Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Cruel Sister

There are hours of existence and times of mutterings. Nothing is a space that fills the majority. Less about numbers. More about matters.

There was a hole, empty entirety. No writing came. Till now when seeking propriety, was summed up as a game.

A sum of unrelated relativity ensued. Back to the global language, Mathematics. The one barely passed. The formula relates to issues. So it's okay to bounce back. Shall I take you to where I wrote on walls and all over paper books? The place is not that welcoming, but full of eager hooks. This is confidential, propriety to the personal and overwhelming in nature. Read as far as you wish.

I can hear wind chimes, can you hear them too?
There is dust everywhere. This place has become so ancient.
Faint humming, what is that tune?
Much work to be done. No time for lament.

The handbook mentioned something about Easter.
A flash of pink and white before a fall to the floor;
is this how the seasons weep?
Oh where are you winter, season to adore.

Girls in frocks and boys with ankle socks,
A chilling reminder of the body come to surface,
Clocks hit the hours of playing in study,
The irony one of magnificent surplus.

Give up the rules, but follow the barriers.
Doth I be there, dancing in houses.

Welcome me home with open arms.
It's somewhere over the rainbow.

Poetry written as evening lights wither,
The faint chime of wind heard;
Are we to stand and deliver?

Was it remembered by the river, the memories of us. The sound of laughter held in the waterfall thud. Pity to try so hard. Plausible for the break after the get togethers. Passion, gone. Impossible to break tradition.

As blue skies are fading the ink will turn black,
Simpatico hits Carr's words,
A subtle knack to a plan of attack?

Inní mér syngur vitleysyngur, that is what was sung. And so the rhythm of life was strangled again. Twisted by a rope and strung up by the whisper. Manic is loud. Deadly is quiet.

Once heard what was read,
Twice lost what was said,
And na'more be lead.

O dear one, blue skies are fading.
Bells in the night?

Fuck it, it is all one big bowl of purge.
She's one meanie relative.
Metaphorical and yet so, so real.

Do knives seem crazy now?

So you can take a step back.
Hit 'x''x''x' and go.
I appreciate you being here,
I thought I'd let you know.

There are no knights in shining armour and I'd prefer not to be rescued.


  1. Hey sweetie, I nominated you for a versatile blogger award!

    I wish I could write like you!

    all my love ♥

  2. Fuck knights in shining armour. They make nice targets for the dragon. I'd prefer a brooding ninja in black silk.

    Your pretty comment will give me so many beautiful worlds to explore on my slow way to sleep. This shit comes and goes, hasn't been this bad for two years.

    I want to buy wind chimes. I miss them.

    Thank you for bringing beauty to my day <3


Thank you for your words.