Hope's Pearly Flowers

BhagavadGitaBhagavadGita Posts: 1,748
edited September 2003 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
still no book so I will just work on my own.

Killing me softly…

and now it's your turn….

they are all singing - can't find a betterman
she lies and says she's in love with him because she can't find a better man, because she really doesn't know what love is or a betterman is? except in her dreams and because she loves him. it feels like love and it truly is, but, they both know that eachother are guides along the way to find the ladder to moon that takes them there until………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………you wipe a spider or two off your arm and see the corn grows again and there you are. just where I the dream said you would be, on the other side of a fence in a cornfield talking to me………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… until the real thing comes along and most of your friends will say, like right, show me true love! when does that happen? fuckin almost never. so they say and you ask why can't it be mine? start thinking about it and well your soul becomes

your'e dreaming man.

some of my friends say, you are a fanactical, obsessed dreamer who needs to get a clue. and I ask myself along with 15,000 people. GOD?

why oh why can't I touch him? you. her. think about it long enough and you will turn your heart to ash. so you go sit on the porch take in all you are hearing and then some sad woman, whose love never came, is verbally abusing her daughter. and the people who are your inspiration, these channels of love, also begin to wilt in the wind and you get scared they are going to fling themselves into the sea so they can finally become one with a glowing blue bioluminescence, no longer black

I bet in everylife one dream comes true for each one of you. pick it carefully.

and once you get there you let go and know that it has come true, just because it is so beautiful on…………………….
the street where you live.


maybe one day you'll open the gate for me too. I will be waiting on the other side. J
xooooooooooOOoooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOxoxoOOOOOO

and so it is.
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • PhillyPJPhillyPJ Posts: 1,266
    some poetry:

    I drive a car.

    but without Gas

    it is useless

    so does that make me useless?

    so without Gasoline an Oil

    what do we have

    just Tacos and Pizza

    I guess America just doesn't Understand
  • setaside2setaside2 Posts: 1,084
    Gita, my dream came true in 1996, and I let it go because it was beautiful, yes, but also because I was impatient.

    And now I regret ever handing over the keys to the bondsman.

    Sigh.

    True story.
    I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
  • Originally posted by setaside2
    Gita, my dream came true in 1996, and I let it go because it was beautiful, yes, but also because I was impatient.

    And now I regret ever handing over the keys to the bondsman.

    Sigh.

    True story.

    what happened to you in 1996. where did your dream go?
  • setaside2setaside2 Posts: 1,084
    I fell in love with the perfect love, had it in my hands.
    She fell in love with the same love, I had her in my hands.
    But she ran scared and pretended to ignorance, though it shouted from the fucking SKY that we were one. I had it all and yet I had none.

    I became impatient. It hurt to stay. My poetry had said all it had to say and she was in love with me not just on THAT day but on every other. It became apparent that I loved her. And it became apparent that her fear of loss and her fear of love and her fear of US one day splitting the dark, was bonding her to individuality, to her worries.

    We never officially dated, no. People asked us when we were getting hitched, married, tying the knot, and we would laugh and tell them "Tomorrow. How did you know?" I wasn't strong enough to grab tomorrow by her jaunty pony tailed hair and pull her into today. So... I let her stray.

    Oh we stayed friends and things were fine until I told her that someone ELSE was mine and that Tomorrow was on its way. Her big brown eyes grew wide and misty as she realized the the twine she had laid down in the cave to my heart had somehow vanished behind her, in her fear she had run so far and so fast that the thread had simply run out.

    Yet I loved her still. How could I not? Jazz singin, she didn't walk by god she GLIDES, smoothest voice since Ella Fitzgerald and a piano to haunt the Monk. She was my muse, my goddess, and I am certain that somewhere out there or deep within me, she still maintains a certain... stock in that position; but only after Tomorrow came and went did she decide she loved me and wanted me and that she had LOST her little game of going tharn or running with fear at her heels.

    And yes, she tried, and I had my chance at last. The ability to take her home and make her mine was in my grasp and I trembled at the touch. I have never wanted anything in my life so much. But Tomorrow was past, the vote was cast, and I had to set her free on broken heart and shaking legs. My mind still reels from that night, as she drove off into the streetlight strewn roadways of suburbia.

    It appears that I had been chasing a Jazz Singer in a Ford Escort for so long, I never noticed the sound of her silence and the depth of her absence. I did then.

    Now, after 6 years into tomorrowmorrowland, I find myself splitting the dark with my current captor. She of high infidelity and broken trust, I was no better than three other boys and I find myself thinking what I may have done, where my karma set astray... and I often wonder if my karma followed my love home that day.

    They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all... this may be so but one must be prepared; for if you lose that, if you let it go in some faux heroic act of semi-nobility, be prepared for the search for the next one who could only fill that hole so deep in your mind, that addiction so intense in your soul. It's caffeine and viagra. It's honeycomb and cinnamon. It's the candle that lights the curtains on fire in the midst of heavenly throes.

    You will search and you will not feel whole. She of my downtown soliloquy.
    I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
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