Artless In The City

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Artless In The City

Thursday, August 7, 2014 BuzzingI used to sing,
when people weren't looking,
in the halls of my head,
now I don't.
Silence falls,
all around me,
deafening,
there is only the noise
of my tinitis
buzzing at night,
when I've turned it all off.

Posted byUnknownat11:26 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest Friday, August 1, 2014 The GreyThe Grey

4/9/2013

Do you see your life in black and white?
Like an old TV set, filtering through the airwaves, in UHF distortions.
However you turn the dial it just doesn't resolve clearly.
Always adjusting, slapping the side, of the plastic box, contorting the antennae, wrestling a giant glowing insect.
The signals come in, but you lose track of what is real and what is fact, from what is just flights of fancy and what you desire. All the world becomes a soft glow, a luminescent blue hue.
The episodes peel off the hours, dramas written for another age; people who have long since changed the scripts Posted byUnknownat1:26 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to PinterestLetter to the ForsakenLetter to the Forsaken

12/16/2012

I have looked for you,
in the stories left behind;
in the survivors you spared,
and their stories of harrowing terror,
in the forensics of your crimes,
the slides and photos,
the notes and anecdotes.

I have read, and looked,
to decipher your machinations,
in fiction and fact,
pulp and celluloid,

I think I know you now,
but I will never truly understand you,
for that I would have to empathize,
and you have gone beyond what I can ponder.

You have excised yourself,
from the family of man,
you are the lost phantom,
the ghost in the wind.

I cannot follow,
where you tread to complete your journey;
divorced as you are from sanity by choice.

I will stay here,
with the living and their light,
and once in a while we will wonder why,
but we won't give it too much thought,
for you are beyond the veil,
of hope and humanity,
the living demand too much of our attention,
the innocent deserve too much of our love.

We will see your apparition,
once in while, in the corner of our eye,
stalking in the dark halls,
between the trees, in the savage woods,
and your cry of vengeance for wounds
true or imagined, will sound like
faint howling, muted by the wind,
that has blown you to dust.

But it will only remind us,
of something we need to forget,
a momentary lament for something
we can never know
because you chose to leave the world of love,
with the act severed us,
from the chance to apprehend you,
as only fellow humans can.

Posted byUnknownat1:25 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to PinterestDon't DespairDon't Despair

12/14/12

sometimes what else can we do, but sing, write, or share a cathartic song: we know it's futile, it's not bringing anybody back - we can only wonder what makes some go over the edge; to give in to darkness and despair - to utterly give up on life, hope and humanity so thoroughly you decide it's not just worth giving up but destroying it on your way down - what can you do; if it's not guns, it's bombs like the miscreants who blew up the hp murrah federal building in Oklahoma. if they are hell bent on it they will use what ever is at their disposal - has it come to the point where not matter where or who you are; you have to maintain vigilance - against the barbarians among us - who hide next to us - on the streets - in the subways - in our towns and suburbs; or do we choose to live without care; knowing tomorrow can be the last moment we have - because some one else is having a bad day; to live fearlessly in the face of their shallow death wish - because they are powerless to create anything but destruction - the uttermost impotence in their failure at living life. some are truly misguided souls, disillusioned, mistaken in their beliefs to some twisted logic. but some are nothing but cowards; afraid to live life, or afraid to accept it as it is, to move from their loses or try to gain from them in wisdom; so they lash out at the rest of us - because of one slight - one gesture - that was the tipping point; incapable of forgiveness for wrongs imagined or real - judge jury and executioner - existential tyrants - ruling without mercy; let us live on in spite of them - let us choose to persevere through our conflicts be they political, ideological or philosophical; to strive to know our nature and to master it - instead of squander it with despotic zeal. let them know we are not afraid, unlike them, to livePosted byUnknownat1:23 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to PinterestHourglassHourglass

4/8/2012

My hour glass, seems to stand so still,
But the grains run out, quantum differentials,
That cut time, according to their whim, till the years become hours,
And hours become thoughts,
That are here then gone,
Like flowers, like rain, like the sand,
In the oceanPosted byUnknownat1:21 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to PinterestI ImagineI Imagine

1/8/2012

I imagine that I am,
and you as well?
Perhaps it is,
and this as well,
and,
did you see, the eyes that welled for you?
or was it for me?
I cannot tell,
it haunts me still,
and I am the loneliest man in the world.

There are no ways to say it,
I made a mistake,
I made it,
a concoction of eros,
and ether,
aformidablelie to my own sight,
and where did it lead me,
except back to where I began,
alone, alone, alone,
that is my karma,

What did I do in my past life,
to deserve this?

Or was it my vanity in this one?
Or was it my sins in the future?

A sentience searches for answers,
there are none.

The only answer is to go on,
pointless, as the myriadplankton,
that ebb in the sea,
swallowing each other,
to gain an edge against the mystery,
of nothingness,
that confronts us all,
at the end, of our misery.

I apologize for this misdeed,
of pointlessdrudgery
that guides one nowhere,
for I am nowhere,
till I find an answer,
till I find freedom.


Posted byUnknownat1:19 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to PinterestA Lament9/25/2011
A Lament

A lament, for the man I was,
he is gone,
the dream that was his,
is no more,
yes, I must admit,
in so many ways
I led myself down the rabbit hole,
chasing the ether,
to make my self go deeper,
farther than I've ever gone.
Those things,
that gave me momentary bliss,
could not with stand the truth of it,
the denial,
it worked for so long,
serving to protect my ego,
fragile as it was,
it had to break sometime.
There are words,
to describe it,
but it escapes me.
I'm sure Robert Louis Stevenson,
gave it a name, it was Mr. Hyde.
I don't want to be him,
that wild lunatic,
braying at the moon,
drifting through the fog of night,
an apparition, even to himself.
So many times,
it came so close,
fate had other plans,
to keep me here,
tethered to the mortal coil.
Sometimes I wander,
if in another universe,
I have already passed,
and that this is all just a dream,
a penance, for the life I took,
the life I was so eager to give away.Posted byUnknownat1:18 PMNo comments: Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest Older PostsHomeSubscribe to:Posts (Atom)about:A place for my darkest thoughts, and my darkest arts, may no spell from this cast upon anyone but me.FollowersBlog Archive 2014(13) August(13)BuzzingThe GreyLetter to the ForsakenDont DespairHourglassI ImagineA LamentThe Light is GoneThe Poets ChoiceA JokeThe EmbersAnd the SunFalling Out and Out

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