My Sister

Everything once you thought you knew, forget
Let this water shine, well to intertwine
And held ahead against a vast entryway, advancing like the waves
A promise to print and recollect everything I see, and say
Who is sent here this way sailing, hands held high against the waves
Against all this sorrow trailing, hard pressed for fallen names
All these roads left drifting, the friends who've passed away.
Nyx this golden passageway, the oldest night we entertain
And reason? To be sure, unreasonable.  No less demanding than
Complete and total pain.  Harping!  And what distance, apart from me and you
And well I wish to witness every play until it's through.
Three shades form so fairly swift, the curtains captain
One word will lift, convinced defense of nyx, this passageway.

What Has Yet To Be

A pond of conventions,
Which way to flow?
I might prevail within this fence or choose to circumvent.
Impervious test, throw me to the flames.
I'm here, just listening
I'm here, see everything.  No judging
Lest I be judged.  No strings attached
Respect to each and every path.
Seasoned all winter isn't it grand?
The force of the weather drives me deep underground.
Forever doesn't seem that unpleasant or bad
I've a mind to be forward with what good sense I have,
Prefer the boring coronation?
Give me crowning of the sun.
I say, this spark has left me speechless
High and dry like you wouldn't believe.
Tossed up out of that ocean
Onto a dismal little beach.

Impression:
My feet fell well into the sand
My hand held trails folding into the wind.
Sweet breath from the sea
A season of change clashed and rattled
Attachment to these chains.
Sweet mother, love is in your name
To be held lightly and open
Like a moth towards your flames.
A stone to be appraised
Neatly sent sailing,
Well to mention and well away.
Approaching her gaze
Sinking into memories too intricate to tell, explain:
A soft call nurturing
A hillside all in flames
Atop tall walls hurdling
The broken glass of pain.
From the depths of insistence
An avalanche to name
Broke again in earnest,
Following the one.
Forget my paving
Covering roads just a bit too complicated
Watcher at the door.
A moth, a wash, a field of flames.
A mass, a reputation, the moon of refrain
Practically faded from my vision, one name.
The sun sets sailing, burning strong and plain.

Looking In

From the outside looking in.

I'm on the outside of the circle,
In any weather or situation
Where do I go to lead me to patience,
To lead me to clean water.

In practice and while active
A parchment of the senses.
White, blank and deepening tank
This form to hold a picture.  Fantastic.

Emphatic with a finger, silent secret listener.

The Best of Both Worlds

You know I could
I would drop everything for you,
Persistence.

Two sides to the coin
The best of both worlds
Sliding, rattle to the point.

Break in trumpeter
(Naming Jupiter)
Ramble to the joint.
Shake hindsight, failing
To live up to expectations,
Intrepid maneuvering
Point to ivory point.

Is this the last semblance of tacit resistance?
Creating distance
Making waves.

Two sides to the girl, grave.
Pearls to safely save or savor
In time this falls away.

Missed by just an instant
Reserved and trailing grey.
Menos this resistance
Apropos to fade.

But besides this,
I'd tell hell to spill my witness
Black coal held well in vein.
An Eye on both his foreheads
A day within a dream.
Well say, an opportunity to exist
In which
None remain.

Havannah's gold is here
In tears of a mirror's incentive,
Incessant question
Riddle to explain.

Have the days spun
All their spindles?
Will we ever meet again?

Safely let your hair down
All the shades of midnight
Shining entwined.

Original Plate or Dish

What is important in despair?
What is worthy if all falls
Down into that ditch?

Unholy bitch, hedged out, hemmed in hegemony.
Undone this worldly pit of
Dissatisfaction, putrid, putrefaction of sin.

I'm dipped in it, this serpent
Is my only friend.  But the stench
Is something prefunct, preternatural style of men.

I gaze into my black heart, precinct of the grim
Unholy black art, carnal den so dim.
I cannot fill this cistern, my cup

Just wants to rust, beholden.
But in the eye of the one who held me,
Held me up in whim, un-hostile holster

To foster once again, no harbor
For the dark born boulder, the warrior
Within this chapel blossoms into rooms, all intricate.

Each one filled with his rose essence, prescient
And plain.  What's with this Eucharist?

Allegorical prayers,
Oligarchical patronage,
Original Dish or Plate.