away,
Like a long forgotten memory,
The sickness of another day,
The icy starlight burns,
But I’ll never,
Never go away.

You will tell me to stay,
Like a long forgotten melody,
Lossless in the naked breeze,
Together we are whole,
And I’ll never,
Never go away.

The lights,
They fall down on my memories,
Long since locked away.
The lights,
Come shining on my reveries,
I can’t get away.

You will pass the fading days,
Like a long forgotten effigy,
Together through the icy maze,
Stumbling we will fall,
But I’ll never,
Never go away.

I will be there when the wind,
Like a long forgotten elegy,
Brushes past your empty eyes,
The lids forever closed,
But I’ll never,
Never go away.

The lights,
They fall down on my memories,
Long since locked away.
The lights,
Come shining on my reveries,
I can’t get away.

Bikini Atoll, July 1946

The verdant waves of oceans green
Break cross the rolling golden dunes,
And every star, dreaming to be seen
Arrives to break the evening’s gloom.

The salty fragrance of the sea,
Finer than any censer scented
To raise up thoughts, to never be,
To never dance with discontentment.

To float across the whole wide ocean,
A million sunsets passing by;
How joyous to be in perpetual motion,
Subject to only the whims of the tide.

As the rainbow fractures on the water,
And the splintered colors bleed into one,
Heaven’s light passes from father to daughter
Who could ever cry for a setting sun?

Oh luminous Luna! must you always leave
So soon? In this the most beautiful season,
Which grants to the weary a moment’s reprieve,
From the restless restraints of faulted reason.

The sparkling fairies who attend their queen,
And paint her fancies across the sky,
Though by day they are as dreams unseen,
But never far from my mind’s eye.

Once, awoken from a serene sleep,
I found I’d washed up on an isle,
And soon had deemed that I should keep
This place to make my home for awhile.

At night my heart beats with the rhythmic tide,
And in unison sings with the luscious moon,
Like a silver crystal dancing in the sky,
Whose beauty can cause any man to swoon.

Now this island, but scarcely a mile wide,
Was ringed round with sand, but past the beach
The trees grew so dense that the rolling tide,
Their silent perimeter never could breach.

One day I decided to speak with the sky,
Though speckled with clouds, I began to climb
Past the canopy ‘til I could finally spy,
Out past the reaches of powerless time.

In every direction, the tangerine sea
Spread slow without end, for a minute I waned,
As the world did in turn, and with me did breathe;
For a while we kept up our silent refrain.

Then lying down on the vibrant leaves,
To wait for my love (dear Luna) to fill
Once more my eyes, on this carpet of trees,
I wait though she tests all the strength of my will.

But as evening came on, instead of the moon,
The sun seemed to burst in the violet sky,
And the world turned to white – much too fast – much too soon,
And across all the ocean I could hear their cries.

I watched as fair Eden withered away,
As the golden sand became black and fell,
All the dreams of my life disappeared in a day,
I watched my Eden transformed into Hell.

Perhaps we are bound to eternal return,
And to following life’s inexorable thrust,
But as Luna and Eden and I came to learn,
All the beauty in life turns to naught but dust.

Free of Form

To leap free of form off the precipice,
Not to fall or fly but float o’er a forlorn
World that seems at night to be weeping, while
Here between star and sand, on the threshold
Between serenity and insanity, between
Silence and sound is only the perimeter,
The borderland in which no eternal salvation
Will trespass, where the wasteful cacophony
Of a new dawn is coterminate with the
Glacial silence of an ashen dusk.

A monochrome world of senseless division,
The gaps as seen from ensensed minds
Like canyons blossoming in the rain that
Cut them open, gave them form, and
All across their walls adorn
Such fleeting faults as eyes can know,
The transitive mind will writhe and
Agonize against creation which
Amneses its purpose, to destroy
Naught but nothingness.

How many can say they are ready to
Loose the cords of this physical
Force which keeps our steps ever
In motion around an endless circle
Of predetermined destination,
This force that would see a world
To never fly or float or fall
Down, immortal wings that will never
Kiss the august sun or dance amongst
The briny foam of the sea.

Freed from silence are the ears
Which to the celestial frequencies are
Tuned, and only the incessant and
Discordant voices of migrants lost in
A world they are too much with can
Serve to muddy the clear and vibrant
Tonality of the euphonious melody
In every speck rain trying to cleanse
The film from our eyes, every thunderous
Blast rattling against muted ears.

Here, where star and sand meld in
A twinkling fire cross the hollow but
Deathless dunes, so full of the
Once vibrant and vivacious particulates
Which burst from the fount of Gaia
And in sublime foolishness saw the
Dunes, not as an extension but a source
Of subordination, yet as our
Chains we thrust upon the world,
The more with earthly oblivion to be.

I worship naught but the void between
Our favorite lies and truth unseen,
Where to fit but in a place of
Absence, where else to feel more
At home than where there are no
Kindred eyes, for surely the world needs not
One more tepid and fearful voice to
Join in the silent choir, yet a counter
Melody is received like some foreign
Battle hymn; such a fool am I!

Should shape and form have meaning more
Than white noise on a broken screen
That ceaseless commotion of signals lost
Seems more to me a portrait of
The ordered chaos which so enamors
The broken minds or broken screens
Which perceive in life an unwritten path
Towards the pot of gold which myths
Promised to Man, MAN! who is naught
But a rat in a maze, an eternal experiment.

What do we seek? Is it never to leave
Or to seek at all times a moments reprieve
From the weariness worn by every
Face that has known but a glimpse
Of the calm and tranquil fraud of
Ignorance, to slip back behind the
Veil of thoughtless contemplation with a
Prescribed purpose; and so it is that
We seek not to transcend out of
Something, but rather descend into nothing.

As a rose is scorned from an unwanted lover,
Cut off from life and purpose
Now lost, thrown aside as an unwelcome
Reminder of dead dreams, who once
Held the promise of lustful hope,
Now is trod by boots as unworthy
To touch such beauty as nature
Wrought, that could have known so many
Suns, but now has been reduced to
Dust, that most human of elements.

Dust, how deep I wish to bathe
Where so many lives have paid their
Dues, to feel a thousand years of
Knowledge, of sunrise and sunsets
Seen over the sapphire seas, of
Hatred and love, to be washed away
With no more thought than is given
To the silent mouths, which for want
Of the body and blood, occupy the
Dark recesses of the periphery.

There do I find myself; with steps
So measured as must be unconscious,
I have wandered into the echoes
Of spaces, once possessed by the insane
Longings of fleeting memories,
Now naught but the voids that
Shape our minds, though unseen and
Unfelt, yet present in their
Absence, where are located the lost
Hopes of the unknown.

No true hatred may arise but that
Which from deepest devotion springs,
When needed no more and cast aside
As children forget their old playthings;
A chilling shade drops o’er the Fields
Of Asphodel, or life, as it were,
For when naught in one’s waning hours can
Bring to excitement, or arouse but a
Shade of the wonderment of years past,
Then is life become as purgatory as old.

Those crystals on which men cast their dreams
Are but a bandage for the heart,
Unfit to assuage the damnation following
Those who see in shadows their fear,
Never faced for free of tears do
Men desire themselves to be,
To float in dishonest harmony,
Gently rocked by the water
Rippling from the disparate, muted
Voices of those drowning underneath.

To fly free of form, when all we’ve
Known is bondage to a transient container,
Unfit to house the lowest kinds this
Species has ever seen, yet
With devoted denial our physical world
We toil our lives in service unconscious
For fear of ending as we came,
Yet nothing is ever to remain,
So it must be, that for myself I choose
Not life or death but the void between.

Eyes of a Child

I looked in a mirror one soggy day,
As if to peer through a soft waning storm,
And hoping my shape would fly far away,
In release from this tempestuous form.
I barely caught it before it passed,
Just a faint glimmer, from eyes I’d thought dead,
That had long since forgotten the summer sky,
Or the soft grass on which we made our bed.
Those eyes used to sparkle beneath the stars,
Crackle and burn with the weight of the moon;
Their luster was lost behind time’s cold bars,
And forever now lost and out of tune.
And I’d trade it all for but one more day,
The eyes of a child to light my way

Summer Days

Sometimes I think winter never ends,
The birds fly south, dark snow on the ground.
I walk outside, my face is whipped by the cold winds,
And I can’t see nobody around.

I want to travel way down south,
Where there’s blue skies and sunny days.
Slow rivers running though mellow fields,
Pink clouds rising through the haze.

Oh take me down where the bright sea meets the sand,
And the dunes roll gently by the waves.
Can you help me? Oh, will you lend a hand?
And take me back to those summer days.

The grey clouds spread out and cover the whole sky,
A cold rain’s due later today.
But I’ll be inside, dreaming of a time,
And a place where the sun never goes away.

Oh take me down where the bright sea meets the sand,
And the dunes roll gently by the waves.
Can you help me? Oh, will you lend a hand?
And take me back to those summer days.

The Stuffed Man

Who is the Stuffed Man? The stuffed man is you and I. He is an enigmatic and ethereal being, more concept than reality. He is the dark underside of the gilded modern era. But he is always a gentleman.

Why should you care? Quite a pertinent question, if I do say so myself (which I do). The answer, in so many words, is you should care if: a. you are a male or b. you are not a male.

What is the point of this blog? The point of this blog is the sharp wit at the end of the pencil of truth. It is a pencil because pens are a synthetic invention of the industrial wasteland, as opposed to the natural, woody pencil. Even the word pencil, no tinniness to it.

Where do we go now? We go and get stuffed; it’s all we can do.