Tag Archives: Truth

Letters to a God

Seek not the thoughts that would leave us in limbo
Nor the solemn disquiet that pulls us apart
The conscious mind knows not the path to follow
It is the unconscious that leads us to all that we love
All that we trust in this world, far above
It is not down below where we find the weak
Nor the ones that would lead us into way of harm
There is the reason we toil in sorrow
And there is the ruin, the terror, the answers we seek

Fear not the questions you would bring to a god
The power of reason has no earthly rival
Nor does it seek to succumb to one weakness
The weakness of thought in theological spiral

Far and forever in worlds led astray
Do the merry men pause in a battle of words
Debacles and torture for those that are clear
Of conscious, of calling, and all that deludes
Seek not the sullen, or manipulative tongues
That weave and wag as the moon in its hour
Nor taste of the fruit that the bards would deliver
There is harm in the tune, there are minds to pollute

Hope and Despair are cut from the same
From all earthly conclusions delivered to blame
We strive and we seek not solutions we need
Nor do we cut those that harbour and hoist
The mantle of messages, poisonous pain
To strive, to seek, to find not the answer
Nor the blood that we need for removal
A cancer
Conundrums of cause yet we cut not the cloth
That would blind us at every hour and vein

Oh why do the answers not come with a name

Wisdom for fools is what the book bends
And we are but ears to the men that would end
A blind man would seek to find vision at home
Not to fall far from the world he would blame
Nor to find fault in the words of a saint
We are what we are
He is what we ain’t

Deliver us from evil and all of its taint

Talk no more of a world and its cost
There is no saving grace for the ones that have lost
For the ones that cry wolf or eat from the fruits
Of evil men and trees of barren ash
We’ve come full circle and time has now swollen
As a tongue of a child, bit by false truths

Seize not the hour to fight for what is
Nor to find falsehood in all that you see
Strength is decay if you lack constitution
Derivative of death and a long lasting kiss
A touch of remorse in the morning that follows
A dawn of delusions and far removed thought
The conscious mind knows not the path
Nor is it hollow

All that we trusted in this world, and above
It is the unconscious that led us here

Not his love

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Where the Heart Is

If I could take a thousand pills and swallow them with all your ills, with all your dreaming dark deceit, I’d label that a godly feat. A task unknown to all that walk, to all that dream, and all that talk. To all the angry, ancient folk, that suffer still under the yoke. If I could take a thousand steps, away from you and all your tests. I’d find no solace in this world, no shell to shield, no wall to fold. No matter under the divine, to find and face my Valentine, to love your lace and all its kind, in body, soul and sullen mind. If I could find the words to speak, to all the faces that I seek, to all the places I have been, with all the hatred I am in. And all the balance broken down, from the worlds I’d wandered in my town, through all the tears that struck the ground. I’d still fall back in love with you, and then bring forth the golden rule. That love is childish, cruel and vain. A boring, blinding, barren game. A feud of fortune favoured still, by those that find no home, or hill. There is no place, nor time and truth, to love thyself, and still be true. With bated breath and hatred spent, I find the words to pay the rent. To mark the days until I slumber, deep in peril, hearts encumber. Heaven rests on tiny wings, born of brimstone, fellish things. Carrying Life and Death in dreams, to wonderment and eldritch beings. If I could mask my love for you, in darkest night and hellish view. I’d spin a web of laughing chaos, to wax and wain, to whisper true. And all the lies we’ve told ourselves, all the flies we’ve burned in hell, all the wisdom, all the woe, will rain red ribbons down on you.

Empty Inkwell

What writhes in the deep, O sweet beloved
my metronome, and spoken truth
what thoughts cross our paths on a night like this
dementia, and speckled swords of fallen stars
a dark dream follows me, quick to the heart
a hallowed moon, and a haunting memory to pass the time
still words in the dead of night, a still word
four hours until the sun bites the earth i move upon
a dawn of new things
i walk down the street and notice the jars
empty pockets of wealth and remorse
a jar moves into view, then another
in one i find a world unknown, pain
in the other lies the remnants of my youth
red hair appears, running down the brow of the universe
it marks the blood of the ancestor, and the next
the old world and the grateful dead
funny hats and broken bottles
first the house crumbles, then tomorrow
i walk down avenues not meant for my legs
i linger over thoughts of madness
and maddening thought
i walk to the store to buy a few soldiers
death is a luxury, but only when bought