The ephemeral disgust of an Eastern accent
Denotes a certain preparation for death
That I find irresistibly attractive
As we come to winter
We will come to find solitude
The poetry turned dry in my mouth
Waiting for the bleary eyed sunset to pass
This lovely October falling
Toward her quite so open ear
And silent tongue
As vast as the ocean
Where my words do sail upon
Echoing ineffable
Inaudible she reaches to respond
A softening breath
As only to softly pass on goodbye
Close the sea we weave interstices
Having wept so god forsaken long
There is no more sadness to softly mumble
The shrilling screech of the violin to halt
As the child has passed a lullaby
Out a muffled weary song
And passed away
A dreamer in the veil of life we carry on
Despondent
A ruse to chaos to justify the order
Logic numbing steady materia
Chameleons to rationality
Need not carry discourse
In order to justly silent agree
Respect and carry on encompassing
The mathematization of emotion
(A static/asexual) mask to (feign/deny)
To don this hallows’ eve
All becoming
Honing in on thy prey
The violin is the child
Hanging in the gallery
The connoisseur (a-sexual) predator
Longing for her daughter
Having drowned so innocently
In the ceremony of our reason
A baby girl
Protector of humanity
Emotion found its logic
In the final throes of a fuck
And denied it
Tossed it to the (faint/feigned) howls of lust
And I felt the flutter of the pigeons
Taking flight behind my stride
Like angels I need not turn back to sea
As I can sense the wild eyes
Already staring out of thine
And I must walk my steady course
Until my passions take to flight
Having run reiterations dry
Despite the choice we make
We are committing to a life quite naked
THERE IS NO REASON NOT TO FOLLOW THY HEART
There is no logic in denying emotion
We bare our love on (a-cross) abreast
Wishing good night our children slumbering
Buried quite
Within our souls
Though having run our dire course
Is she waiting for me still?
Or am I lest a mere
Still wishing for her ghostly?
Having offered sacrifice of love
The child of thy heart
A fool to his stubborn pride
And forcing the structure closed
Is there anyone listening at all at all?
I’m crying out for help!
I’m dying all the time
My child my spirit
Listen well to my rhetorical soul
As ’tis the shell thee will grow into
Come to humbly know
Thy solitude has ripened
Have been plucked up on the winds
And will sail on off to sea
Upon where thy’ll be thrown
Before the gods dancing high in crest
The sparkling of the water
Perched to swim to coast
Thy swells collapsing thee
All I want the salty air
To whisper to my spirit
That all is right in the world
That my being will be a bountiful echo
In the vast reiterations of time
And the discord of my intellect
Will be sewn tight
Sweetly done
Weaving blind a tapestry of abyss
In the pigments of a dusty shelf
The pathological disturbances
And when the many rivers of thy tongue run dry
Remember that an angel sent thee here to suffer thirst
In order rapture might be thine to scavenge
And for the sake of thy posterity
My angel of a child
I’ve conceived of thee in discord
And before I can quite grab my hold
I can sense the vultures
Feel the tug of wild shores
This life is a desert
A boundless ocean floor
And the ticks of time will stretch unfathomable
As the measure runs indiscreet
Ah the grandiose of love
Is thy child prostrate at thy feet
The mane on a moonless night
And every fasting moment
Masters an eclipse of spirit
Thy child dearest passing on
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