Category Archives: #analogies
Now my Gown and Tulle
feel the Wind that weaves a Shade –
and on the roof i cannot tell
since the picture there is –
because Time, a Form, stood a-hiding
and well It did.
Words and Music (my own)
Performed by James Dale
and Love.
“He is oft-injured by his men
or with their Menages,
‘I think I hear him say:
“His Portents are the Dews –
His Words the Dews – and Mine –
His Ends are Ieya’s.
“I wish this next Scene were ended
with the Destination of my own Fate –
“The Flight of Orpheus, I suppose,
“Off the Coast of Homer’s Folly –
Or Death – to Eternity.”
Futility was King in the play, under the pen of D. H. Lawrence.
I hope he was a reader of Shakespeare.
Well, I cannot write about this.
It is really too late.
There was an early book, and there is always another.
The fact that Lawrence is a poet is very well known;
and many of his poems have been put to music.
i have heard those – sometimes for many times – though
i should hate to go against the dead.
A great deal is being written about D. H. Lawrence
in the second decade of the twenty-first century.
:: 01.26.2021 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #blood, #flesh, #ink, #paper, #poem, #words | posted in #abstract, #aching, #all of me, #alone, #analogies, #angst, #awaken, #beautiful, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
i wish I had more time and opportunity to explain my disgust to your rust-stained sarcophagus. To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth to your rust-stained sarcophagus!
To offer a calm palate of meditative colors for our feelings (why not) — you seemed so surprised to be called from a glass prison.
Oh, blessed crystal, what do I have to do to kiss your hand with a succulent kiss for you have forgotten the grain of truth and your heart could only love the person who feeds it for nourishment — is a difficult task; so you resorted to Cupid’s slingshot!
But here’s an alternative: follow my heart down the garden path, until my sticky feet block the entrance of Cupid’s grave.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the jar of colorful paint and I will show you the
sparkle of love.
Here — get me the fork and I will show you the flavor of our love
that came from one man.
Here — get me the ball and I will smash it across my canvas of life.
Here — get me the pencil and I will draw you a gentle, tender picture.
Here — get me the paint bucket and I will lay it on a canvas of life
It was exactly 14 days since you told me you left the store early.
14 dreary days and I do not think you’ve been here once (not that I
would blame you for believing it).
14 days since I was mean to you, and then you said you’d be back
by 14.
:: 12.24.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #death, #hearts, #ink, #life, #love, #paper, #pen, #pencil, #poetry, #romance, #skin, #thoughts, #wonderful, #writers | posted in #1800s, #abstract, #aching, #analogies, #confession, #depression, #fascination, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets, #prose
SHE will say what love is:
and yesterday told me so.
doesn’t matter if the sun
is bright or the longest
of rainy days — i could
never know/mentioned how
a few true men are:
doesn’t matter if the sun
is bright or of darkest
days their true hearts are
as good as gold.
:: 07.31.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #few, #gold, #hearts, #love, #men, #poetry, #prose, #true | posted in #1800s, #abstract, #analogies, #analysis
EVERY night of every day i take my love to bed
yea; Leave my heart upon the
dinner plate for the cold
, oh ;
at night its must worse
oh how these lonely tears
fall away screaming
all within silence
So I ask God, “what do i do?”
and listen to the song of
a bird dying each note
all within the long-time
backyard inside my head___
so i’m coming Home now: no need to leave
my heart upon the alter of pain & sorrow.
:: 07.19.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #birds, #feelings, #hands, #heads, #heart, #hearts, #ink, #melody, #minds, #paper, #poems, #prose, #skies, #soul, #sun, #thoughts, #words | posted in #1900s, #analogies, #analysis, #angst, #anguish, #antics, #decisions, #evenings, #lonely road, #please, #poems, #poet, #poetess, #poetry, #poets
TOO! i am too tired for Love___i drained
my member silently this day: of no love,
fanfare nor beauty i did this to die again/
the sun was rolling upon my house’s roof
and all the neighborhood dogs howled
in joy at the large yellow bouncing ball
of fire and death\and me –alone.
:: 07.17.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #amazing, #butter, #butterfly, #fly, #mind, #poetry, #prose, #soul, #souls, #spirits | posted in #1800s, #analogies, #analysis, #angels, #angst, #anguish, #antics, #Fridays, #kindness
WATCHING the animal within her cage;
eyes of ibex and look too closely
into an eye –> it is the sound of the class
you are / e v e r y t h i n g is where
it belongs\ all inside
and all — right where it
belongs as if everything
around you aren’t quite as
it seems )( negative reflections
: a l l you wish to be | but if you
could look right through Christ —
would you find yourself afraid?
to see as Narcissus staring and
hiding within a tree — so everything
around you are not quite as it seems
and the world you used to know
was an elaborate dream.
hey! wait! i have a new complaint
dressed myself within angel’s hair
and baby breath /broke your hymen with
-in prose-purple noose.
:: 07.15.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #end, #hungry, #ink, #poetry, #prose, #starving, #words | posted in #abstract, #abuse, #alone, #analogies, #analysis, #angels
SOMETIMES honesty is heard as:
“blah blah blah blah wee blah!”
we are familiar with that
fake voice
— we People have been a part
of a process that has existed
for a great while now; it is
the psychological conditioning
to not even know the Truth when
it stares you straight in the Face.
:: 05.19.2020 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #eprobles.com, #hearts, #ink, #paper, #poetry, #prose, #souls, #words | posted in #abstract, #analogies, #analysis, #broken, #broken soul, #broken verse, #poetry
All my analogies have rebelled
wishing a place among the living
stripping away their cloak of
innuendo
And with fang and claw
they take me
:: – ::
Leave a comment | tags: #analogies, #poetry, #thoughts, #words | posted in #analogies, #thoughts, #words
