24 October 2009

Blase, Benign.

I never did speak
For the words unsaid
They sound a little weak
For feelings undead

Stirring in the depths
Golden and red
Without pretence
Love intense

Like a bird upon a wire
The ant on your toe
The first flower in spring
The curve of your brow

It had its rights
It had its wrongs
It had everything
Fit for a song

So long to the memories
Goodbye to the nights
It's just days
And just more ways

Please, take a seat
Till the pages fill
The cups to the brim
Till the fingers bled

Till I walk all the way
To Shangri La
And back

To a cacophony of carcasses
A flutter of dread
Belligerent, it grows

A cycle of bliss
And malaise foregone
The intensity of felicity
To where it belongs

Blessed and bless'd
With the weight of memories
It did so snap
And up we wrap

The curtains close
A cyanide dose
Sachharine sweetness
A red dress in shreds

Hope and mental flux
Stuck, hard luck
Take a bow
Sing out loud

Making of hay
In green meadows
A starving tree
On the seashore

Confused, adamant, it goes,

In the desert
Mustard flowers
On a concrete road


A break from reality
A trip to insanity

Just a
Winning streak
Till the stage is set
Till the egos are fed.