Archive for November, 2009

DECISIONS: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , on November 30, 2009 by ravenstooth
JOY
 
-The night enveloped me
Like the moon in awe
When the raven will caw
-Then the day has developed me
 
-The darkness paraded me
Like the stones hedged death
When I savored my last breath
-Then the lightness has charaded me 
 
-The black day stewed me
Like the opium stars melt
When the only thing I felt
-Was the sunshine that chewed me
 
-The early morning haunted me
Like voices from shadowed tears
That no one but me hears
-As the dawn knows it’s taunted me
 
 
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DECISIONS: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 30, 2009 by ravenstooth
Say a prayer for the mountains
A prayer for the sea
The volcano’s eruption
Is a natural catastrophe
Say a prayer for the flowers
A prayer for the smiling grass
The lion will devour
Any prey within grasp
To gain a natural high
With clouds so low
There’s only one good-bye
And only one hello
To reason without question
To gain without greed
Is like folly without tomorrow
To be cut and not bleed

DECISIONS: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 30, 2009 by ravenstooth
I AM THE WIND
 
I am the wind,
My son.
I am the world.
I am the sky.
I am the wind,
My son.
I am the bird,
You see fly.
I am the wind,
My son.
I am the tree.
I am the cave.
I am the wind,
My son.
I am the sea.
I am the wave.
I am the wind,
My son.
I am the rain.
I am the snow.
I am the wind,
My son.
I am the stain,
That colors the rainbow.
I am the wind,
My son.
I am you.
You are me.
We are the wind,
My son.
If you are true,
You will see
The wind my son.

DECISIONS: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2009 by ravenstooth
SHEDDINGS

And they wrote
“Here lies Hypocrisy”
On his lonely grave.
A man, naked without his spirit
A deceiver of truth,
An offender of guilt.
Shame overtook his love
He was backwards
Though he knew his confusion
He passed it off as nuance
Decorated with passion/lust.
He contradicted all possibilities as a
Non-rational, egotistical, one-way
Fool.
And they were the same…

DECISIONS: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2009 by ravenstooth
POWER
 
And
at
night
I
tell
my                                        Have you found
sorrow                                your hands?
to
sit
in                                            While traveling
the                                         through lands                                   
corner                                   of
until                                    hills and caves
tomorrow                         and dry river sands.
And
watch
me                                          Have you found
dream                                  your hands?
of
wishes
obscene.                             While dreams
Then                                      of bands
wake                                      that
me                                           live and die
at                                              and leave strands.
light
to
tell
me
all
his                                             Have you found
sight.                                       your hands?

DECISIONS: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2009 by ravenstooth
WORLD DEVOURED ME
 
Begin…
again she cried
As I lay down and
died.  A tickle
from a sickle may change
a dime into a nickel.  Although we
are told, when bread turns to gold, and when we die
we change to mold.  So I bow my head toward deceiving
moments of a photo that hasn’t been taken, drawn or remembered.
Here it is, the last race; the important dance around the burning bush.
Talking in dreams that had potential.  King and queens
ask why, and the jesters reply is nothing but a sigh.  Imperial
freedom in an industrial order.  Shock wasted dream and you’re nothing
but a butterfly to me.  Dazed untruth and the ink blots in my mouth,
I’m heading south.  Today we anchor the tides.  Into the dream the
girl is red.  Into a vision the taste is dead.  Philosophical scrimshaw,
Repetition in a bath full of disease.  Baffled enjoyment to fill
my cup with anticipation.  Stone hedge, lurks grave diggers.  SKULLDUGGERY
Merchant escape; plagued innocence and a paperback to read while
masturbation eclipses the drive.  Cars and trucks, toys for boys.
As long as the clouds cry the roads will be fill with hydroplane.
Air lift casualties and the desolate moan of an aching beast.
Dead ponds of toxic waste on this place controlled by a race that
has no value in a face.  We or me is the only thing that matters?
Stagnant valor, colors of skin, burnt embryo and the Indians sob
in a dry river.  Flowers that sing to the sun.  Peers challenge
the young.  No wonder we’re all fucked.  Think, for nothing
is nothing is something and something is nothing.  SURE?!  Friends
to consider, or two-faced persuasion.  Intricate dubs and thugs toward
the city we go.  Carnivores we’re not herbicides here to.  Junkies, yes
with the tastes of luxuries in between the seams, I hear a girl scream.
She cried again and all I could challenge was a peaceful night sleep.
END…

DECISION: THE END DEAD

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 29, 2009 by ravenstooth
DEVOUR ME WORLD
Start…

Disassemble your
Provocative journey.
We mourn in glory
As the moon jade storms our heart.
Passion a given- dreams of you from the past
Pleasure.  Remember life’s long answers.
Dull array of turning eyes that glisten when spoken too.
She plays a part of a sad little crucifier.
My friends are starving, for their minds
engulf curiosity.  People behind masks, picture shows of satire.
Bodies lie strewn across vast fields of ash and grotesque ritual.
Birds of flight pillage dormant clouds while peek through women’s bathrooms.
Sands are mine, grains and vines of wine; thanks for local smoke.
Barmaid’s concoction teases scrotums of unyielding fever.
Hoax, hex are what’s next in lands yet discovered.  An omen for a day, a minute or forever.
Wrenching stubborn intervals with brandy tunes and slobber residue.
Mixed tricks, flicks and wet dicks.  She’s rising to obedience.
Fowl jam stew; kettle hot steaming brew, when I loved you.
Pages fumbled for lost writings; a poet spoke in tongues of mastery, misery and magic.
Tantalizing friends, strangers and ghosts in hew and foggy lakes, where lovers gather for resolution.
No connections under blankets of  water.  Laughing children running free,
wildly panting and waiting for the day when feelings last a lifetime.
She seduced me in the fire.  I called to the tower porter in chance of chaos.
Determined legends, myths and a mime that spoke every language.
White fences, guitars, feathers in hair and mound of dirt graciously freeing
souls in a bucket of shit.  Court ants march in a transient display, while mongers
spit at freezing hands.  I’m not an albatross, I’m a frantic sunset with eyes that dance.
Touch me- and you’ll see. 
Finish…