Things of Implacable Meaning

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 19:19:39 GMT

You don't feel better
now that what was once
so alive
is now what twice leaves you hanging.
longing
for someone new
and for something thats more
than truth.

remind me of being
in love
with you
because memory serves
to rest
without

Tue, 24 Feb 2009 14:42:53 GMT

Simplifying moments,
deciphering.
losing lines in all the simple things

Breakfast on a Sunday,
windows wide and suddenly,

It's never how it used to be,
Yet you're always.

constant and unwavering.

And I need you to leave me.

Tue, 24 Feb 2009 14:36:09 GMT

He is never knowing,
always leaving,
empty spaces,
lost in breathing.

I wonder softly,
willingly.
If life is love and love is mystery,

then imitating love
for you
to consider me.

Is imitating life.

Tue, 10 Feb 2009 19:52:35 GMT

Like Houdini
without the capability,
what feels like flying,
leaves me hanging.

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 17:23:39 GMT

My heart is tired,
heavy handed,
on it your words lay.
It draws the lines that glances drew,
and marks the steps that your steps took.

But your breathing stains my mind,
and fixated, crosses T's and dots the I's,
but let me read your words, my book.
Let me see the heart you took.

I've decided this ones a song.

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 22:20:46 GMT

One set of eyes and I'm freezing,
But you look away
and I'm frozen.

Open and empty,
I'm frozen.
Must be broken.
What I've heard can't be spoken,
It's running circles out of my lines.

Take my hair down,
Strand by strand.
Level me out,
I'm lost in your hands,
Running through fingers like sand
that dusts the shoes on your floor.

One little glance and I'm broken,
Two eyes for one,
I've been stolen.

But I give you up.
I forefit my eyes and I say I'll give up.
I'm too frozen.
I'm quite broken
up in your arms.

Sat, 11 Oct 2008 20:21:38 GMT

It's hard to make this distance wider
than the widest sea
where the waves come crashing,
to common sense and clarity.

You make me what I'll never be.

The principles of such uncertainty,
I walk ahead,
leave you to breathe,
turning the top of the carousel,
and waking me from dreams.

Our legs curl by the blue curtains rim,
and I tie you there and watch you scream,
I know just how it feels to be free,
and where you're running

Familiarity locks away the keys.

You make me what I’ll never be.

Sun, 31 Aug 2008 21:43:31 GMT

The violet seller,
tells the lights to turn out the sun,
but she is far too fond,
of never knowing what to say,
just taking in oxygen,
and giving her flowers away.

sitting right here with you,
means little,
But the smallest everything.

So how does it feel to be getting there?

So she says take a needle,
and sew me a picture,
but it won't be as pretty as you,
as nothing compares now to you,
just take me to someplace that’s crimson
and give me your heart to use.

Sun, 31 Aug 2008 21:37:39 GMT

It's lighting and thunder,
with no distance between,
except miles of wonder,
where the rain clouds have been.

So say it.
Don't play around with me,
Say it.
I can take that I live in a dream.

The house on the hill,
floods from the sky,
gathers my up with my letters and rhymes,
and it thrills me.

So say it,
Don't play around with me,
say it,
I can take it that this doesn’t seem

so important.

Thu, 10 Jul 2008 10:40:42 GMT

I won't live in the city without windows,
without raindrops falling on my mind,
knowing parts that need a rest,
and coldly grabbing hold.

I woke up to find you were never leaving,
But I was already gone,
and you chose to dance out in the room,
singing 'girl it doesn't matter any more'.

Rode my life out to a field,
and left it there beside the handlebar,
spinning wheels until night's shield,
called 'come find me, wherever you are'.

Running here so you will tell me,
'One day',
but you cannot do what you know you cannot say,
And I'm unwilling to write to.

Gosamer thread ties vowels together,
Consenants fall and break in weather,
I gather flowers and throw them back,
and waste my time,
I am never coming back.

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 18:27:33 GMT

In such pressing matters,

Like flowers between rolls of text,

What can be lost?

The memory of a breath,

And the shadow of the sun on fields,

The way your hair sweeps just above your eyes,

And sometimes falls.

Not every moment warrants a picture,

But a gathering of thoughts,

Between dimensions, the 4^th, no 5^th,

We are travellers in time,

And we are still,

always.

Nothings present,

Where I begin the line, I go on and do not re-read,

Except in glimmers, of angled lines,

Love seems gone when summers near,

But love is never too far from here.

This tap on the door is nothing but rain,

It is nothing but rain,

But it is as gentle as withstanding a quiet hour,

And all time after,

Spent with you.

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 15:34:14 GMT

Happy Seventeenth Birthday, Aimee...

I wish you all the happiness and love your beautiful heart can contain... and then some more.

:)

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 19:21:51 GMT

Love to see the shadows dance,
Captured like a soft touch of creaky stair,
Seven steps into a room,
and there,

there is where I sat and wrote to you.

So it was but a letter or five,
and there was no soft reply,
and the ages that we lived through,
stayed ridden of life contrived,

in stone,

and yet I wrote and wrote and wrote to you,
and the paper sang of places green and blue,
and I learnt to be,
like someone else’s roses.

And the summer came with a brush of someone else’s poses,
and someone else’s days spent on the distant shore,
and the waves crossed over on your toes,
and made you paler, gentler than before.

Love to see the swift flight of your eyes to mine,
imagination of all I held divine,
A little way into a room.
and there,
worth no glance or two,

there is where I sit to think of you.

Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:12:50 GMT

Distances have gone away,

They have travelled themselves,

And finding nothing,

Sit and rest near dusty books with withered ends,

Petals damage softly underfoot,

We execute ourselves with woes,

And yet nothing matters,

Above all love,

Yet as I glance, so eagerly waiting your touch,

Everything does.

Drawing the faces of someone I’ve yet to know,

And shading their skin to an inch of blush,

I find such little sleep without thought of you,

And dreams are remembered and lost.

Distances have gone away,

They have travelled themselves,

And finding nothing,

Sit and rest near dusty books with withered ends,

And yet finding something, perhaps its nothing,

Sit and smile near dreams pretence.

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 12:33:52 GMT

Breathe away his carbon dioxide,

Where he sat for the train, I sit one away,

Waiting,

Touching his face like an effigy,

There are marks but no sculptor went wrong,

His hand brushes where mine rested,

I don’t feel it at all.

My ghost says hello in the tunnels,

And the carriages sound flustered too,

He could be anywhere, and I am anywhere,

And yet we are nowhere at all.

A violin chants down the passageway,

And I excavate the notes as they rise,

And yet with such little light,

No one here entertains a smile.

A crumple of papers in my hand,

The nearest touch of life,

I wonder perhaps what he wrote last,

And when his eyes will meet mine.

Fri, 04 Apr 2008 14:11:47 GMT

Hello!

I have a new LJ, as well as this one. Eee how greedy. I've been avoiding dreary work in order to make it!

This ones for my photography and drawings and scrapbooking, and such, and general pretty pictures.

if you would like to be my friend:

http://skiesdreamblue.livejournal.com/

I would be very merry indeed.

:)

xxxxxxxxxxx

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 21:52:55 GMT

Drawing

It did not feel like flying,

And the air was little but a dream,

Yet I swept you there beneath my writing desk,

Catching dust and embers,

But I can’t keep you,

I do not need you now.

Sometimes when it’s too late to speak,

I consider the detail,

Ink pens flatter white faces,

They lose all the places,

Here geography is nothing.

I can make you a gathering of lines,

But I must tell you I can no longer see for miles,

A library up high so the birds can read,

They are flying, and we are breathing little sighs,

See the paper stack beside my bed,

Plaguing my thoughts with knowledge,

And gazing skywards to forget,

I fear perhaps I need you now.

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 13:14:39 GMT

A small print from a kiss,

Drawing long hearts on windowsills,

Summer bells ring out,

But there’s despair about the roses,

They bloom and prepare to die,

Wondering if all the months alive were any different at all.

Do I hope beyond treatments nature?

Where options are consumed, so few,

And the one poor letter remains unrealised,

And closure takes away,

It takes me away to close them all.

A desperate attempt to willingness,

Falling upon the cards on windowsills,

Smoke rises high above the trees,

But no one’s there to see,

I witness you alone,

Wonder if maybe you appreciate the beauty of oxygen.

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 13:01:46 GMT

I see them walking off,

Two colours that do not blend,

Apathy for the hands held tight,

converts to truth,

and takes form beyond its lifeless apprehension.

The uncomforting love of your smile,

Seated but still tender by my side,

We are altered, in quiet passing time,

And affections matter little.

Begin to stoop those low eyes to one side,

under satins misuse, and chalky water,

and a dozen cups of air.

You I aim to please,

Beyond pleasure itself,

Beyond recognition of myself.

I feel as if my eyes are closing,

And the light seems brighter seeping through,

And you aren’t there to witness,

Our hearts abide by rules.

Mon, 03 Mar 2008 16:43:49 GMT

Standing a chance is better when seated.

There are times in which,

The grave robbers leave their treasures,

And you and I are a touch enough so close,

As to our misgivings, our reservations,

Does the ink I write you in taste nice?

Too easily renewed to a comfortable silence,

You are incomparable at best,

But standing a chance is better when seated.

Apologies, but you know I meant to be indifferent,

And like our time, held unsteady,

Which alteration finds.

The conversation, the telephone,

The early morning seems brighter with you here,

And I have incentive.

Too easily renewed to a comfortable silence,

You are incomparable at best,

But standing a chance is better when seated.

These images are self explanatory,

A bag of arrows and a bow,

We hang freely on the stairwell,

And I mimic the glance you take,

Then lie to cover my footprints in the sand.

Transcend

Wed, 27 Feb 2008 21:59:36 GMT

So content with the handed fee,

I deem to think you talk to me with such enamour,

And yet we are not alike except carelessly,

And there is no common ground to stand upon,

But I make it.

Through all the paper cuts of a hundred mills,

This can transcend.

Yet the crime about me beats steadily,

Except when pulse rates fly,

Wonders of what could be,

Take presence and reside,

Behind me your eyes have their hush,

Your name hits the page of my newest letter,

Just a forceful touch before regret,

So through all the splinters of a hundred trees,

This can transcend.

The endless strength of ribbon falling into muddy ruin,

Falsities perhaps are worse than that,

For I don’t believe that you can be ridden,

Neither can I begin.

Wed, 27 Feb 2008 21:45:44 GMT

After the Story

Unfamiliar of the distance time creates,

Like five years is a butterfly’s wing,

And writing on walls is removable,

With or without you here,

I have a preference if you’d like to hear,

Unaddressed envelopes and perfumed air,

I’ve a theory and regrettably some vision,

But I can see us living,

And there’s no dubbed voices and laughter,

And I’m not afraid of giving in.

Pages upon pages of good riddance ripped to shreds,

Just a storybook where you lived for five years,

And now you’re here I feel it,

And now I’m gone I notice,

I count down weeks till I count away a year.

I have no saviour when you say you’re going home,

And when I wave to you I’m waving there alone,

And such departure means no light,

But when it’s dark its just outside,

And I look up to you,

But the clouds aren’t picture frames.

I have a preference if you’d like to hear,

Homecomings and leavings and saying ‘dear’,

I’ve a theory and dreams like visions,

There I can see us living,

And there’s no dubbed voices and laughter,

And I’m not afraid of giving in.

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 20:23:34 GMT

Tower

Tap to the wrong door,
Sharing the piano beats,
Just once more,
and then no more,
I feel dizzy when our backs are turned,
Sitting neatly on the floor again,
I look up and you tower,

I look up and you tower.

Love like minds,
and the way the postman hums,
so deliverance so sweet,
rose petals and perfume smells so pretty
but you're too far away to know,
except when miles and miles,
become just next door.

I look up with you.

Crosswords on the side,
and a towel, and your smile,
Just once more,
and then no more,
I think I ask too much,
but just what for, love?
I look up and you tower,

I look up and you tower.

____

Thank you Aimee for your nice comments.
I hope you're having fun, and dream of pastel skies and moomin lands.

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 13:08:25 GMT

Early Spring

Talcum powder floats away down stream,

We disappear long enough,

So steady as the winter,

We seem.

Well springs here early,

And the birds are calling,

And you’re not calling,

And so like a season – so without reason,

I’m falling.

Everyone watched,

But nobody saw,

As the loose dress hung heavy on the door,

And so its here early,

Less to be expected,

Of a whole lonely, little year.

I’ve been doing well from what they say,

But then again they never understood,

What its like to be here yearning,

As you go out driving,

Do the open roads breathe you more air?

Windows wide raging,

But there’s no pathetic fallacy here,

In a torrent of ageing,

You can’t really become very clear,

When you’re ever-changing,

With every minute,

Of a whole lonely, little year.

Hats and gloves float away down tide,

You disappear long enough,

To see something out of sight,

A key to let me out?

Well springs here early,

And the birds are calling,

And you’re not calling,

And so like a season – so without reason,

I’m falling.

Sat, 09 Feb 2008 17:51:02 GMT

L’hotel Ange

A hundred rooms to be alone in,

To save their souls in,

And wonder what it is,

About you,

I decide,

Yes I decided that I loved you,

And now to take it back would be thick, woolly clouds on sunshine,

You had no heart beyond the cynicism,

And lacking sentiment that shatters like the flies,

Group together the pieces,

The damsels in distresses,

And you’re undressing,

Consider me impressed.

Beyond the sea,

There’s more like that,

More houses to break, pulling down the dreams,

A headache from the radiation,

And likely heartache formed by desperation,

But I decide,

Yes I decided that I loved you,

And now to take it back would be better left alone