like an old black and white
day and night
we contrasted
yet focused
the exposure
and subsequent zoom
exhilarated us
framed our desires
like a flash bulb
we burned intensely
double negatives
making a positive
the chemicals
balanced
the brightness
profound
the results
picture perfect
"Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks." Simonides, 6th-5th century, B.C.
Friday, October 14, 2011
wishful thinking
ever search for something
for so long
put forth so much effort
that when you finally
found what you were looking for
you had no idea what to do next?
you feel like you come to a complete stop
and expect a miracle
or a miraculous change
but nothing is different
it's still the same old you
only
more empty.
I feel like that sometimes.
I don't know why I search when I know I will only
be left feeling sad
and empty
and lonely.
for so long
put forth so much effort
that when you finally
found what you were looking for
you had no idea what to do next?
you feel like you come to a complete stop
and expect a miracle
or a miraculous change
but nothing is different
it's still the same old you
only
more empty.
I feel like that sometimes.
I don't know why I search when I know I will only
be left feeling sad
and empty
and lonely.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
harbinger
she spoke in hushed tones
not to me
but around me
I could hear her voice in the wind
the trees, the grass
she spoke in whispers
and rhymes,
"time and time herein"
she repeated in every natural tongue
"you failed me yet again"
I cried and listened and shook
she spoke the truth
on the petals of a rose
and the barb of the thorn
she revealed the wishes
never granted, never fulfilled
of a gentle heart and open mind
she cursed the day and wept for the night
branches trembled at her fury
but clouds calmed her resolve
"you will see me again"
she foretold with a glass surface stillness
and she laughed
shrill echoes shattered the stillness
drowned out by distant thunder
then peace
yet there is no peace
for her
or me
until we meet again
not to me
but around me
I could hear her voice in the wind
the trees, the grass
she spoke in whispers
and rhymes,
"time and time herein"
she repeated in every natural tongue
"you failed me yet again"
I cried and listened and shook
she spoke the truth
on the petals of a rose
and the barb of the thorn
she revealed the wishes
never granted, never fulfilled
of a gentle heart and open mind
she cursed the day and wept for the night
branches trembled at her fury
but clouds calmed her resolve
"you will see me again"
she foretold with a glass surface stillness
and she laughed
shrill echoes shattered the stillness
drowned out by distant thunder
then peace
yet there is no peace
for her
or me
until we meet again
Saturday, July 23, 2011
on the brink
a whisper
only an idea really
implanted
by a figment of wind
a ghost of a thought
just passing
through the ether
onto the edge of consciousness
a blink of an eye
movement of
a hummingbirds wing
a flash - it's gone
leaving only
a whisper
only an idea really
implanted
by a figment of wind
a ghost of a thought
just passing
through the ether
onto the edge of consciousness
a blink of an eye
movement of
a hummingbirds wing
a flash - it's gone
leaving only
a whisper
Friday, April 1, 2011
I'm not
I'm not alive
though I breathe
I'm not dead
though I 'm numb
I'm not blind
though I see
I'm not real
though I am here
I'm not a lot of things
And I will be one more
as
a
finale
though I breathe
I'm not dead
though I 'm numb
I'm not blind
though I see
I'm not real
though I am here
I'm not a lot of things
And I will be one more
as
a
finale
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
introspection
undernourished
overexposed
under suspicion
over exerted
sometimes I can't get it right
and I look deep inside
and my inner child is weeping
sometimes I can't get enough
and I look deep inside
and my inner child is sleeping
underwhelming
overfed
under the gun
over the hill
sometimes I can't get away
so I look deep inside
and my inner child is laughing
sometimes I can't get focused
so I stare deep inside
and my inner child is cracking
that little bastard needs to die....
overexposed
under suspicion
over exerted
sometimes I can't get it right
and I look deep inside
and my inner child is weeping
sometimes I can't get enough
and I look deep inside
and my inner child is sleeping
underwhelming
overfed
under the gun
over the hill
sometimes I can't get away
so I look deep inside
and my inner child is laughing
sometimes I can't get focused
so I stare deep inside
and my inner child is cracking
that little bastard needs to die....
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