Sometimes the past returns, a past that was only bitter and now it's bittersweet, a tug and pull of an old love which is always tragic for some of us. These are a few new poems...
YOU ARE MY
DARKNESS
4th.october.2014
“Who, if I cried, would hear
me in the angelic order?”
-Rilke
At 4:15 pm today I shed
tears for you
they’d had a ten year
break,
you are my darkness
with you my voice loses all
warmth
tenderness never exits you
unaltered
my body held together out
of bits of loneliness
your words are sorrow
my spirit passes thru your
hands, shredded.
your dominion grows deeper
in a sea of black verse
love is a marooned lost
idiot
the price paid to be with
you,
your darkness is mute
your darkness is patient
your darkness is denial
voice made of pain
dissector of soul
your name is death
you are my darkness
I love you,
waiting for your crumbs
half-glances left to the insignificant
love finds her way to
shore
but with you becomes a fading
candle
in this marble castle
you’ve built out of hearts of men
flesh of tenderness
skinned alive,
slowly flickering away
leaving only memories inside
discarded bones
say nothing
don’t stare
push me out
to the streets of my city
where sun and people pull
the strings of possibility
your curse fades into shadows
of what was
waiting to lead me back to
your gate
to kiss me again, lure me
again
smiling when that who was
me is in ruins
you pretend not to be
ruinous
but you cant help it, your
body deceives
pale skin with the eyes of
an efficient angelic assassin
given the task of
destroying the works of poets in love…
THE MANY
IFS
10th.october.2014
if I could write a poem
that held the moonlight in
it
and all the rain
I’ve watched fall while
thinking of you
that poem I would call the
sea
dark as your heart,
precious, dangerous
is this love returning?
is it memory finding
itself again?
if I could fill this page
with life in each word
counting out snowflakes
of winters missed
winters without you
I would call that the turn
of the road
if you could write a song
for me
perhaps this pen would dry
and lose all its tears…
I RAN INTO
KIERKEGAARD
8th.october.2014
My body sleeps it’s 2 in
the morning
my spirit slips away to
take a walk
bringing along inspiration
and my heart,
the streets are very cold
lunar eclipse above the
clouds
street lamps filter alleys
with shadows
in that silence under
orange moonlight
nothing says anything, no
need for a voice
somehow up in the
buildings we left
bodies sleep like mine,
dreaming of lost loves
heart and inspiration keep
their pace
reaching the city’s edge
by the water
ocean all around them
San Francisco stretches
across past the fog bank
inspiration thinks of
finite things
heart imagines infinite
possibilities
leaps into the abyss of
knowing
doubt in words
feelings disperse in the
fog
descents into a soul of
confusion
with footnotes to decipher
heaven or hell
ocean breeze becomes
intoxicating
a dark counsel as well
heart and inspiration melt
into its essence
moon hits their spot
fog bank is now an alley,
somewhere in San Francisco
bodies awaken
somewhere at the beginning
of faith
he thinks of her
somewhere in a solitary
beach
she dreams, but not of
him, but of Kierkegaard’s leap…
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