What builds and breaks
what fears do shake
and in the hollow shift
the blanket moans and rote cries
sleeping soundly with our lies
this nightmare begins as I wake
sorrow pouring in
finger tremble length from the trigger
depression strides and struts it’s stuff on stage
growing larger in the silence of spilling tears
banked memories rekindle flames
dark journeys play out
crippling self doubt
need to touch, to feel, to know
but only the pain crashes down
smothering hope’s reaching hand
Author: Pelgris
Sheet music
I will dream of you
when sleep pulls me under
and with every inhaled breathe
the thought of you pulls me forward into the unknown future
if I must
I will be as a dream stealing moments with you when your mind slumbers
as our hearts are drawn to each other
and live lives in that world we create for each other
but this dream
these words can not long contain us
we will burst forth.
You are the ember in my heart.
My home. My refuge.
If we be but dream, dreams fade.
But
NO
we are as souls bound together
as rhythm and melody in a song the world itself sings
You are my song.
My Cha’trez.
And I will sing you forever.
I’m still broken, just in different ways
Is it bad that I don’t expect those that I love to love me back? That the mere thought, “who could love the monster I am” can bring me to tears instantly? Because of all the beautiful things I believe, it is this one dark seed that sits in my heart. This is the last piece of heartache I work on. I say this now because it scares me to say it. How can this part of me, this broken self be revealed and still be worth loving. He writes through the tears. But it’s a rule. If I betray my own rules, how can I be trusted to not do so again.
Just hopes
I want to sing you songs.
I want to read you stories.
I want to write poetry in tracery across your skin.
I want to slow dance with you to the sounds of a thunderstorm.
Lost velvet kiss
Wood moans wind,
brittle amber of falls remembering,
dances then swept silent,
bright moon slips past slumber
past the hungering earth
soft crunch burns the shouting quiet
till round tension drop
and wind sorrow sings
How do rules affect your mindset?
I had some things to say on this and emdimensional is a fun and interesting blogger
Syllogistic decline
Should heart be cast down
to erupt unaided by time or awareness
bound purpose in the snow
failing inward to oblivion
and splintered remnants of knowing smiles
found distressed in the slippery madness
gone hallow
desperate to desire
in turnabout and gyre
taste of lips and I am home
the maelstrom’s son forgotten
pressure builds of slipping shudder step
and giving all
have wrought
The pale memories of waning years bundle
spear out
the piercing shriek of pulsar
what was once the history of the world
becomes the collapsing waveform
the energistic creation of itself
modified by the shifting passage of existence
Survey results
So with 2 votes it looks like the people have spoken and I will finish Pel and Sara. However I will also be doing the next “book” of Split Sky called Torn Asunder. So on Monday, Wednesday, Friday will be Torn Asunder and on Sunday will be the installment of Pel and Sara. If you want more Pel and Sara you can read the Prequel: Ballroom or purchase Home:A Pel and Sara Story on Amazon.
Too many zooz
The first notes I heard, that hard blat then pause, then blat, percussion, then escalation into the meat of the music but those few sparse sounds at the beginning stay and echo through your blood. They get into your bones and make you move. The structure is there, reminiscent of samba or cumbia, but elevated with an energy that says listen we’re saying something important. It moves like a living sound inhabiting your headspace. A living breathing organism. If I compared it to modern music, I’d say early Fishbone but with a better more visceral sound. It’s layered and complicated with enough simplicity to tie it together. It doesn’t dumb itself down and it appeals to millions. The performance is great, riveting. The music itself sounds like the very best of Coltrane. If they can maintain that raw authenticity they will be remembered forever.
Wine or whiskey
If hope were wine then I’d be drunk half the time, but despair is just as kind as wine but with whiskey instead.
Caught betwixt hope and despair, in desire, only for you.
I drink deeply of water and watch my twin demons of hope and despair stagger about. But time is passing without touch or word, and while my mind sits above the fray and understands the why, my heart sits near, in ache and missing you. My heart it yearns, it needs, it desires. Always moving closer to you. My head wants the same but knows why that is not happening, yet.
