2004-05-11
Spasmotic Poetry
hearing: Nothing
reading: Emma by Jane Austen
wearing: a red pen in my mouth...a torrent of tangled hair...
I have been busy with very bad poetry... the offerings I am willing to show... (still kinda sorta in progress, although even though they need a lot of work, I might abandon them now)
Sands Of Time
As another grain of sand falls
Another page will turn
And a petal will drop
Off the passionate beginning
The moon seems to shine brightly
But there is a wintry frost behind it
Which will strip us bare
Down to hearts of black glass
And so the petals begin to collect in my hand
Yet I toss them away bitterly
I let the wind carry them away
And blow the sands of the hourglass between us
My crystal eyes tell me that night encloses
But the cold dampness of icy dew on my naked skin
Foretells a morning
Unexpected, beyond the glory
Of my pinpricked night
Is the fading of one flower,
Then the birth of a brighter?
Shall the ashes of glass,
Carve me a deeper passion?
Have I lived an elaborate dream,
Which I am now to awaken from?
Undine
(for lack of a better title)
She raises her arms
And summons a violent storm
She lets them fall and the waves crash over you
Beautiful and terrible
She calls up a sea to sunder you from her
In a kalediscopic passion of storms
With foam flecking your face and torrents of wind and water to drown you
She sheds her tears
and curses your love
O...O...Goddess of the sea
She creates her intricate castles of storms
Walls and armies to drive you away
As she puts on haughty indifference like a ravishing gown
You aspire too high
To a heartless goddess, the color of "jade"
Who can never love you back...