Maybe the waves must glitter for a moment
Till the silence dies of chaotic thoughts
And if then our backs only ever scorch
The spirit of our sceptre lays dormant
Have you felt the lively rush of the waves
Thinking, if only life felt so empty
And then you choose the human remedy
Instead; not for Later's colourless caves?
Later is perhaps our precious dreamer
It is our sole pallbearer in this manner -
Glitter for the holy walls, for a moment.
Maybe the crashing waves must do for now
And leave us until we rise to the ground
That we may accept misfortune's remnant.
Sonnet No. 8
oh, my world.
Every single droplet heard
Falling onto your room's hard roof
Emptying the atmosphere of noise
Filling it with an ambiance of thought
Every crack of the fire's blaze
Warming your room's paranormal
Echoing heat until it touches your skin
Wandering inside your unmeetable soul
Every chord on the piano's keys
Interrupting your room's unaffection
Ending the voices of dissonant tones
Inclining its ear to the resonant cries
Every buzz of an oddly selected machine
Drying and washing your room's filth
Eating away the vanity of monotony
The turbulence of the road
Rocks the carriage here or there.
If only the streets were more leveled--
Perhaps instead like this is better;
Each bump the wheel hits
I know where it is--
Better to know where you're going
Than to have flat paths when you're blind.
Nothing.
Nothing is bliss.
Not ignorance.
Not intelligence.
Nothing.
How being famous
Looks to me:
The more you're known,
The less you be.
The more you have,
The less you are.
Motes of dust
On fickle winds
Hold life more dear
Than blazing stars.
the world is like two pitchers,
each poured into the other.
alas, a little spills.
and yet the more they
empty of themselves,
the more each one
is filled.
Shazam!
Nature treats us like sacrificial brutes.
The earth beneath the apple tree
awaits the falling fruits.
Still, the apple's sweet to me.
Where is Beauty amidst
The madness of our times?
Where she has always been:
In nature, however cruel;
In truth, however hard to bear;
In love, however unrequited;
In hope, however faint.
Ancient memories grip swords below their hilts. Question: whose blood to spill?
Living in a sand castle
Guess it's your choice
Guess it's your life
But what you gonna do
Next time the wind blows
Or it rains
And the whole thing crumbles
Falls apart
Will you live in an igloo until
You get too cold and
Melt it by mistake
Trying to keep yourself warm
A house of mirrors
It may look pretty but
What you gonna do
When a tornado comes
I took a wrong turn
On the straight and narrow
And ended up on a roundabout
Not exactly sure how it happened.
Why build a house
If you're gonna just
Lock it up and throw away the key?
Why create a language
Then teach it to no one
And let it fade away?
Why do we have roads
That lead to empty buildings and dad ends?
Why do we sit in a classroom
When the things we're taught
Have no real place beyond receiving a
Diploma at graduation?
Why are there minutes
Why are there hours
Since when have clocks been kings to whom men bow?
Yes I know