This topic is in tribute to Library Kat.
It is a thead for creative production posting.
My Beginning:
"Dead Birds Don't Fly"
Dead birds don't fly
Tricks of the tail
True love's no high
All else is hell
Next:
I love this song.
"Cold, Cold, Heart"
I tried so hard my dear to show that youre my every dream.
Yet youre afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme
A memory from your lonesome past keeps us so far apart
Why cant I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart
Another love before my time made your heart sad and blue
And so my heart is paying now for things I didnt do
In anger unkind words are said that make the teardrops start
Why cant I free your doubtful mind,and melt your cold cold heart
Youll never know how much it hurts to see you sat and cry
You know you need and want my love yet youre afraid to try
Why do you run and hide from lies,to try it just aint smart
Why cant I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart
There was a time when I believed that you belonged to me
But now I know your heart is shackled to a memory
The more I learn to care for you,the more we drift apart
Why cant I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart
~~Hank Williams
WITHDRAWAL
We meet in confession
But you are not there
Two silly women
And a metaphysical monk
Who keep your place
And each evening after nine
Watch the door and hope
Tonight?
Tonight?
Tonight...
You've got to know we miss you
It's just not the same with three
The table wobbles and the chair
And the cattle limp along the hill
The conversation gabbles into chaff
And our thoughts circle back
And back and back again
We miss your stories
And your laugh
And the daily report
We miss your words
Typed out slowly on the screen
We miss you
Even if you have nothing much to say
Curly Sue is given to sighs
And wonders what you're doing on the land
The Monk is snarling curses
Damning devil-damned computer
Both perverse and unyielding
And the old gypsy misses
Her compañero de la ruta
mi hermano del corazón
We meet in The Real
But not at leisure
And I must bring crumbs
To the others
Who starve for something better
Something with a deal more substance
A bit of sinew and of bone
So I spin this spell of healing
Send it to spiral south
Sing a song of searing sealing
And speak in extremis exorcism
Out damn computer demon
Out damn dark screen of death
Out damn dearth of divination
And come repair most fast
Come blue flicker of the monitor
Come tapping on the keys
Come correction and connection
Come One to join the Three
~Library Kat
OK, you know you can always tempt me in with poetry...
THE TOWER LIES
The tower lies in shambles
The castle is on fire
In this place of blackened demons
You enter torment, enter hell
Below the castle
Beneath the stair
Below dungeon heart of stone
The core where fire burns
And red eyes glow
And dragon caves
Release their fetid stench
I know this place
Below the catacombs
Where the dead walk
With accusatory eyes
And reach fingers of falling flesh
To sink into your eyes
And brand you living
While they die
They suck away your mind
Feed on memory
Draw out the life
And stop your breath
And laugh at lance and sword
I bring you dust and rain
And gospel harmonies
I bring your daughter's laughter
And a bowl of luner light
I sing of sleigh bells in Wisconsin
And a houseboat on the lake
Move along the pathways
Of your tangled skein of thought
And lay halting fingers on your soul
But in the fires, in the shadows
Something living uncoils
Something senscient picks its teeth
And which of us, I wonder,
Will be the beginning of his feast
LK
ASK ME NOT
Ask me not what path has led me to this place
what evil I have done, what sorrow I have wrought
Look into my heart and know that in the black ink of its fabric
the story that is written has brought me to this room
to you
I cannot undo the years of error
I cannot promise years of circumspection
I cannot be more than what I have been
nor less than what I am
I am here and I share this path, this intersection
Let us walk together in joy
from the darkness of the forest
to the rising of the sun
Observations on Language That Come To Me As I Look Over New Book Titles In The Esoteric And Philosophic Genres (yes, that's a title)
How prosaic is our prose
How prone to everyday
What language is this we speak?
And speak with such ennui
Such verbal lethargy
Such verbal sloth
Such verbal loss of verbosity
Whence has fled the ponderous pondering
Of the quixotic questioning mind?
The dark arcana of maleficarums
The malleus of demonalatry
Meant to enflame and ensnare
Where is theogeny and the Edda
To enlarge and light our quest?
And who is the Machiavelli of our time
The Dante who dares our souls
The dolorous passion gives way to orthodoxy
and Schiller's aesthetics to athletics
As we abridge our Webster
to a pocket-size memorial
to a deconstructed language
we decree that all must speak
The Official Language of The State
Whatcha think?
dunno...
dunno...
THE MAGDALENE
I stand upon my rooftop and lean against the rail
the stars are cold and the night grim
olives are ripe upon the trees
and the air heavy with scent
The demons quailed within me
when I came upon you in the way
The pain closed about my heart
like a fist upon the honeycomb
and yours were the fingers
through which the sweetness ran.
I see you still
walking upon the road as though
the road were yours and all beside it
They are sheep that follow you
and lambs
and they are afraid
but you are not afraid.
Where are you now
and why do I stand upon my rooftop
and wonder after a holy man
when demons reside inside?
There is a howling in me at the remembering
and wolfish cries that strive to drown
the memory of your eyes upon mine
but I shall never forget the feel
of your eyes upon mine.
You are a fool, Mary
a fool
there are no possibilities
You mean death for me, Rabbi
death
but I must see thee again, I must
and all the demons in hell
cannot keep me from that moment.
LK
Breathe, dead hippo. Repeat the
troupe of mimes; they draw horrid
faces, creepy all over.
A meditating Bhudda
as we dream impenetrable
lunatic knowledge.
~Catullus