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my pocket death

  • 18-07-2004 11:31pm
    #1
    munkeehaven
    Closed Accounts Posts: 1,012 ✭✭✭


    i wrote this one day after i began to realise how *short * life really is...


    when is one not the other?
    when lives are lived as in a dream..
    when dreams carry us further into ourselves, and we spit at our insignificance.

    if life is joy..it is a fleeting thing.
    oh, if i were the sea and sky,
    i would gaze at my cloudy passions , in my own blue reflection,
    and wait for my heart..a yoke of red firelight, to sink on the horizon...
    the moon is my faithful companion..caring for me in its stillness,

    like a dead lamp.

    my waves, torment as they break the shore.
    hurt is when you lose your vanity,

    and vanity is the evilest of things,
    because it gives us pleasure, as we cry our wax tears..noone can see...
    blow back the stars to reveal the planets..indeed they are but one..

    why must i stay and fear the walls that comfort you?
    be gone to the murky seas.

    two lovers in love with the sky..it seeps green,orange,pink and red..
    but not the colour of one..all in all they still look upwards.and pretend..

    pretend they are not alarmed-this is the way of the world..as it should be.

    pink sun,dying in the sea,where each of us were conceived..is this..all we can be?

    should i look to the petals of a scented rose?..it weeps..
    it is forgotten amidst the suffering.

    among the poppies i call to the four corners..the four corners where my spirit sighs..

    pleasant dancing waves..you fill me with giggles and tiredness..keep dancing to the moon..even though it dies today,entering the stars and andromeda.

    a bulbous pouch in a travellers loose pocket.


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