The wind whispers
Sweet nothings
In my ear
A silent lullaby
That wages on
Silent tears stream
Down my red cheeks
A reminder
Of the bloodshed
For a moment
Everything stops
And I hear
The wind whispering
Beckoning me
Into the storm
Silently, carefully
Roaring sound ticks
thru the clock loud
thunder cloud
under-
neath the
bed my
head roars
rain pours
buzz buzz
drops hum
woman
sets things
right time by
clocks
locks the
hours tight-
This is the way it happened that night. I was
tooling and I was slicing. I was stock still. 2 nomads
popped across the hill. My radio said go, boy, and my
company said the same thing. Into that bag of lunch
stepped yours truly. In the dark, I could see only
three beans, each red and yellow offset by a green.
There was more time than I knew how to use I could
feel it nourishing the bones I might later throw into
action. Quite possibly an atomic storm riddled every
glimmering window. A familiar fear gripped my comb
and red wigs flew from my skull. Sense of urgency had
put me out into that silver space half destiny half
desire and now not one thing there did I know to do.
My rooms stood.
You can raise the dead,
make yr walls crumble.
(Now! the towers give way,
tumble like the sky
runs before a storm)
You talk long enough,
youll join yr own song.
Sure you can raise the dead--
Dont hesitate,
but watch what youre making.
How it moves without you
The iced winds calm my thoughts
They crash on the cliffs
The froth building upon impact
Save my soul
Help me out of this hole
Alone with the storm,
I clamber onto scraps of flotsam
I yearn to yomp out of these gallows
But you pull me back in
Save my soul.
The winds get wilder
The waves stronger
Untameable
A pause.
No wind.
Peace.
she was once asked
why she liked thunderstorms
She answered
" it drowns out my thoughts"
I guess our problems in life are a little like rainstorms:
You start with a drizzle
Which doesn't seem too bad
And is bearable
Then the storm hits
And you feel like there will never be a way out
But you have to remember,
Every rainstorm ends
I guess I'm just trying to figure out if I'm in a rainstorm
Or simply headed for an eye of a hurricane
Sometimes, I can't tell if it is rain or teardrops running down my face.
I long for silence, but the wind is screaming.
The wind, screams bloodcurling screams,
forcing my heart to beat faster than it did when you said those God-awful words.
When the wind screams, it sounds detached.
Like, it hears the screams, but can't realize they come from it's own mouth.
Maybe you broke the winds heart too.
Maybe you led it on.
Maybe your relationship with the wind was just as dysfunctional,
and now the wind is going insane with pain?..no, numbness.
The wind cannot feel, because there is only so much agony a heart can bare,
only so far you can tear it before it is shreds,
All of my zippers are broken
all of my t-shirts are stained
all of my words have been spoken
all off my hope has been drained.
There’s not much left or a place to go
there’s nothing left but be a statistic
there’s no place safe to have a show
there’s no new way to be deterministic.
They think of me when they want to forget
they give pain with each and every breath
they will be happy that I no longer sweat
they break the chain to become one with death.
It’s not your fault I’m a very hard case
it’s time to weather the storm of my life
it’s only in another time or warm place
it’s only with you I’ve been without strife.
it's a stormy day the glimpsed
sun ivory light through
leaden gray.
It was always your eyes
i thought of their
sky blue when glad
so sun-filled clear.
you were also the wind
the endless veils
and clarity after
a storm
with you I felt - yes,
desperate sometimes
but seen.
now your absence says
it's gray today
When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lower chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
‘Come out! Come out!’--
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,--
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road ungraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away,
And my heart owns a doubt
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God’s last Put out the Light was spoken.