I walk between the parallels
intermittent rungs
that link
the times
I travel back and forth
across dimensions
Albert’s, Jacob’s, ladder
I walk the lines
Tag: alternatives
Whose Muse?
She wanders in
when she feels like it,
tarted up, sometimes,
as if every eye in the place awaited her arrival,
flaunts herself
in naked abandon,
flourishing syllabic resonance wherever
wanton desire cherishes her arrival,
poses idly, at times, to capture flash,
smiling, leerily, on red carpet.
Departing with a sneer, she’s
off to sun herself in Grecian myth,
knowing she is
forever wanted
and desired.
A tart to all temptress,
scourging soul desire,
panting wildly when afflicted,
reddened pout
to tease all suitors.
So they say.
So say many.
Some fast while awaiting, and
she’s laughing with margharitas in the sunshine,
leaving clouds fermenting overhead,
idly casting aspersions on your value,
burnishing her limbs with languid poise,
her footstool, your soul,
querulous and querying,
while no great loss to her.
So I say.
A lecher.
No more than any other
of her kind.
Nothing to offer
but illusion.
Still she squirms inside your worth,
dedicates sacrifice to poisoned thoughts.
A tramp, I affirm,
designed and dressed in alter ego,
famishing your soul
until you realise the truth.
Just a bitch,
in the heat of sunny and overcast days,
becalming doubts as her mood takes,
laughing as clouds of despair
part words from mind.
Trust tarnishes her tan,
embittered exchanged coin of nothing.
Shylock,
feasting on flesh that waits
for her arrival
while life demarks
her worth.
No Curse
What can you say now
To that kind of silence?
Not the blissful quiet
That descends
At evening’s end,
Nor the silence that
Pierces through
Soulful songs
And seeks
To burst forth.
Not the loud,
Pervasive silence
That descends
After tumultuous noise,
Nor the restful quiet
That only a ticking clock
Keeps rhythm
And rhyme to.
All these I embrace,
Rejoice in even,
In silence’s ecstasy
What can we say now
To the other silence?
Where words
Unspoken
Scream blame
Or ill-regard,
Castigate
In pointless,
Internal
White noise
The kind that grieves
And causes grief.
How this silence punishes,
Betrays its name
And purpose
What say we to silence then?
Hush, love,
And hold,
Redeem the silence,
Befriend its nature.
It knows no curse
In peace.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/17/the-sound-of-silence/
scottishmomus 