Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Friday, 1 June 2012
Purple Sage
Twisted, two obligations
Various considerations listed
Insistent, feel the lost thoughts lost again
Abstain, you are tied to, lie as to self the same
Upside, downside, cushioned comfort field or frame
Lain with those extrapolated and pilloried stains
Regain a mind at once so clear, free of fear
No more of Baudelaire or Stenigot, not now
Not then, no paradise of shock, no lock of hair
As silk slipped frost, all cost subscribed fulfilled
Drilled into safe emotive cells, wellbeing that dwells
On the printed page, that tells of itself’s own story
Through the spoken word; so absurd; no
Reader, no listener, no viewer, no friend, no word
From the past or from the future; only the untold echoes
Reverberations that you heard but could not put
To a time or place, as if the race and the line, the
Call of mine, mine, mine; sublime in it's truth
Dutiful youth to wayward...
Struth how might you hold on to this
Old stories been and gone, levitations and escapologists
On the silver screen, what do we mean
What do we mean, what do we mean
It seemed straightforwards, to tell of hurt
In that the void of breath or blood should
Be so impossible to state, unable to relate
As flowers wilt and waters dry, as passions rise
Their chosen time closed to cry: "try, try, try"
Let her go, let it die, say no more, be so fly
As to tell it never mattered, may you scatter
Letters, sounds, utterances, the found remnants
Of lust and love, to be trusted by lost accounts
Recompense to follow old and trusted paths
Last laugh and all that crap, you never said
Dead until death us do part, let's start again
The day of it
The all but forgotten Zane Grey of it
The absolute pure flight and foreplay of it
a poem from In & Out of Dream Space
Love Embellished by Visitations click anywhere on
the text for details