Follow by Email

Wednesday, 11 March 2015

There are songs

There are songs within sounds that echo the breath of eternity.
i sing,
the universe incarnate from these lips
which twist in forming syllables,
moulding decibels,
fragmenting time's continuum,
lost in a universe of verse.

Inner space cannot hear what is not felt
since for rhymes to sound, molecules must resound
shattering the serenity of being in tune
to silence,
still time.
While time binds minds to the tangible
rhyme frees minds from time.

As placed lips contour the origin of sounds
sculpted hearts predate the origin of thoughts.
Must i then curve my heart strings 
to intellectual things
before i learn to think with an action less complex?

I guess its true then.
My love is a notion,
drowned by a wave of perception.
thoughts thrown to anchor my heart 

only add to its heaviness.

one night....

i met her in a bar
eyes open, tights torn,
skirt short, soul worn
parading this assortment
for one to see through this guise.

she wanted to be seen
as she was before there was flesh
before there were bones
scattered en route to her thoughts
leading men to warped glimpses
of her essence

she wanted to be known
as it was when we existed as smoke signals
seen as spiralling clouds
charting our route to the sky
mapping our distance from the earth's core.
from our joint heart.

she wanted to be undressed
and unknown to the eyes of now.
unknown and felt
in distances relative
to a family tree she once knew,
weaving inbred branches,
leaves searching for the sun
wrapping lifetimes with its roots.

'oh brother where art thou?
i've stumbled only through lovers and wanderers
looking for a body
closer to my core'

she searched for love-like properties
in a compound element.
the formula her past handing her so jading her heart
it acquired the colour purple.
in vain she sampled masculine frames,
balanced frames make perfect shades,
tinting the windows of her soul.

i met her
soul in a bar,
stripped to its essence,
tied around her waist
in tightly wound knots
resembling bow-ties
resembling tied bows
aimed at hearts,
her body a sometimes dart.

i met her body in a bar
saw the axis of her pain
around which revolved her heart,
in slow circular motion.
slow enough to regard its trobbing,
giving clues to the speed
of her swaying body,
which, if held in the right time
could led to me touching her soul.
wrapped tightly, dirty and torn,
by fingers trying to unravel her.

i washed my hands of my past
i forged my family tree
i stole her heart
tied it with my roots
covered it with my branches
i unclipped her bra-strap
untied her soul,
and as it fell
in our moment of communal solitude
i whispered
i can see inside you.
its just my soul hovering
between us,
she replied,
i'm miles away.
i can see beyond you

now my body's free to roam.


She had nothing but time on her hands
and flowers on her palms,
blossoming psalms that spoke of forever.
She took the sun in her mouth,
placing rays on her tongue
filtering beams to her lungs
until her words glowed with existence.
She speaks an illuminated language
coloured with blood and years

She wrapped her hands in syllables 
and placed them on her womb,
crescent shape radiating words of the sun.
Years habituating deceased cultures 
forced her to speak a language extinct,
some strange garble of projected stigma.
Now, bearing an unlikely future 
heir to nothing yet all the air
she would be taught from the inside out,



i refuse to be seen by mortals
trading dreams for seams of a badly fitted perception.
So wrap me with the night,
that my flight may go unnoticed 
by terrestrial beings who only see matter 
radiating light.

Mine is a cloak of darkness
devoid of all historical connotations.
For as man evolved
beyond the superficial elements of flesh,
some wouldn't believe and stumbled the earth
with eyes rolled back in their sockets.
Forgetting that the pupil is such,
in learning to see beyond itself.

those who saw the light embraced the darkness
and the mysteries of the unseen
now they have surrendered
and prostrate themselves to the will of the universe.

Led by the darkness
that guides stars.
Planets seldom use torch lights

to navigate the sun.

Hand me the sun

Hand me the sun and i'll carve waves from rays,
bottled streams of beams
shimmering like the tide on a cloudless night.
Contained motion,
rocking with the flow of blood through veins,
life matter contained 
aglow with the sea's jubilant movement.

The tide is the earth's heartbeat,
i etch this pulse through the sun,
causing light to come in staves
bars of transparent rhythm captured
in a moment seen through my vase.

Can i now ingest this earth essence?
that my body may contain waves of light
so my soul can move and glow
with the tidal flow of an encapsulated 
wilderness brought to sight.
that i may dance
through nights and converse through days
with this rhythmic sway
moving through me and in me,
and in this moment of motion,
i shall be free to see
the glow that came  before,
before i was flesh,
before i was motion,
before there was motion.

And the sea continues to be lit.