Tag Archives: eternity

Malinconia

Colours painted your smile

Within meteor showers

Freckles blink out with a laugh

Like constellations summer

Willowy hair touches centuries

You sing in liquid symphonies

Infatuated with southern horizons

Speechless tongue, speculations

Perpetual stars leave no trace

Of lying galaxies among your gaze

Eternity seems like a fickle story

If your heart is in a melancholy clarity.

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A Celebration of an Ending

Just look into my eyes

Baptise me with roses

Under the sinful moon

Veil of gossamer laces

.

This ending was ours to take,
Let the sun wail for our sake…

.

All there is to do is pray

Another wayward stray

The path of spider webs

Stringing stars with ebb

.

This ending was ours to take,
Let them sing elegies for our wake…

.

Sleeping silhouettes shifted and awaken

Bones, teeth and wings eloquent broken

So look into my coalescing eyes, darling

Our demons are the only things bleeding.

.

This is the celebration of an ending, immortalise me…
In a farewell toast to the ending of our lost eternity.

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Ephemera

Like violets stranded in eternity

I lay dying in here for centuries

Like snow and dandelion white

Melting on my paintings tonight

Like the incandescent butterflies

I’ll never crash, and I’ll never lie

Like taste of stars and lemonade

I’ll never be gone, I’ll simply fade

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Aeon +1

glass eyed

with a dulled reverie

waiting for

seconds of eternity

to pass by

and lose their bend

but time, it

just seems to extend.

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Transcendental

If transcend was I, a transience forget

Then might thine apnoea bades regret

If transpired was I, transverses instead

Then might thine eternity be that of lead.

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☆ but ★

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the sky is bound

to fall anyways

maybe i’ll hold it

back someday

but now the drugs

paralyse my body

the fumes i inhaled

make me so tipsy

and they scream in

surprise and scare

whilst chemicals, it

blurred and stared

the police in batons

they knocked down

the basement doors

paint the red towns

and i’m sitting here

with cold dead hands

clutching my heart

wishing to understand

as they plucked the

planets off the ceiling

my lucy’s parvenus

her swan song dying

maybe the sky will

fall, splash eternity

but i’ll swim in the

face of its futility.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

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Filed under Poetry, Southern Constellations

Standby

If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea
I won’t cry, I won’t cry, no, I won’t shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me…

~*~

Why won’t you just stand by me

When my flimsy lullabies falter

Dissolving into stars so sullenly

Speckling the midnight splatter

When the thin air is suffocating

My lungs like a veil of pollution

Breathe, my oxygen effervescing

Heaven’s my only proper solution

The placid moon refines its aura

Into one masterful stained glass

Ready to hear the mournful coda

Of an operatic Valkyrie’s cold lass

Why won’t you simply stand by me

When I’m all apt to be falling apart

Is this but my astrological reveries

Built by a wandering glitched heart

Perhaps I dare now to be neurotic

My tales taller than a red sequoia

In this beach of sands and plastic

You’re the most nebulous paranoia

As sporadic as an elemental spirit

Donning your perverse confluence

And a lopsided smile that’s conduit

For a clandestine mischievousness

Darling, won’t you stand, stand by me

When the galaxy catches my attention

And celestial kingdoms align recklessly

We’ll watch Earth’s theatrical revolution

This quaint planet’s divested, so let it be

Come walk with me for last destination

And I shall carry you home into eternity

Where we can finally sit to rest our notions.

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Monuments of Stone

“The waves of time wash us all clean.”

~*~

Time. Washing its crystalline waves against the quartz sand, lapping at my hesitant curled toes, receding back into the vast inky darkness of the hyperspace sea. Behold the limitless great ocean of time, and the many beasts and creatures that live within its chasmic abyss, hungry for youth, hungry for experiences, always starving and eager to search for a prey, for memories to wither and waste away.

Years, fluttering like a pure white candle in the blustering wind; fragility trembling, luminosity quivering, conflagration dwindling, wanting in faith of its own stability. Its radiating warmth and incandescent brightness giving you a guiding light in soft hues of lambent hope, before a final gust of tempestuous breeze cruelly snuffs it out, leaving only a burnt wick and melted waxen tears of a lost castaway, congealing within the blinding darkness.

Months, thawing like polar ice caps on a desolate mountain, melting sluggishly and painstakingly, falling like liquidated diamonds as they slide down the slippery slope of porphyry, too enticed by the mysterious allure of gravitational forces to stop; drop by drop, shard by shard, tear by tear, little by little, then faster still, until it gets more gargantuan, mass constellating and collapsing downwards into one hollow rumble of a melancholy howl, mourning and bereft.

Weeks, like seven cups of various tea, flavours diverse and varying depending on your mood. Clashing soft seasons in your mouth; minty, citrussy, milky, zesty, sour, bland, diluted, an overall bittersweet affair, oiling rusty old bones and rejuvenating that sanguine blush in one’s cheeks. Yet when the teapot is empty and all the china cups are drained to the very last umber drop, your stomach feels faintly ill, bitter the only aftertaste in your tongue, and you can neither drink nor take no more.

Days, hurtling back and forth expeditiously, whistling past your ears like a frisbee. Thrown with quick reflexes, launched in a directionless manner, tossed around carelessly with none so much an earnest thought but an insouciant laugh, thinking its all in jubilant fun, as it spins and spins, making you feel dizzy, giving your mind vertigo, as you watch and wait patiently for its ineluctable return, just so you can throw it away again.

Hours, jumping and bounding past like frenetic mercurial creatures, never in a singular place, always everywhere, dancing the stars away as though nothing else matters. One moment they might be flitting by your tiring bruised ankles in a taunting tarantella, in a callous attempt to make you trip, yet they might be spiralling into the open Stavanger horizon, in a woeful waltz of dissolving resignation, the next.

Minutes, in a clever coveted Janus-faced deceit, tricking and ticking, masticating and muttering, revolving and relocating, elongating and elevating, faltering and fading, they’re but ruled ramshackle beings trying to stretch those measly seconds into a nuanced artifice of further longevity, eddying such curious naïvetés as you or I to believe that we have all the time in the world.

And the seconds, by god, those measly scintilla of a moment, a speck of a fairy tale caught in a jiffy, those shortest pauses that feel like a lifetime’s worth of disconnected reminisces, as breaths hitch, pulses halt, hairs raise, and the planet ceases it continuous revolution, taut gravity loosening for the briefest moments, allowing souls to soar. A blink of an eye always costs a bereavement of grand eloquences.

Milliseconds. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Years. Decades. Centuries. Aeons. Eternity. Everyone’s wasting time counting time, trying to stop the flow of the inevitable by catching it in an aquarium, and when the pressure is too much, the thin sheet of fragile glass succumbs to the pressing force, and begins to crack and shatter, water pouring out in raging torrents, desperate to escape. We douse ourselves in pneumonic coldness, trying to grasp what’s already slipping from our fingers, trying to save what’s already long gone. But in the end, we get another glass jar and try again and again, much like the innocent hopeful fools we perceive ourselves to be.

A hundred years is what it will take for my living monument to erode away and crumble into clouds of dust and ashes, precipitating pieces of my soul to the weeping planet, yet it will invariably take less than the smallest measure of time to do so, if I stand out into the open salty air and allow myself to be devoured whole by the mistress of the universe.

The waves of time recede in a tranquil stillness, then emerge once again, crashing in a quiet tantrum. The water rises. The tide grows higher. It is up to me whether to bravely swim against the current, or simply drown away in the undertow.

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Hymn For Annabelle

This night, walk the dead in a solitary style
And crash the cemetery gates
In the dress your husband hates
Way down, mark the grave
Where the search lights find us
Drinking by the mausoleum door
And they found you on the bathroom floor…

~*~

Can you hear that loud sound intruding your softest elegy, Annabelle?

Melody against harsh thunderous clanging of the old church bells?

Sonorous sound resonating, disconsolate and mournful to the bone

As they carry your pastel withered body away in your chiseled pink coffin stone

.

You knelt down to me now, crying in a shadowy church confessional

Annabelle, love, what sins and vices have you often lusted for now?

Whisper all of them to me clearly, for your divine transcendental

Heaven, hell, purgatory, which will your tainted soul venture to allow?

.

Annabelle, I have always thought you were the purest of white

Annie dear, synonymous to a blooming water lily, delicate and bright

But somehow that efflorescent plant has now wilted and drowned

Filling its decaying brown lungs with the cold water that surrounds

.

Annabelle, giggling excitedly with your group of friends at the bayside pier

Cotton candy by your lips, your celestial dress hiding your dessicated heart

Pleasant demeanour fading as you stood waiting, your fluttering ebony hair

Staring down into the murky waters, how badly did you wish to jump?

.

Annabelle, would you like to relay your last prayers in your wake, vis-à-vis?

Hands clasped together, in a pew, staring at your own funeral service

Fallen rose wreaths and fake red tears, can you handle the melancholy?

Sordid priests and frowning nuns, as I mumble my heartless bland eulogy

.

Carafes of bloody wines toasted, canticles in a morbidly-joyous anthem

Ostentatious display of sorrow, grotesque streamers on a mausoleum

You were a simple girl, Annabelle, but they wanted your lifeline celebrated

But confetti and balloons and the static noise is what you always have hated

.

Annabelle, there’s a budding flower flourishing inside your twisted womb

But you don’t wish for it to blossom so you chose the sanctity of the tomb

They would shame you, they’d disgrace you, throw you down the pit of deceit

You thought it better to have a fabulous death than a life of wretched defeat

.

A parade of endless black and grey, silk dripping and umbrellas raised up plain

As the dislimned anguished skies pulled a fresh sheath of sobbing rain

A grave dug fresh, a grey cracked tombstone, a short epitaph inscribed

“To the beautiful girl who still radiates hope and inspires even as she died”

.

A wandering soul with a grave mistake, my perfect, sweetest, bleeding Annabelle

Society has wept and grieved this day, for such a innocent lovely girl has fell

Annabelle, your teasing scarlet lips are forever stained in a permanent smile

Won’t you tell me one last secret to keep, or will you hide them all for eternity’s while?

~*~

I miss you, I miss you so far
And the collision of your kiss
That made it so hard

Way down, way down…

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Effigy, Eternity, Eulogy

Hope you got your things together
Hope you are quite prepared to die
Looks like we’re in for nasty weather
One eye is taken for an eye…

~*~

Upon the empty sky, the bad moon has languidly risen

As the endless crying of scarlet raindrops fall and enliven

Buried in a wooden chest, those cold withered lies

Set for the tenebrific night of the ultimate sacrifice

.

Lonely grey tombstone in the dead shriveled garden

And the blackest funeral flowers by its feet further sadden

Massive pentagram crudely drawn in brightest of red

For the allure of the darkness, the man wished to wed

.

He turned upon and left his faltering humanity behind

For the tiniest sliver of false chances to know the feeling of alive

Tragically though, he had also lost his sound of mind

As into the choking abyss he eagerly plunged and dived

.

Exorio; and she materialises, the sombre spirit of solitude

She stares sadly as she passes through his selfish prime

Stopping his heart, possessing his twitching agitated soul

As the rite of passage slows down the impatient tick of time

.

And he thunders loudly in sheer agony and tortuous pain

As the crack of the lighting signals the oncoming bout of rain

The gloomy spirit has evanesced, taken what’s hers—and more

And excavated the very chasm of his deepest fears and core

.

Upon the clearing sky, the bad moon has quickly disappeared

And crimson drops of fettered ruby are no longer feared

All that’s left is a casualty abandoned in the unnoticed anarchy

Rest in peace; here lies a once-good man now possessed by sanity.

~*~

Don’t go around tonight
Well it’s bound to take your life
There’s a bad moon on the rise…

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Filed under Poetry