Siren's SongI've walked through forests of weeping willows
And seen the dead line the shallow shore.
What weird wingless harpies have taken their toll on the soul.
The siren's kiss would be bliss, but as a curse is worse.
A dream within a dream is she, and I cannot obtain it.
My ears are filled with beeswax to help tape up my sanity.
I wish not to fall for the Siren's Song like the many before me.
She'll swallow you whole and spit out your empty soul and what's the worst is the fact that you'll love it.
I've seen blackbirds flying overhead, and they make me wish that I were dead so that I could stop fueling her damn fires.
Countless are the men robbed of their pyres as they rot far from home.
Liquid cool are her eyes and liquid cruel are her thighs beckoning me to an odd sense of suicide. I feel her like a phantom limb. I cling onto her memory, and I hate me for it.
The waters, calm and serene, are my greatest fear as I wait and long for the hated marine harlot that stalks me
Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow.
Broken is the golden bowl,
And broken is my hollow soul.
Yesterday's tears tomorrow will weep
As the cold, dying embers into my mind seep.
A beautiful mind is a terrible thing to waste.
A beautiful waste is a terrible thing to mind.
I wish the hollow jesters with their hollow gestures
Would cease miming in the courtyard and contribute to life.
What has life ever done
To be, or not to be;
That is the question-
In my father's house, there are many chambers,
But they are all locked to me.
I'm not allowed in yet,
ANd it bothers me.
I long for the sweet stench of home.
To suck of mother's milk long forgotten.
To taste the atmospheric nipple.
To be one with myself again.
I want myself to be found,
But I don't want to look for myself
Afraid of myself,
Yet I miss me.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
C'est la Vie
Flowing amber waves fixed
In a quicksilver Aurora Borealis.
Focused is my attention on this blasphemous cause.
I cannot recite the laws of man,
Nor would I learn
For all the gold
What secrets would the sun yield
If we but break the norm
And stare at it?
Surely, I am the only one.
I have seen countless wonders in my head.
A myriad of playthings in my mental playground,
Yet I am all alone
And I hate it.
Sometimes, I can escape into my mind.
Sometimes, I can't escae my mind.
This duality within me is driving me to the point
And I know that I'm close,
Because part of me
Is enjoying it.
What a sick qorld we live in.
What a sick mind my soul was damned to.
C'est la Vie.
What does it mean to be a disappointment?
What does it mean to be a dissapointment, and not care about that fact?
What does it mean to be a poet
Who is lost and is never coming back?
I found Virgil in the trees,
And he said unto me,
"Let us go enjoy the layers of Hell."
Well Hell's bells and mortar shells,
It sounded good to me,
So here I am,
The centre of gravity.
Climb down the back of Satan
To climb up the opposite side.
This is my goal, of late.
Ever since I realized that
To one I'd always assumed,
But I've found that I share this title with many.
Sometimes it makes me want to die.
Sometimes it makes me want to live
As a punishment
God damn the 21st century:
He's off to a good start.
I never would've thought that I could be this.
I never thought that I could do this to those
Who matter most
I was mistaken.
My human imperfection shows
My human imperfection.
I recently asked a close friend if he believed in God.
The Death of Bwiti
The death of a gypsy queen.
Celebrate life with the kiss of a knife.
Mama, when can I come home?
The death of Bwiti
I want to see what I've done to you
Through your eyes.
Through those eyes I will despise myself
More than I already do.
I would eat orchid and lotus petals
If they would make me wiser.
I long for Charon the miser,
although there are no people to make me one of the grateful dead.
Coins in my head bring me comfort.
What a strange thought.
A strange brew from a witch slew.
A concoction of ages,
A spoonful of time,
Is all I need to bleed this rhyme.
I would swallow root to see what I've done to you
I haven't the option.
I will remain the man that I think I am,
Regardless of how upsetting that is.
Broken souls in broken bowls
Serve as soup to Cerberus.
How dare I speak such heresy?
Minos will hold me tightly in his tail,
And I will finally feel comforted again
Before he sends me flying into Dis