tell yourself "iam," it's true ... longtime anguished pain nowhere thrusting empty lusting quietly busting ... "ranting raving all the way home"

... tell yourself ... tell yourself ...
"the end justifies the means"

to tell another tale, the same
ol' story caked in mud and shit
of princes thieves and fame

iam ill-chosen for thesse roles
can't sing so good
continuence annoyance silence
abuse you, judge and jury
executioner, ill-gotten gain, the thrill

our minds eyes on the morning's silence

can't even breathe ....

i called -
my eyes closed
hands clasped
in my lap
still

sigh the door open
to the light
- 'my issue'
came with me to kneel
We Three One

Then a voice
"Hey...
this ain't no place to sleep!"
I peer out of one eye
at a bus mate's sunny face
and smiled...  

--Last edited by meela on 2006-09-26 09:33:35 --

Ordinary ugly blues, iam no-one, this is silent, this sarcasm-scream onto blueink nowhere with obscure white background, lossleader helpless as we signify a brutal tale in mime and chaos, cuz this is pain and there is no tomorow, only an endless sequence of the next day and the next day and the next day. These are blue words, icecold icehot, still the only color that can stand against the sky. Like solo sighs of children of long-abandoned parents, this is gone, cuz no-one knows the story and never will cuz no-one sings it. Wish i had an instrument.

"If i could sing, i would tell you. I would...."

Words are pretty good. They keep filling up this space, lossless, blue and silent .... try to seek inspiration and hope, solace from grey sky days, the coming winter, the dark, the fear unleashed. Silence. "The Animal Inside." At the door. All our minds corrupted by pornographers, comic books, and semiotics. Howling Wolf, lone wolf .... "hungry."

What does it mean to be you?  

--Last edited by dmg on 2006-10-25 13:52:53 --

I cannot, broken by old images, imagine very far ... yet iam learning to sing. Iam child again, and it's like ...  iam courageous knight and you are beautiful and we find each other in bleak palaces where solacing metaphors dare not arise, in desert pain unfounded on the world's pain, in silent treatments from strange warriors, in cries of the rejects (they are thirsty) and cries of the rocks themselves .... "YEH we live here" .... in barriers withstood and overcome, in the history of us and art and world, all of it. We cry. God speaks. And that is all, it starts over again, over and over and over.

Don't be afraid.  

--Last edited by dmg on 2006-10-25 13:51:53 --

so ...

.... this thing, new day, precision of language, i am unafraid. It's the unavoidable vagueness of saying so, the unbearable ecstacy of your .... choice. But today is THE day, today's blues, and no other.... BUT!!!

but ...

but ...


"but how can you say THAT???" ... unravelling the complex nothing wordorder, underlying this suppposedly something busyness we all think think think THINK!!!! ... we know?

what?  

--Last edited by dmg on 2006-10-25 19:35:52 --

I build with these Bricks

I tried another way today
A horrid thought defeated
- uilding blocks stack up
the quicksand filled full
Foundations under my feet