When her scent is forgotten,
When the night stretches long, I now comprehend.
May passion continue, fate smile, life remain and blossom.


Broken BraceletAs we were joined another link was rent To the land where your consumate days were spent Warm wooden beads, too light an anchor When attachments hungry canker devoured those roots Which once drunk from fertile soil ripe with lifeBroken Bracelet
You gave to me
That simple circuit that embraced your wrist So sadly severed by our own soft spent embrace Each round moon disappated into the darkness of that dingy back bedroom
And always i find them, shining through the cracks and crumbling corners Of life's mundane facade


The Youngman's ValedictionHe remembers the young man Who stood so tall and proud,The Youngman's Valediction
Whilst his charges withered and died Their sunken chests, Ribs protruding like teeth, Maws gaping for sustenance, Even when withered to a husk Stacked like kindling for the fires, The never ending carrion fires,
Whose hellish glow casts twisted shadows That looms from the darkest corners of his mind.
A dim outline of that young man, A figure in the fog
Amidst the choking carrion stench The one who was so alien, so horrifying Even through the haze of long years
He remembers the


BeyondI yearn beyond those gentle eyesBeyond
to what lies amongst the fundamental forces and byzantine machinery of life. Where in that labyrinth of silent synapses did it
originate?
Which microscopic moment first left it's
mark? It that subsumes my ego yet strengthens my soul.


The Paradox of the SoulThe soul, a collection of divinely imperfect emotions, Rolled into one frail organic vessel, A being of unfathomable complexity, That longs for an unattainable simplicity,The Paradox of the Soul
True pleasure impossible without the touch of pain True pain impossible without the touch of pleasure What is truth but a collection of misinterpretations and lies? And are lies not merely a deviation of fundamental truths?
It is at our most base and vulgar levels we yearn for complexity, And in our highest most intricate states of thought that we long for the clear light of simple understanding


the letter IIthere's an uncomfortable silence inside a murderer's head when she finds out the ones she killed were not supposed to be dead... --- and maybe it's because i opened the letter after the blood was shed for the betterthe letter II
i read the words stained on the page and it began like this: "to my dear sage,"
"i'll love you forever- and i'll love you for always. you are the light in my dark cloudy days."
"the garden, m


-+- Consent -+-Tears come out with every breath Unable to speak or shout I couldn't work it out I lay still on the bed Thinking thoughts in my head It was easier to cope When we didn't speak at all, Is it wrong if I let it happen? I doubt that. Strong denial because I couldn't always say No Where did all my strength go? Tonight, the floor is where I'll sleep I curl up and weep About the things I have lost For only my innocence it has cost, My heart is breaking Even though I didn't love the one I had He just took something from me He made me sick  -+- Consent -+-


x- Without A Forest -xWithout a forest The tree stands solitary upon it's trunk It's branches climbing towards the skyx- Without A Forest -x
It's leaves turning silver in the moon,
Without a wood The thick stem standing by my window Given company by the owls of the night And young flowers that bloom.
Without a sibling That would mirror it's surface
Without the scent of another likely tree, Standing in solitude
Without stirred fears Like our hands letting each other free.
Without my gaurdian Making sounds to divert my nightmares Standing tall, eastern pop
--
Never judge a man till you have walked a mile in his shoes, 'cuz by then, he's a mile away, you've got his shoes, and you can say whatever the hell you want to.
--
'Shoot, shoot again, shoot once more, misfire and throw my model at the wall.' Only the best of us, only the best.
-Ishy
--
"Ten years before, she would have been considered pretty; now, with lines around her mouth and the stain of persistent dissapointment in her eyes, she was almost beautiful."
from "The Dumb House" - John Burnside
In my comment on your latest poem, I said I'd send you some links to some of my rather more verbose pieces
[link]
[link]
Tim
xxx
--
Never judge a man till you have walked a mile in his shoes, 'cuz by then, he's a mile away, you've got his shoes, and you can say whatever the hell you want to.
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