He came to me a siren
Singing songs from the sea,
Harmonizing my name with longing
And breathing melody:
A memory in blue,
Shades of purple deep.
Singing songs of impassioned mourning,
He stole all sense from me.
And so I gave my body to the rocks
Begging for his touch,
But he evaded my ever grasping hands
And left me in my blood.
And so I lay amongst the birds
As they clawed and pecked my eyes,
Soaking in his songs
Until that moment in which I died.
There is no language after him,
Only long pauses and sharp intakes:
Even silence cannot sound
For he is all words and none
- done and undone -
And I can only pay him lip service.
He washes the dawn with powdered hues and pastel blushes,
brushes of periwinkle, peony and soft emerald green.
He paints lightly with all textures and colours,
converting asphalt to palatable, soft, pale citrines.
Ocular blue vision, he tastes of lavender and mint,
like a daydream lightly seasoned with a touch of Spring.
Pervading my senses with a rose clouded tint,
he gently affects everything.
But my love is lost in his sweet mellow hues,
my affections drowned by firm, floral tides,
and so all longing I therefore must subdue:
I must turn away and avert my eyes.
But in shielding myself from the warmth of his rays,
I must scold an
the trouble is you haven't
sat down and really cowered
before that holiest of words
you haven't really listened
and i'm sure you haven't heard
there's a balance in the seasons
in the rhythms of this world
in the ripples and vibrations
but you wouldn't really notice
how subtle is the curve
there is a darkness coming
that will surely be unfurled
it starts within the heart
there will be no taking cover
like the spalted beech
who's heart is full of rot
what is right before you
you carelessly forgot
and in this present darkness
your thought is surely caught
be careful of your words
or haven't you ever heard
that in this losing light
there is a h
She speaks in purple tides and raucous tongues,
Spitting venom in jealous hues of algae green:
At odds with a world that has disenchanted Her,
This savage sidhe rules the sea.
Waves of eternal youth ravage the shore,
And Her voice is met with thunderous applause,
But these rough, grey tides bear great forlorn,
And seek to reclaim the love She lost.
Niamh swells first in anguish, then in fury,
Crashing down upon submersed lands,
And although mesmerising, Her destructive beauty
Emphasises the mortal, fragility of man.
I watch Her fixated in terrified awe,
Struck by the sheer sublimity of the sea,
Before I plunge into the depths and into d
‘Nothing will come of nothing’.
But surely that nothing must something be?
No, away with thine untender tongue,
Come back and please revise your speech!
But I cannot heave my heart into my mouth,
Nor command my tongue untruths to speak
When I do not hide behind pretence.
Honesty has been my only breech.
Can you for certain make no use of nothing,
When language cannot account for all?
For it cannot contain the human passion,
Nor claim access to the noumenal God.
What then can we learn from silence?
The void will always speak for itself.
But when language absconds the nameless,
Then we must read what is not said.
Mother
she said,
Let me show you how I survived you
take me to the stars again.
Do you remember plucking me
pearl-bright in your palms, my girl, my matryoshka doll
From the sky, swaddling me in the night
my baby, I'll mould you to my design
But did you dare forget
I'm sorry if you never wanted to ford rivers, ride dragons, pick wild strawberries
How difficult, how restless even smothered children can be
and whisper to your candle, I don't know which of us is the light anymore but I'm homesick
So mother,
I said,
Let me loose. Gouge me from your belly and hold me up to the wind
I'll find my own way up, either way.
Personal Journal of Head Researcher J. Peters, PhD. – ACN (authority/clearance number) 2540
Overview:
Expose 4 participants to hallucinogens in an attempt to “relax” their minds into a state of higher understanding.
Goal:
Revise the Golf-Ferm trans-dimensional path equation. The occasional disappearance of ships between Rings has prompted desire for “a more airtight (sic) set of numbers for our pilots.”
Day One. Well, we got the go-ahead to start the project. I’m a little bit surprised, to be honest; the Chairwoman must have REALLY wanted ship loss mitigated, because even to myself, the idea of drugging a
I had a friend
with eyes brighter than the mercury in his hands
when he said,
I am
an environmentalist;
and I’ll admit, I thought he was just
I am not
tired
like you
who only claim
that halogen bulbs can’t grow, but
I’ll take this chip, this spoon, this biro I took from Art
and I’ll split the sky.
and the thing is, he did
take his pen,
and I watched him set the clouds ablaze
And the world said
oh
Eliot’s broken images these are not,
Elitist structures are neither wrought
By mine pen which lately toils
Through earthly emotions than erudite forms.