Alien Landscape

dimples and dragons

i was such a typical teen-age misfit. i would say i still am but for the reason that i am rapidly decaying into adulthood. i wrote very rhythmic poetry though. i was an apprentice of wayward rhythm and songs. one of the pieces i could not really remember writing is When Silence Fall. something i have forgotten how to read for i can make out no meaning or feeling. it was written when i was sixteen. a wee lass i was really. not literally of course. i was tall and awkward. i was a writer-athlete. a liar-preacher. a knitting-vandal. therefore 'wee' in terms of significance. the poetry was an attempt of appearing larger than what i really am. of course it was a mistake. i grew even smaller, even further. i broke hearts and have brain-spaghetti for meals. i fought wars with shadows and made love to the silence. to the silence.

When The Silence Fall

Seven moons and fragility intact
The silence speak in cracked repitition
Two falling stars and dusty tracks
Reality and tears remain in question

Three reflections of broken hope
The silence walk in sordid caution
A dream of pain and a tattered rope
The ache of a weakened evasion

Sizzling tears upon scalding cheeks
Inanimated heart of crazed perfection
Ruthless silence so you speak
Free from capture, angel of intention

A snowflake of tommorow's dead days
Stretches of white and peaceful sedation
The final stroke of quill endplay
Thus so begins and eternity of isolation

Embitter the poet with tender laughing beauty
The rise and conquest of a mocked creation
Feel the poverty of a forlorn fantasy
Shed no tear for she who attends laughing sessions

Rejoice and cry on your departure
Kissing the bone knitter while remaining fractured.

Posted by NHJ 9/02/2005 12:06:00 pm

Friday, September 02, 2005