you tried to sell your soul
for
another dollar;
more
would have been too much.
Month: March 2014
-
you tried to sell your soul
-
we’re alone because of who we are
and this world,
this
orb/
misshaped,
holding on to us
as though needed we are,
though we know
it will continue without us,
this world follows cycle
but observed and meant only
as a means of being, this world
gives us view of life
most extraordinary, in
hopes others exist as same,
despite likelihood of
diversity, much like
we witness
without knowing
we are already not alone.how absolutely silly
to wonder if we are alone
when the world holds
our friends, our fellows,
and we treat them as resources.
how absurd to think
one would want to
play with the child
slamming its friends and toys
against the floor,
while screaming for
another.
-
voluntas
voluntas
giving in is more than i
expected of myself, but
there’s a reason for ever-
ything.i forgot the meaning,
left before seeing
the error made.as many spaces
between thought
prior and thought
now, and i still
cannot absolve
myself of all
that’s been said;
as many words
written, between
then and now, i
cannot unknow
what i did not
know then.giving in
is more than i
expected of myself,
but the small hand
moves slow enough
that i could catch up,
stumble ‘on,
keep going,
and all those other
mediocre phrases
coined to
make one ignore defeat.giving in is more than i
expected of myself, but i
know more now than ever
the lights on corner shine
whether i’m muddied or fine.giving in is more than i
expected of myself, but i
guess pride is sold high,
while i knew only my
self, and no visitors,
but those from space,
came to visit, and i knew
the tiger stripes on
rain-soaked window would be
the only memory, for i
could control that moment, i
could wipe them away, or
sit and love their
path, the one of
least resistance, where
the reward is pooling,
lasting longer than if
they had stayed to dry
without…giving in, i guess i
saw myself in ruin,
having given more
than taken, though
not if family counts.returned to find
the memories of
a mind, failing
to see what waits
behind an image, or
animations, tuned-in
and clear, while
shadow crackles
’round who i was
behind eyes used
sparingly to see
myself, to see
anyone not in
front of me;
i gave in to
forgetting,
falling for
the clarity
of no conscience,
no scenery
not in front of me.
-
The City
He loved the establishment,
Though only enough to enter
Through a faded wooden door
Along the side of the bulding,
Between the corner and a
Neon sign lit, “FOOD,” where
The word, “Fine,” had been
Turned off.
-
Having [Once] Read Shakespeare
faulty towers store but what is gained,
’til foundations, once unknown, grow to be
razed by way of fields tilled for grains,
fruits, plucked, ‘stead fallen of’ th’ trees.
same is seen when muted children know
only laughter comes when silence falls
on hands so small, and burdened fingers bow
to stage a crash in cause of Juno’s call.
but a brook, babbling by, a constant grants reason
to this life, and moves us, progeny,
near’ to roots, waiting to show [wo]man seasons,
come and go, can still our leaves.
and how words and wisdoms, best absorbed
through means of life, become our souls.98
gives and takes stones to as would
any mover of ‘scapes and lands;
and that is these, the sonnets,
plays and particularies of a craft
whose direction knows no compass,
as plates plagued by feet do not,
able more to crush than remain,
though giving be their blessings,
despite mighty winds be follies’ gain,
do words and wisdoms best absorbed through means of life become brains.