joshua.guay
02-24-2008, 12:59 PM
From the Window in my Mind
(February 21, 2008)
When walking into a room,
Swear upon all that there is,
That you’ll look into her eyes.
For if beyond the door there lays,
Death your bane, your life’s away,
The sight to see,
I’d love to see,
Tis’ but you my love,
I would cry for the sigh that death gifts me.
It is my love for you,
That I remain to see,
And if my knees should buckle,
Although it would give me no trouble,
To kneel myself down to a master unknown,
While your hand it tightens well,
As you are so well known.
You may caress all the hurt,
That has been invested within,
For it is now that I must lay,
Lay me down though not to play,
But to watch you fade, fade so softly away.
Shhhhhhhh…….
Do not say a word my dovingly precious bird,
My princess of the stars,
My darling’s eyes belong to Mars,
To be serenaded by the sounds of Saturn,
Where hen’s drix lay their eggs and play.
At the extent of the orbit,
Upon Pluto I stand, a somewhat lengthily way.
Where I have begun to turn cold,
Where I have learned to grow old.
Rightfully you I long to hold,
Although I wasn’t bold enough to know,
That life is a dinner, best taken slow.
So when the time comes, that my eyes shall rain shut,
I want for you to know, that I have kept your fair face
And this does suffice the view, from the window in my mind. (last line x2)
I call your name, when I’m in pain.
January 28, 2008
Touch my soul darling,
Touch me as the roots of sacred willows,
Cling to the Earth.
Bathe with me,
Amongst the holiest of waters.
Dance upon the waving currents,
Trance me into your body.
The clouds cry for you, to feel as they feel.
They are spirits falling down from within the rain.
They are those who were here before,
Who have felt the pain.
They are those who came before,
Who have loved and turned,
To the road that loners walk.
They are those,
Who stay upon,
The road,
That lovers stalk.
They are the ones, who direct the seagull flocks,
To the warmth that winters frost comes to mock.
Call me darling,
As a newborn child calls for comfort.
Cross me darling,
As culprits of treason cross kingdoms.
Save me Darling,
As the oceans save the waters.
Let the waters be lifted by the sun,
Let the wind carry them to the birds of an age so young.
For they cannot fly, and they are Rapunzels in distress.
Allow the spirits to taste your tongue,
Allow the spirits to have their fun.
Allow these spirits to have their fun.
The Throne of Exeunt
February 17, 2008
Spiders acrobatically descend from turbines,
Coincidingly precise, as the walls cry nicotine.
The white rolls of cashmere, instantaneously part thrice,
To the shades of man-transformed cardboard,
Which is tattooed with glue.
My reflection seems to change,
As a link of weather becomes a name.
A solitude is what you find here,
Don’t worry much I won’t be long here.
For the sounds of times of yester-year,
The same flowers don’t grow, although don’t die here.
Magic made in the arts of rain,
Propelling waters to fall between the scenes,
Of two serene humanly beings.
Come once to make love upon a wet bed,
Now love comes held well above their heads,
To reach and grab, this is for fools.
Let it float high, to overrule,
The acts to act for years to come,
The sun’s come up our night is done.
What is There in the World?
February 18, 2008
What is there, but expression on the world;
Artistic, aggressive, subjective expression on the world.
Belated, invaded, post-dated repression of the world.
Poetic sympathetic, discredited appreciation for the world.
Instructive, chaotic, symbiotic acceptance of the world.
What more could you ask of the world,
Than only for what it is.
What more could you ask of your child,
Then for them to have achieved life, from the womb.
Why ask of them tormentations and perversions from life
Why create what will come to be known as strife.
Accept the beauty of harmony,
As we all grow together,
As flesh and soul mend together,
And loves of improper creation are severed forever.
Without an End there is no Achievement.
February 17, 2008
It must be the hardest feeling of sadness,
With which the Lord does feel the world,
When it comes to lengths and times such as these.
For his creations which he has created,
Must eventually cease to be,
And so how may he present himself,
Upon a ship about to sink,
And so shouldn’t we marvel,
At the wonders of the past.
The people who have moved from places,
And have shaped the social ways,
Forgetting those who came from hell,
Are not necessarily bad, this to you I must tell.
Although it be a bad thing to see,
What is wrong with the advantage of a learning capability.
The painters have painted,
The writers have written.
If you can handle the speech, of yourself all alone,
Then the judgment itself for you shall be sewn,
Though if tension with demons, break through to the world,
From the place in your head,
Then I suggest it is best, for one to remains laid in bed.
To learn to articulate the language that shall soothe your very soul.
Learn to gain enjoyment,
From joyous acts of harmlessness,
Be at peace with your rage,
Be at peace center stage,
And behold the gift to feel,
And behold the gift is real.
Come to terms with what you can.
Come to learn from what you can’t.
Without an end there is no achievement.
Without an end this is just grievance.
The Toll
February 15, 2008
I have never spoken to the granter of life.
My vocal chords have been removed in a dream.
My vocal chords have been lost due to love.
I wonder in fictitious amazement,
More towards diminished persuasion,
That my feelings can feel no more,
Since I have hurt so many, whom I do adore.
Leaving me to enjoy,
But the employment of a circumstance,
Harmful only it is to me,
That you face makes up the worldly globe.
A taste I ask to soothe my soul.
On second thought,
A present state-enough-feel,
Unsurrealistically sure,
That the ferry-man will pardon,
My inability to conjure,
My soul, tis’ a toll,
Tis’ a toll to my soul.
(February 21, 2008)
When walking into a room,
Swear upon all that there is,
That you’ll look into her eyes.
For if beyond the door there lays,
Death your bane, your life’s away,
The sight to see,
I’d love to see,
Tis’ but you my love,
I would cry for the sigh that death gifts me.
It is my love for you,
That I remain to see,
And if my knees should buckle,
Although it would give me no trouble,
To kneel myself down to a master unknown,
While your hand it tightens well,
As you are so well known.
You may caress all the hurt,
That has been invested within,
For it is now that I must lay,
Lay me down though not to play,
But to watch you fade, fade so softly away.
Shhhhhhhh…….
Do not say a word my dovingly precious bird,
My princess of the stars,
My darling’s eyes belong to Mars,
To be serenaded by the sounds of Saturn,
Where hen’s drix lay their eggs and play.
At the extent of the orbit,
Upon Pluto I stand, a somewhat lengthily way.
Where I have begun to turn cold,
Where I have learned to grow old.
Rightfully you I long to hold,
Although I wasn’t bold enough to know,
That life is a dinner, best taken slow.
So when the time comes, that my eyes shall rain shut,
I want for you to know, that I have kept your fair face
And this does suffice the view, from the window in my mind. (last line x2)
I call your name, when I’m in pain.
January 28, 2008
Touch my soul darling,
Touch me as the roots of sacred willows,
Cling to the Earth.
Bathe with me,
Amongst the holiest of waters.
Dance upon the waving currents,
Trance me into your body.
The clouds cry for you, to feel as they feel.
They are spirits falling down from within the rain.
They are those who were here before,
Who have felt the pain.
They are those who came before,
Who have loved and turned,
To the road that loners walk.
They are those,
Who stay upon,
The road,
That lovers stalk.
They are the ones, who direct the seagull flocks,
To the warmth that winters frost comes to mock.
Call me darling,
As a newborn child calls for comfort.
Cross me darling,
As culprits of treason cross kingdoms.
Save me Darling,
As the oceans save the waters.
Let the waters be lifted by the sun,
Let the wind carry them to the birds of an age so young.
For they cannot fly, and they are Rapunzels in distress.
Allow the spirits to taste your tongue,
Allow the spirits to have their fun.
Allow these spirits to have their fun.
The Throne of Exeunt
February 17, 2008
Spiders acrobatically descend from turbines,
Coincidingly precise, as the walls cry nicotine.
The white rolls of cashmere, instantaneously part thrice,
To the shades of man-transformed cardboard,
Which is tattooed with glue.
My reflection seems to change,
As a link of weather becomes a name.
A solitude is what you find here,
Don’t worry much I won’t be long here.
For the sounds of times of yester-year,
The same flowers don’t grow, although don’t die here.
Magic made in the arts of rain,
Propelling waters to fall between the scenes,
Of two serene humanly beings.
Come once to make love upon a wet bed,
Now love comes held well above their heads,
To reach and grab, this is for fools.
Let it float high, to overrule,
The acts to act for years to come,
The sun’s come up our night is done.
What is There in the World?
February 18, 2008
What is there, but expression on the world;
Artistic, aggressive, subjective expression on the world.
Belated, invaded, post-dated repression of the world.
Poetic sympathetic, discredited appreciation for the world.
Instructive, chaotic, symbiotic acceptance of the world.
What more could you ask of the world,
Than only for what it is.
What more could you ask of your child,
Then for them to have achieved life, from the womb.
Why ask of them tormentations and perversions from life
Why create what will come to be known as strife.
Accept the beauty of harmony,
As we all grow together,
As flesh and soul mend together,
And loves of improper creation are severed forever.
Without an End there is no Achievement.
February 17, 2008
It must be the hardest feeling of sadness,
With which the Lord does feel the world,
When it comes to lengths and times such as these.
For his creations which he has created,
Must eventually cease to be,
And so how may he present himself,
Upon a ship about to sink,
And so shouldn’t we marvel,
At the wonders of the past.
The people who have moved from places,
And have shaped the social ways,
Forgetting those who came from hell,
Are not necessarily bad, this to you I must tell.
Although it be a bad thing to see,
What is wrong with the advantage of a learning capability.
The painters have painted,
The writers have written.
If you can handle the speech, of yourself all alone,
Then the judgment itself for you shall be sewn,
Though if tension with demons, break through to the world,
From the place in your head,
Then I suggest it is best, for one to remains laid in bed.
To learn to articulate the language that shall soothe your very soul.
Learn to gain enjoyment,
From joyous acts of harmlessness,
Be at peace with your rage,
Be at peace center stage,
And behold the gift to feel,
And behold the gift is real.
Come to terms with what you can.
Come to learn from what you can’t.
Without an end there is no achievement.
Without an end this is just grievance.
The Toll
February 15, 2008
I have never spoken to the granter of life.
My vocal chords have been removed in a dream.
My vocal chords have been lost due to love.
I wonder in fictitious amazement,
More towards diminished persuasion,
That my feelings can feel no more,
Since I have hurt so many, whom I do adore.
Leaving me to enjoy,
But the employment of a circumstance,
Harmful only it is to me,
That you face makes up the worldly globe.
A taste I ask to soothe my soul.
On second thought,
A present state-enough-feel,
Unsurrealistically sure,
That the ferry-man will pardon,
My inability to conjure,
My soul, tis’ a toll,
Tis’ a toll to my soul.