Archive for November 2011
Trouble and Strife
I tried to say this for days
but those words never departed.
They never put the foot
on your doorstep.
So, should I accept the challenge,
endure pocket-size excess
and follow my inherent aptitude?
From one side it's a jabbing end
apart from the decency,
and from another
pain
bible-poking Job
putting out only a fail.
Can you cash me out
to meet the requirements for the hell?
You wouldn't need to thank me
and you'll be very welcomed.
If you're still in doubt,
I'm your succinic perplex
that emboldens your mind
and gives you a long-long night
in the crooked way.
It's my true color of the poltroon
who rather trash all aspects
of the tenderness
and has the nerve to eat up
more than deserves.
At the fairy end, here comes the trouble
and strife:
the little mess I would put you at
wouldn't harm your health.
Conger
Can't you hear me
when I'm calling
you never ever look at me
when we are alone
you dwell away
and look at her
I wish to know
where you mind roams
and in the same time
I'm sorry to see you like this
to suffer like a wound
alone
but so close to me
You're conger like
when it comes to spring currents
and stalagmites
in dark caves
but I know your eyes
they never lie
You dream about
somebody else's anemone
you fake all words and sighs
and urges
and just play
yourself to fool
but never letting go the play.
Head Of Synod
So
you shall gave me in
that immense blueish yonder
and feel so noble
to shoot out
another sparrow?
... the one who will ponder
and drear
and have shafts
lose all ebbs and tides?
But
- Wouldn't it be a greater deduction
if I only plague and wonder
to your dread
to make a modern haircut
to the synod head?
