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i drop the bucket

down to the bleak empty

of my world-ravaged soul

and find only bitter...

only dark

i must find my spine

among the bones of

others

i do not remember

their names

and some i cannot

even recal their face

it was...

the land,

it was dust

i let my skin dry

in it

i let my eyes

turn powdery and wander

judas called my name

we played double

solitaire

blue eyes

constant acceptance

and

the sincere

sin-sation

of flying

i hold on

you let go

and the

and

is forever

i drink

you go

and the why's

just keep coming

i hold on

as you set

all love free

i light a cigarette

against the coming of the storm

the coming of

the white

i take a picture

a small purple bag

a dream of ocean

and

the material of a soul

lost long ago

in a fire

i rise

i aim

i take my shot

the wood on wood, scrape-

the-floor sound...

i prefer round rolling

glass bubble noises

like rain drops

and boiling rice

wrap velvet fog rain

around my heart

bring the heated shadow

make me warm and dark

like no home, no religion can



promise full-moon passion

and fire in my soul

for you

every cell spontaneous flame

and succor as I burn

COMMENTS

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Lordpeace
02:59 May 13 2009

i like this one

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paxnor
03:11 May 13 2009

thank you, its clumsy but functional

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Angelus
01:23 May 16 2009

clumsy but functional?

sir, you denigrate your abilities.

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nightangelgale
16:29 May 17 2009

MA'AM!



you are most talented in your indever to breach the inner halls of artistic writing. very well penned.

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always

and always

always and

always with that same...that-ness!

that look,

i scrunch my face in

frustration

when you turn your back,

i say...you say... and,

always,

always with that same look.

COMMENTS

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Sinora
17:34 May 08 2009

Nice.

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paxnor
18:40 May 08 2009

i don't know if anyone goes back to read, but thank you! this limited message thing is a nerve-dancer, anyway to get around it?

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Lordpeace
23:48 May 08 2009

you have to level up or buy a premium membership

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paxnor
16:23 May 10 2009

thanks, daddy-o...i guess i was hoping for a quick-fix, mum always said i had no sense of deferred gratification :)

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Angelus
01:23 May 16 2009

anything but humdrum.

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don't hang up i

want to talk

(to) with

you for a

while

(away the owls) see

i don't get out

much and i

was wondering (stevie-like mind

you) how

you are

doing

COMMENTS

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Lordpeace
22:30 May 07 2009

how cool doesnt matter who its directed at it makes me want to answer to say no i wont and sure i'll chat

just hang out with you a minute

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highway

old gray satin ribbon

laid carefully

on liquid heat

on solid dust.

a straight question mark.

exclamation.



then! old black(widow) facade

distant, lifeless, so long there.

was she ever green? ripe?

blue with hope? was she ever

not old? ever soft? welcoming?

and question mark,

riding an exclamation

goes on



highway,

dusty once black, sun

dried ribbon question,

statement satin

go

COMMENTS

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Lordpeace
22:32 May 07 2009

this is traveling the middle of the country where the roads go on and on and towns become memories as we follow the ribbon ever onward

nice

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