fragile notions
*
We numb ourselves to the past
Comfortably so.
We sit familiar with shallow memories
Infected by the illusion of a double fantasy,
(Garden promises and flowers for your head.)
II
Life with the lions…
Them sly hungry cats
Opportunists for the vulnerable,
said lonely man on the hill.
Their sadistic teeth clamped down
Muscles tight—
Amused as your
Flesh was torn-- skinned
Rapped your dignity
Your only defense; your heart.
That tender rhythmic organ that kissed--
Sorrow to bliss.
III
You were true blue
I was sweet orange,
beneath the rainbow of our love.
The songs then were ballads
Of our genesis
In lands of gentle giants
Enveloping vulnerability
In green pastures…True.
Our dreams took loft
With the helium of surrender
Dances spun too high from earths sphere,
Too splendorous for gravities hold on us.
IV
You were true blue
I was sweet orange
We did not know
Blue becomes so easily velvety black
And orange too often turns sour.
V
By the river of sans souci
The other side of
Hells gate
I’ll meet you there.
Shadowed no longer
By dark forces
Or life with the lions.
nor silly silly notions
of more then is.
©slp
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
hello
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsezr0qiFIc
*
on return to the home front
sitting in the blue diner,
turned into a pseudo diner
claiming queens comfort,
i am revisited by the past.
flashback 1979--or was it 1980
not too sure-
it was the end of an era--
when bright colours
were transformed into black.
you said it was to mourn
the loss of our youth---
hells kitchen
mudd club
and so much more
which sunk our A- framed dreams
of home...
upstate --palatial fields...
into night mares
running rampant
*
flash forward
promises denied--
imagine---
they were realized...
instead of our heroes
towards violent ends met--
we turned corners
from the blue diner
hoping for the best--
*
strangers feigning friendship
chat small talk --i pretend to listen.
upon departure shares,
'you heard who ----
why weren't you there.'
all I can think was--
it was suppose to have
been me first.
i leave stunned
visited by memories
clustered in the chambers
of my cell.
*
these 25 years --have me
many days wonder...
where --how --you were.
i know
our hearts are treacherous
and desperate--
but we hope
one fares well--
we never assume
hearts fail...
over and over and over again
until they leave you in a coma...
come May, that does not spring one forward
but sinks one deep into silence.
the chasm of dark sleep....
*
entangled alongside your
crimson pillowed head
laid heavy upon its
rest---
are my dreams---
our dreams
our youth--
and hope pining for
paradise restored.
where i will await
upon the hilltop
of astoria park
our homestead---
our bright garb
intact--
*
Of you I pray-
'may his name be written in
the book of life...'
of you I pray...
'may he be remembered...
the he who was before
those silly silly days...
when we were just kids.
*Hello...its me.'
slp
dedicated to jeff nozilo.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsezr0qiFIc
*
on return to the home front
sitting in the blue diner,
turned into a pseudo diner
claiming queens comfort,
i am revisited by the past.
flashback 1979--or was it 1980
not too sure-
it was the end of an era--
when bright colours
were transformed into black.
you said it was to mourn
the loss of our youth---
hells kitchen
mudd club
and so much more
which sunk our A- framed dreams
of home...
upstate --palatial fields...
into night mares
running rampant
*
flash forward
promises denied--
imagine---
they were realized...
instead of our heroes
towards violent ends met--
we turned corners
from the blue diner
hoping for the best--
*
strangers feigning friendship
chat small talk --i pretend to listen.
upon departure shares,
'you heard who ----
why weren't you there.'
all I can think was--
it was suppose to have
been me first.
i leave stunned
visited by memories
clustered in the chambers
of my cell.
*
these 25 years --have me
many days wonder...
where --how --you were.
i know
our hearts are treacherous
and desperate--
but we hope
one fares well--
we never assume
hearts fail...
over and over and over again
until they leave you in a coma...
come May, that does not spring one forward
but sinks one deep into silence.
the chasm of dark sleep....
*
entangled alongside your
crimson pillowed head
laid heavy upon its
rest---
are my dreams---
our dreams
our youth--
and hope pining for
paradise restored.
where i will await
upon the hilltop
of astoria park
our homestead---
our bright garb
intact--
*
Of you I pray-
'may his name be written in
the book of life...'
of you I pray...
'may he be remembered...
the he who was before
those silly silly days...
when we were just kids.
*Hello...its me.'
slp
dedicated to jeff nozilo.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jsezr0qiFIc