oh, if i could

YellowYellow Posts: 699
edited January 2004 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
i'd run nails
through your shirts
and deep into the boards below you
I'd hold you down
and weep in your face
and pray
the salt was still worth something

you

ethereal

corporeal someplace where your spirit is sent elsewhere for love
It's all yellow.


Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • setaside2setaside2 Posts: 1,084
    the reply is muffled by the lace,

    heart on your sash...

    why the eyeshadow bleeds so purple in the shadows of an evening storm.

    the rain may wash

    the hands torn

    and burned by a travel through the hair.

    love is nobody's martyr.

    the grace the rapture the glory the net,

    oh so captured and sopping wet in this daily drizzled haze.

    the salt is worth the devil's fear;

    that epoxy bond so strong, so forthright,

    that the night may bow and gaze upon itself-

    its deepest respect the urn within which we slumber-

    ashes to ashes flung upon this lidless wonder.

    the flames are not remembered,

    the passion full fledged and fleshed out amongst the leaves in the autumnal tide pool.

    whither goest thou, young angel?

    and whence doth the questions arise?

    your answers were flung upon this lidless sky,

    dust to dust your proven why.

    take your tears of salt and hydrogen,

    smear them away.

    let them not darken your tailored silk, holding fashion in their sway.

    it is neither the flag we wave nor is it the prose we read

    i remember the nails,

    i planted those seeds

    and your love came back to me;

    the net the glory the rapture the grace

    all for one kiss

    upon my face.
    I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
  • :)
    Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
  • BhagavadGitaBhagavadGita Posts: 1,748
    Originally posted by setaside2
    the reply is muffled by the lace,

    heart on your sash...

    why the eyeshadow bleeds so purple in the shadows of an evening storm.

    the rain may wash

    the hands torn

    and burned by a travel through the hair.

    love is nobody's martyr.

    the grace the rapture the glory the net,

    oh so captured and sopping wet in this daily drizzled haze.

    the salt is worth the devil's fear;

    that epoxy bond so strong, so forthright,

    that the night may bow and gaze upon itself-

    its deepest respect the urn within which we slumber-

    ashes to ashes flung upon this lidless wonder.

    the flames are not remembered,

    the passion full fledged and fleshed out amongst the leaves in the autumnal tide pool.

    whither goest thou, young angel?

    and whence doth the questions arise?

    your answers were flung upon this lidless sky,

    dust to dust your proven why.

    take your tears of salt and hydrogen,

    smear them away.

    let them not darken your tailored silk, holding fashion in their sway.

    it is neither the flag we wave nor is it the prose we read

    i remember the nails,

    i planted those seeds

    and your love came back to me;

    the net the glory the rapture the grace

    all for one kiss

    upon my face.


    i weep at your feet.
  • setaside2setaside2 Posts: 1,084
    wow hey...

    it makes me feel... i don't know...

    it worked.


    <sad smile> it worked.


    seta.
    I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
  • YellowYellow Posts: 699
    no no sad sweet pete
    betta seta
    It's all yellow.


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