Ibringyouasong

When I was quite young, I found myself so very far flung; Blasting rocket ship in space – Color-filled and yet no happy place ‒ And though it made a comfy bed, It was quite uncomfortable for my head; Flying on and soaring by – No, not like that Super-guy, ‒ I widened my gaze and came to with a start To realize I had no manual for each part; Past raining comets and stars, Blurring together like traffic-lined cars; There was no slowing down to breathe And on the gas lever I did teethe; Skating on a mirror surface of a giant icy ring, I cried out knowing I did not control this thing; And on towards eterna

Sunlight buries itself behind winter’s breeze And so the crow flies and carries the burden, The beauty of the broken heart, Tied to its feet with red velvet ribbon And with a hacking call, Cries to the world as it leaves; Past the mourners who moan and break Like branches covered in ice, Circling low over the musicians and parade’s people. Leaden clouds swarm the massive dome And guide the crumbling shards – So like sprinkles of ash over the city – To scatter the bleeding parts of dust amongst the soil, Where the seeds will germinate with dreams And leave the trees to absorb the slivers of a young soul; Spring craw

With heavy heart in hand, I feed it to the fire; This desolate spit of earth, where men meet in violence and souls clash upon shores of thought; Here I bring bells of white of lingering heavenly scent; Clouds skim the top of mountains like hands passing over graves; Kings bury princes for kingdoms and the winds come to steal the only laments kinsmen can offer; I have walked with bare feet over the backs of rocks to come here, to place tokens of prayer on all patches of unmarked ground, and though the gift I bear is by no means divine or sparse, these white bells ring with my voice for each prince who won't be crowned; Medieval poisionous blac

Katie Greaves Sits and watches as the train leaves; In and out, in and out, Dark tunnel to no-light at the end. Katie Greaves Sits on a bus going nowhere, Rain pouring and mist curling, Takes out her notebook and breathes. Katie Greaves Sits in a car as the engine heaves, Gazes at the world going by, And makes guesses at life. Katie Greaves Sits in the airport and looks at white; Blue, blue, blue - deeper than space, Makes a circle around his face and believes. Katie Greaves Sits on a boat that rocks as it weaves There’s the sunset - all gold, And down by the head she goes. She has fingers that itch like spiders To walk along the

Romeo + Juliet Shakespeare had it wrong; Love does not swell in red and silver, But blooms with blacks and blues; Or, if it should bleed rouge and mist, Let it be from the tip of a pen. Ah, the pen; Yes, a pen, The vampire of ink, How lovely the writing seems; And within a sonnet, proclaim it well, But love; true love, love, Love is not that way; Can be written and read and versed As well as one should please; If one should please it though, Let the truth be known; Love is like grasping fingers on a throat, Like a choking grip on the wrist, And there the colorful stains remain - where all the world can see, And they are p

Let me sing my song for you Words that glow like golden meteors Falling and scattering around your fingertips Let me sing my song for you Heavenly notes that rush together like a clear, unfurling river Twisting around your throat, chest, and stomach Let me sing my song for you Whispering melodies of the sweetest winds Touching your ear and tousling your hair Let me sing my song for you Dreamy composition that sighs into color Painting your red mouth in sweet, chaste kiss Let me sing my song for you Choir sung that brings forth the roses and vines Tracing the bones of your wrists, the flesh of your palms Let me sing my song for

Wind of the crashing waves, Darkness of the rock that was beat upon; A swirling mass of blue and ivory. The moon is round and free, shining romantically with an air of mystery. A beacon of light from the silent tower, revolving as the sun, heralding, heralding the message to come home. The lullaby plays and catches the breath of the beating heart. This is my tomb, my grave. This place of sanctuary where I sit. The bitterness of Calypso, the mightiness of Poseidon. Oh shadow of the veil, as it descends over the pale face. And softly, softly, it departs.