In the tired moonlight where the rain falls without relent
there stands someone almost heavensent,
standing in the rain
Without remorse but resistant
to change, in the rain
the person attracts a group.
Reluctantly each person plants a melancholy flower
right in the resonance of the also
reluctant rain.
Each person passes each other with a look
of hopeless gloom
as they leave their flowers relectuntly
in the realm of the rapacious rain.
~"Something Happened When the Flower Met the Rain"
-Logan
Dreams give me an awful inspiration
that paves the way to dark interpretation.
Grant me the gift of giving
and I promise you the reddish sun will be sed-setting
the stage for a most awful new wedding.
The harmonious insects shriek with grim joy
at the prospect of gaining a most beautiful new toy.
As the omnimous clouds most kindly recede
we set fire the candles for the light that we need
to see another's faces in the very first scene
and let loose the shrill sound of a terrified scream.
Release the flames burning me up from the inside out.
Don't let me cower, don't let me die.
Make me dauntless,
And let my eulogy be written in my happy blood.
See the headless man playing himself like a cello?
His leg is his bow.
And he sighs:
"It's so cold where the singers let loose their helpless cries.
"I wish I could see the dim light in their eyes.
"Concealed in this dark room of my very own will,
"I can only recognize the many voices tonight.
"...Give me just one look,
"Then another
"I want to be your reoccurring dream.
"So you, too, may begin to cry
"As you recognize the many voices tonight."
Blinding brightness fills this dying forest
and crimson clouds crawl through its smog.
Soar high above to see the city
in its glorious cloud of fog.
Regard the golden ashes falling from burnt wings,
falling without a sound.
We are the palour soaring down
to study all the dead things.
Golden ashes flutter down upon me
as I stand below brass arches watching
nothing move in a silent city,
more silently than a deathrow promenade,
the stations and the newsstands make a horrible facade.
Folly fuels ambition greater than remorse
to cut the puppeteer's strings with a more redundant force.
And mocking golden cyclones turn to grey
as our force reveals their ugly dissarray
that is more doleful than the disdain of death itself
and more remorseful than a raven sitting on the bookshelf.
The hanging gardens were so lovely in their canopy of snow
but now, like everything, have lost their vibrant glow.
Wear the willow
wear the sackcloth,
(infandum renovare dolorem),
and give sorrow words.
Waft a sigh from the Indus to the pole
and sigh like a furnace (gnashing teeth),
(fondre en larmes),
to cry yourself blind
be in the melting mood.
Well a day! Lack a day! Wellaway! Alas the day!
(O tempora, O mores! Miserabile dictu!)
~"Semantics and Semiautomatics"
We are unstoppable now, and we've only just begun,
now we sing our unmanned carols and shroud our faces from the sun.
The stand neuter moon takes no interest in we,
but finally tells us that our time has come.
We live by the hymns we hum.
We are the warped and weak, we have no purpose in our lives.
Faithless, hopeless, lost, and cruel
we'll be our own demise.
Just give us one rule to break;
Just one truth do bend because
we feel this day will never end.
Our itching palms fancied to take a leap into the dark,
but to make assurance double sure,
we stirred the blood one last time before we left.
In the courstyard we donned robes heaven would admire,
and in the fire we became the nightmare choir.
Acrimoniously, we sang:
"We are the three lines with four spaces,
"and if you look closely, you'll see
"that we all have the same faces.
"Singing into a night set deep on fire,
"we are the infinite night to shun away the day.
"So many, so wise in certain death...
"We will be singing to our last breath."
With longing, wistful sheep's eyes we were denied,
but finally realized we could never be satisfied.
~"As You Like It, Those Who Are The Laughingstock"
We were weighed in the balance and found unwanted, but at the height of our plight we looked to the sky and almost saw the future lolling in a field of pallid lillies that kissed our feet with the strangest of lips. Weary of rejection, we sought comfort in the sight of our reflection, but by the time we reached Lethe, there was nothing left of us to see. Some searched madly for what they had lost, but the sensible simply strolled away, taking pride in the idea that the sun would never shine for them again. In the silence we solemnly sang a sacred song and, as we did, the serpents rose from their burrows to have a listen to the hosts as the lyrics seemed to light the sky in a luminous fashion. And as we entered the place that is Inbetween the Worlds, we left a message waving in the air like a banner and blessed it with the unholiest of words...words that sound familiar but are truely not. Cast reflection, cast reproach, cast a slur upon the ghost.
Arg! The Word I say when I'm mad
See the headless man illuminated by the light of burning books?
His bones are the bindings.
And he rages:
"My blood was used to write the words on those great pages,
"destined to be read in crimson books on black-lit stages.
"My only consolance in the firelight's low glare
"is that I will be able on this hellish night
"to compose the many voices screaming at the light.
"Sit and stare--It's all I want,
"because I want to be your anything; the everything you see.
"On the coldest of nights, the only warmth comes from my burning words
"as I compose the many voices screaming at the light."
philander: to make love casually or frivolously
See the headless man masquerading as a clown?
His makeup is useless.
And he sings:
"All the children love my quiet panderings.
"In the limelike yellow moonlight their laughter chimes and rings.
"I give them silver apples tied up neatly in a bow
"and teach them secret magic words that only they may know.
"They sit and stare-They stare all day,
"They look at me all day!
"And as I draw my long finale deep into the night,
"there echoes, loud and full of might, many voices screaming with delight."