Poetry

Greg
PROFILE About me Friends (3) Poetry (49)


11 march 2014

A Pounding Song that Drowns out the Pain

Sweet God Almighty
The resurrection is here
I’ve been pushed over the edge
And fell into my fingers
Into my forearms and a painstaken ledge
To slash open my throat
And feel the blood
Gushing, hemorraghing from my neck
To fill the open wound
A cataclysmic prison
That shatters with a guitar strike
That makes the children shiver
Because they saw that their coats
Were made of toxic glass
Took them off in musical warmth
But now the song has past
 
So far out is the reach
Of a gloomy angel near
For one hundred dead gone lullabies
That ciphen up your ear
A metal plate clashes grey
Sparks fly from your eyes
Together when the dreams come true
The peasants start to cry
For what has come of life is just
To watch the efforts die
 
But relinquish nothing
And strive forward in faithful agony
You are the son of Abraham
And the moment you cease to strive
You will form
For you will continue to strive
But only so fast as to be caught in the current
So stay positive and move forward
 
Drenched in the languor of language
The conceptual piece meal that drips from the cage
The love that’s gone missing
To crevice the losers
In a dark alley and make them all hate
Each other
Because inside has become out
Caught on the limb
Of all reasons past
But internally free
To infinity
Manifest joy
And hold nothing to me
The song was once over
But it has started again
To beat an old rhythm
Loose from the hymns
Should I read? Or should I learn?
Drench in the game of peace
To what little nonsense
Give the traction to hold
And again the light is coming up
Again the surrender is hyper
And spring time brings demise
For what is the angel?
I have to ask questions
Because the answers
Have run dry
I’m trying to beat back the rush
But as soon as I look
The object forms
And Oh my god its hideous
It must be suppressed
In the guarantee that this moment now
Is what is, for me
 
I am dancing step after step
Racing so fast
That my mind quiets into a single pointed touch
A focus on the feel of each note
The harmonics of each vibration
I never want to see myself
But annihilate myself in song
In poetry that no one can read
I wrote it too fast
For it to belong to me
Faster than the city
Faster than the bloom
I have killed the flower
So I will never have to watch it die
I am the hole in the earth
The flitting butterfly that must be kept inside
How could such a thing be done???
 
The world may be cruel
But my tear drops are blue
Straining out of the abyss
Into the forest of tomorrow’s past
To make a story of my life
To whore out to myself inspite
Of knowing that to look makes me
So uncomfortable
A lonely prostitute of experience
Fallen from the graces of a metaphysical queen
That broke division all together
By bringing love into the golden triangle
And spend squares into the light
Together another reach
A grasp a breath
 
I want to stop talking
I want to stop writing
But if I do the walls will break
And I will feel the ache
Of restlessness
That makes my soul quake
The harder I try
The harder I fall
All in all
 
I am nothing
Let me disintegrate
For when I was nothing
I could make connections
I hate reflecting
Want to just feel
The sorrow as well
Reflection is death
Wept by the glamour
Together at death
Together at best
 
Breath 2
I am running and running
So fast from myself
The truth it comes out
On line number 50
Because there’s only so long
You can lie
And make a soul-juice box
As the terror does die
Hold on to nothing
But if you don’t you will die
So I hold to illusion
That time has ripped by
Because my hopes stay down
At least I think that’s why
The barren-ness of a glacier
Turns to a spectacle in the sky
 
If I keep writing for hours and hours
Day after day
Eventually my pain
Will be turned into gold
I hope so
I hope so
If I don’t see me then
I can devote myself
To a reference of my head
Because who is this my?
If love has gone by
The immutable taste
Then what is there left
In the soul left to rape
What can friends say
The defense is my death
To make myself someone
Brings me so free
I cannot look anymore
And I don’t see why
I should
So I run run run
And just pay attention to myself
Not to my reflection
 Break the fractal
I have to stop writing or I will see myself
Not be myself
 
Ahhh blast the buttefly
Sting a monkey on her cunt
And bring a lot of love
To gleam in the midnight sun
To redo the pain of nothing
To link up into the stars of castration
An old imagination
That holds up a sign
Of undying taste
To leave you in waste
As incurable taste




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