The silence of your voice is like birdsong
As if the world awakens and breathes In the vacuum of consequences That my choice has brought me Some may call this road easy All roads are easy when viewed from afar Nor is the end of the road knowable Before anyone appraised my choices I was the one who lived and dealt with my path And the ghosts who surfed my wake For every voice that may invade my airspace I've a choir of disembodied and obdurate voices Harmonizing, creating a choir of doubt A cacophony of anxiety in the chamber of my mind So one less instrument, one less trebuchet One less rotting carcass hurled over my battlement You may either take my hand and help me Or dissipate into the miasma of noise That I am nearly unable to manage The silence of your voice is like birdsong Hours still I've found the pill but my throat's dry Turn the corner clouds are smoldered now watch me hide The coffee's grey as I know the way that I'm supposed to be To be awake is another take of what's forgotten me He lights the way it's sad to say I'm not that way But without the lie I know that I'll get by some day We all know we saw the roads they had holes inside Though without a voice the choices died Stranded moving past it and not looking back Tried to fight it I'm behind it I know I won't be that Wish I had the trick knew the pitch to make it right But disowning it is showing me just how I might For once I hope I see the show without the cast Forgetting this and letting it all ride on black The coffee's grey like the way I know I'm supposed to be I'm wide awake and found the taste of what's stopping me Throughout the night and through the light it doesn't change No matter how I might or might not turn the page The time it craved the silence caved without my name Forgetting who it threatened or who it's supposed to save The memory's a place for me too bad for me To forge it on my own of course stop questioning Words aloud it burns they found yet another time When somebody asks it's nobody's right but mine And I won't know the name though I see the face I'm finding the way reminding me of this waste The coffee's grey just like the way I was meant to see I'm in the wake of what it takes of what's lost at sea Intentions mean reflections to those who want to see The puddles making muddled mess of memories The rays shining down make the crown of victory Or help the sight cast a light on misery A shooting star in the days just past transiting In the sky I saw him fly off maybe imagining Won't change what's past or cast a light on what's to be Another thing just toss the ring into the sea The coffee's grey just like the fading memories I'm past the wake outside the breaking waves of grief through the darkness and into the light
rays pierce the sky as the car does the wind thinking about the day before thinking about the next six months planning and second-guessing evaluating or discarding coffee surges through the veins and neurons erupt wishing to hold hands with the sparking sky ending the song before it's over because it's time to listen to the next tune a refrain is just another word for the same thing over again pockets of what will happen
puddles of what has happened and bubbles of what is happening multiplied times infinity divided by eternity fractals of your existence facets of your crystal undulating dimensions oceans within droplets every hair is counted stretching out into aether
grasping nothing inviting terrors and seizures the clumsy kundalini newly hatched neophyte tongue lashing tasting the wake of the abyss attracting fears and shadows a pulsing beacon reptile emerging from reptile a cast of sine waves beams of particles the same and different 1 becomes 2 becomes 4 becomes 8 becomes 1 again periscope piercing time divining the darkness the shadows envelope and confuse swallowed dragged out of the shell into the darkness metaphysical nonexistence the pierced egg crumples the husk flattens Third becomes Fourth becomes Second inside the hyper and quantum lost within refractions from the 90 to the 45 to the 30 to the 15 then to the zero position an anagram of existence my god, it's full of nothing A simple network of electrical signals
Arranged in complicated form An edifice of emotional textures Beholding/Contemplating/Withholding Droplets carrying minute rocks Stacked upside-down over eons A careless touch and they are ruined Dripping/Building/Melting Sounds made from electricity Intertwined and struggling A complex and intangible merging Speaking/Shouting/Whispering The churning of liquid solids Boiling below the feet of Man The terrible crucible of Creation Bubbling/Boiling/Smoking Particles explode outward Pulled together by gravity and chance And everything begins anew Birthing/Forming/Dying You can't see the other side to tell
If all your walls are built too well It's unfortunate he had to leave but He wasn't feeling all too well The right moment is never the best time So that Rolex won't serve anyone too well I won't say that I was surprised Because I think I know you both too well When it comes to taking action I think you'll see the writing much too well She types the words and clicks the mouse But didn't think it through too well I want to say for certain but I just can't find the words too well The matter that makes us is impermanent
Everything is equally finite The dust that stirs under footsteps Will one day become the feet that walk Only to cease wandering and lie still Even memories disperse like atoms from the fire And in like fashion they are shared elsewhere Until the centuries cause them to forget Where and when they were first assembled Nothing withstands the breaking of time Except the dark, empty vacuum The celestial pool where we all return Either to the cauldron of celestial fission The gravitational doom of the black hole Or endless floating throughout the void Eventually, all will return to the all That singular moment in time Where a crescendo of recognition and revelry Will shower the emptiness with the light of our joy Dust becomes bones It’s feelings
Intangible electrons Reach out with quantum fingers Unknowable intentions They’re silenced |
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May 2016
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