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More from *GUDRUN355

Put out my eyes...Put out my eyes: I can see you.  Close my ears: I can hear you and without feet, I can go to you and without a mouth, I can still implore you.  Break my arms; I hold you with my heart as if your heart were in my hands. Stop my heart and my brain will pulsate  and thrust fire into my brain, then I will carry you in my blood!
The End of the WorldThere is a weeping in the world as if the loving God had died and the leaden shadows which sink lower weigh as heavily as the grave.   Come, we want to hide nearer to one another. Life lies in all hearts as if in coffins.  There! We want to kiss each other deeply. There throbs a longing in the world - therein we must die.
If you would ever wonderI was to be envied and disappointed with no way to tell you what course life would take - the dream takes its toll - as always a mystery which would not be defined - words to you were words - failed words and images ill reported. I have recourse to rivers and the need to try again...the life was rained upon, drowned in numbers of inevitable years - lost in currents of every great river of the world - silty beds obscured clear vision - the struggle to be swept clean by healthy winds. It was done slowly, painfully - a breaking fury, resounding night noise - terrible but cleansing - too soon, too soon, taken up again by torrents, destroying rest
The SwanCorruptor race, as vain men are
I too pretend to own a star
but mine is white
   much as a swan
whose loveliless engulfs her pond;
She swam away the moon and night
till other stars gave up their fight.

So there was day
and sunny skies
and no one slept
or closed their eyes
and death was still
and life was gay
but much was used
or thrown away.
And no man missed
or mourned the night
the blind from birth
do not miss sight
but there shrieked a bat
who could not feed
to a tired earth
and her tired seed...

And I, I missed night
   most of all
I loved to see my curtain fall
I loved to see the orange moon
and I missed the
Those that turn aroundIt is those that turn around, who find the eyes of power - continually strange and unknowing - that they too have the gift to see. It is in living corners that one finds them, in quiet abuse, unending struggle - to withstand uselessness and realize something more! It is this we miss - when we ignore footsteps, voices in the dark, potentially dangerous assailants of thought and creativity - ideas muffled like rain on cold, canvas roofing.
Hillside BattlefieldIt was enough to say love
when neither of us understood
but did you know I dreamed
a terrible thing last night?

On a hillside battlefield
we met again
and talked again.
Damn my voice!
It goes and comes,
speaking acceptable phrases
as if they were honest.
We talked of death
in frightening visions,
scenes from illuminated books
and demonic manuscripts,
Friends can still cry
on hopeless hillsides
when they recognize
each other for the first time.
I wanted you to know
that even when
your skies were darkest,
I have stood in similar shadows.
Look! Ther war is everywhere,
here before we die
and after.
It is all so useless..

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August 31, 2012
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May 8, 2012, 4:44:22 PM
JGUSS2403182010
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