– Analogous Eulogy –

So that song may be sung again

This is the standard from

which I base my taste.

Our favourite form of

rebellion is self-destruction.

Nature and nurture, the

differences between people.

Then call it something else,

at nineteen, I stopped counting.

I thought of becoming

a doctor at some point.

May we be wrapped around

until the sounds meet the colours.

She was caste in clay, before

being burried.

We seek attention, acknowledgement,

recognition.

Smoke and talk until

we forget about sex.

Roaming the silent lands,

each thought echoes,reverberates

against the silence.

Is the soliloquy.

Sent in stone.

One for this reality.

That by boredom’s sake,

I would be wed to Deathe.

And awaken that sleeping name.

Touch, these lips.

So that song,

may be sung

again.

 

xxx.

Cloudy be

the day

But not

the night

 

let the

stars shine

through

In clarity,

the lullaby

of Mother

Moon

 

Breathe

easy now

my children

Up water

spouts, shall

the spiders

journ’

 

After journey

now we

shall adjourn

And meet

again

Beneath

the sun

xxviii.

Scribbled beneath

the margins

Passing through

the sides

 

Knawing each

page into

pulp

 

Sculpting

rubble into

debris

 

And piece

together

nothing from

the long

sought forgotten

fragments of each

time worn

tablet.

xxvii.

The ideas

return

In a rush

and flurry

 

No longer

do they

muddy the

waters

 

In clarity,

they arise

Arise and

rise up

 

Raise them

Others sunk

after they

are thought

through

xxv.

Dance ye

dames, ye

thoughts

In your convoluted

gest’

 

Thine jest

of muses

As if upon

a stage

 

Mine, the

theatre of

fools and naive

thrones

 

A muttering

of the mute

that falls,

that only falls

upon these ears

of deaf spectators

 

A dance only

for the blind

To be understood

by the ignorant

and dumb

Felt only by the numb.

xxiii.

Come clarity,

I discoer

new emotions

 

Human conditions

at their vivid

limits

 

In seeking insight

these come

unsought

 

Thoughtless and

unthinking

Sinking upwards

Others float

below

xxii.

Desecration

as that

sphere of

decadence

 

All light

bursting

into

a carousel

 

Lunar

flares

into blissful

chills

 

All held

in the

centre

as above

So below