DanielBenoit
09-22-2009, 12:33 AM
Here's an old old one that some of you may have already seen on my blog. Either way, I'm posting it :D
Sleep
Silently, so softly
Is the noise and violence of sleep
Within it is ourselves, trapped
Overtaken by its spell, its
High singing, shall sleep not say
It is high time, time has come to stop
It has slowed and numbed its ticking
The narcotics of sleep being its cause
As if waking up from a weary dream
Forgetting the ability to remember
Overcome by a feverish high
So rests the sleeper in silence and persistence
But silence and persistence do not always allow stillness to follow, especially in sleep
For many eternal battles are fought silently
With signs of bloody struggle splattered on the warrior’s sword,
Not a sound of a scream
Nor the drop of a needle
Is heard, drowned out by silence
But it only takes the breaking of the looking glass
From silence, echoing its wave across mountains
Chanting its name, with aggression and coercion
With falsity and illusion, deception and delirium
As if in a trance, flailing, forgetting and flailing, forgetting
The hypnotic night, speeding without limit
To its constant goal of slowing
Itself giving a false representation
Like the impression of a face glued to the surface of time,
Silence lasts and then is broken
By the smashing and breaking of glass,
Then, silencing silence
Slipping, as if into a deep sleep
Seeping, seeping says the stone as it
Fagles its way to the bottom
Of the ocean, deep within it’s never ending
Depth, depth is the distraction of man
From otherworldly things it descends
Descending, drowning in a never ending loop
The hand of death, puts its palm over the brain
Seeping, sapping all of the life out of it
Until death plays a trick
It begins to speak, speaking
Of such things, its grip tightens
No pressure, none at all
Something more dangerous; warmth
Death spreads out its arms and embraces
The body, then the mind, with warmth
For death is sleep and sleep is death and
The world is all but this, within it
Trapped
Sound delaying its triumph
Yet this is a misrepresentation
For sound does not hold its peace
It is the ear which has its defenses up
Silence draining, like water down a sink
But where does that water go?
Images into images, sight into sight
The piercing sound of silence
Has given my guitar a new melody
Shrieking, silently, its soft sound
Sleep
Silently, so softly
Is the noise and violence of sleep
Within it is ourselves, trapped
Overtaken by its spell, its
High singing, shall sleep not say
It is high time, time has come to stop
It has slowed and numbed its ticking
The narcotics of sleep being its cause
As if waking up from a weary dream
Forgetting the ability to remember
Overcome by a feverish high
So rests the sleeper in silence and persistence
But silence and persistence do not always allow stillness to follow, especially in sleep
For many eternal battles are fought silently
With signs of bloody struggle splattered on the warrior’s sword,
Not a sound of a scream
Nor the drop of a needle
Is heard, drowned out by silence
But it only takes the breaking of the looking glass
From silence, echoing its wave across mountains
Chanting its name, with aggression and coercion
With falsity and illusion, deception and delirium
As if in a trance, flailing, forgetting and flailing, forgetting
The hypnotic night, speeding without limit
To its constant goal of slowing
Itself giving a false representation
Like the impression of a face glued to the surface of time,
Silence lasts and then is broken
By the smashing and breaking of glass,
Then, silencing silence
Slipping, as if into a deep sleep
Seeping, seeping says the stone as it
Fagles its way to the bottom
Of the ocean, deep within it’s never ending
Depth, depth is the distraction of man
From otherworldly things it descends
Descending, drowning in a never ending loop
The hand of death, puts its palm over the brain
Seeping, sapping all of the life out of it
Until death plays a trick
It begins to speak, speaking
Of such things, its grip tightens
No pressure, none at all
Something more dangerous; warmth
Death spreads out its arms and embraces
The body, then the mind, with warmth
For death is sleep and sleep is death and
The world is all but this, within it
Trapped
Sound delaying its triumph
Yet this is a misrepresentation
For sound does not hold its peace
It is the ear which has its defenses up
Silence draining, like water down a sink
But where does that water go?
Images into images, sight into sight
The piercing sound of silence
Has given my guitar a new melody
Shrieking, silently, its soft sound