Deep and overstood, Love

My Last Song


There used to be a time.

I would form poems in my mind, before I wrote them down.

Such a time now seems like a distant memory.

Now, the letters just fall off my fingers.

The words choke me on their way out.

They rap softly at my door.

Then hop all over, the moment I let them in.

Maybe it is because we are joined at the hip.

You are the tune that no longer kills me softly.

You watch me rolling up this hill like this heart is in need of Zion.

The rocks at my feet try to build a wall that stops my rhythm.

This song that claims the dust you shake off.

Your feet move to the whistling of the wind between the grasses that now beckon you to their roots.

My eyes remain fixated on your face.

Watching a teardrop of joy mark your left cheek.

The whispers of angels brush your eyebrows.

Carving a straight path to your mind where a classical ballet is in motion.

I’m conducting with all my soul to the beat of your heart.

Feelings are electric and in spirit we dance to this music.

We form our own country amidst the watchful eye of these folks.

Don’t they see that we form a shield against all their judgements?

They can try all they want but this house stands not on just rock but hard metal.

Their voices can try match our crescendo but we choose to ignore their innuendo.

I care nothing for their alternative sounds when I’m in awe of the soundtrack to my heart.

I am captivated and held in a trance so my wings can grow painlessly.

This is the new age and the alleged allegro of our love will not faze us.

They do not understand that I am ok with you becoming my blues.

The repression of my depression is no longer needed.

The melancholy of my notes now just makes for easy listening later on.

It is only in this pin drop silence that my drum and bassline can be heard as it approaches from afar.

It is only then that I can make out your words.

It is here and now that I can see you for who you are.

The only way you can leave me singing of the revelation of the gospel of pure and true love.

Your lips beat me out of the box so my mind can be open to the impossible.

This way I don’t have to ask for your hand in marriage but your heart with courage.

You have become my nonexistent path that I do not plan to leave on the trail I have created.

I drop more bombs on my burning bridges.

Because, I have arrived at the castle whose keep I have no plans of leaving.

I no longer put my emotions in check but place love under siege.

If I’ve broken so many hearts maybe this hitman finally needs a bodyguard.

After being tone deaf for so long I now have the right pitch.

Zigzag sidewalks try to make me lose my way to this opera.

Ready for the beat to drop so I can string my bow.

Advance swiftly to the front of the choir just before the instrumentals set the speakers ablaze.

I pluck a few notes to introduce her as my new melody.

You might need to stay seated for this orchestra.

double_infinity_by_codenameparanormal-d6o6rdx
Image source: https://codenameparanormal.deviantart.com/art/Double-Infinity-403423269

 

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Deep and overstood, Love

Seeking my hide


I apologize for any time I have not given a damn.

I provide a new excuse for every fourth quarter I have lost.

This sight is now yours only.

I gave up trying to spell love.

I have chosen to be loved and lost in your spell.

I remember when I used to be so high that my feet barely touched the ground.

You became my new drug.

I’m now walking away from Mars towards a new heaven.

I’m tired of my blood soaked pages.

It is time I wrote in new ink.

 

Maybe cracked hearts seep love more easily.

Maybe cracks hurt those who fight them.

Today, I embrace the results of my id.

I am no longer fighting the consequences of my ego.

I guess I am feeling super.

I am lost in dreams of you.

You only step in for some moments to hold my hand.

How then can it be that you are an angel in reality?

I choose not to exist but you give me a reason to live.

Learning lessons of my ludicrous and lackadaisical life.

Shedding scabs and letting the wounds show.

 

I’m tired of hard hearts feeding my feral nature.

I can’t see your smile because I’m lost in your eyes.

I can’t smell you because I’m embracing everything around you.

I can’t taste you because I’m devouring my old self.

Wisdom is of no use if I keep falling on the same path.

A man is more than his word, even when plural.

That is why what you perceive is greater than what I can say here.

You make me want to be selfless.

But even that feels self-serving when I try to walk in your steps.

 

I’d say I’m a prisoner of your soul.

But I searched for the keys and walked into this cell.

It’s not a mutiny when I want to take a swim within you.

Can’t you see me defending to the death your right to drown me?

Believe in my opposing and hidden nature coming out.

I no longer dumb down my words just because I’m scared of heights.

The fog feels like a past hangover fading off from my last drop of liquor.

Maybe my fingers getting stuck in your hair is a sign.

Maybe the sound of you saying my name is the new elixir.

What is for sure is that I’d want you to be mine.

But my battered old ghost is whispering in my ear.

It is better to be yours.

Deep and overstood, Life

Aloha


You want to be a quote that I forget.
A fun word that discombobulates me.
But I want to put your name in quotes and become your apostrophe.
I wanna dot on your eyes.
Never be cross with your teases.
Be part of your third generation grammar.
Paint with words what you cannot see.
I want to stand on a platform.
So I can heighten my standing with you.
I want to be able to breathe out whenever I breathe you in.
Knowing that I will get a million chances to do it again.
The prose in your walk is not lost when I pronounce your name.
But the poetry in your smile has killed this rhyme wizard.
Senses have been reduced to constant invalid dreams.
Awake, I find the reality, just a tad bit unfair.
But it is in your shy eyes that I get lost in again.
Real is the feeling as I wander aimlessly in your mind trying to find a path to your heart.
Adapting to being just near you.
We elicit notes delivering operatic despondency.

Deep and overstood, Life, Love

Just another Viking myth


Ragnar:

My dear little but dangerous dragon.
I am not in envy of your power.
I would just want to be allowed to love you.
Power was given only to those prepared to lower themselves to pick it up.
And my back is arthritic.
In your big eyes I see a reflection of my pain in your emotions.
What are you hiding?
Why does it seem like you carry the colds of the long winter in your heart?
Has summer not thawed you even a little bit?
Born in blood but living as an icebox.
You have decided to feed the wrong jaw.
Your work out just makes you lopsided.
Your leaning is not cool but just a show of an illegitimate scale.
Why don’t you fly?
Why have you grounded yourself?
Surely the sky offers more than the greener grass that you now lie on.

Toothless:

My dear Ragnar, what happens when my toothless smile can no longer hide the tears for my lost tail wing?
I did not choose not to fly but my heavy heart can no longer soar.
I am clumsy at love because someone did not put back the broken pieces of my last flight properly.
I am not feeding the wrong jaw.
I’m just being fed the wrong hearts.
Black and sooty blood is not like the red I was born in.
Creeping around me and trying to make me one of their cousins.
The sky is indeed the best place to be.
But the fall is as hard as jumping from this heart’s ego to the mind’s IQ.
I am not despondent.
I just have no up to give and so I choose to down the next lay.
I hear the Earl has gathered his cohorts for one last hunt for me.
Why are they trying so hard when I’m already lying in wait?
Could you go get them for me?
I long for that last stab so they can be as surprised as I am when they can’t penetrate my rock of a heart.

Ragnar:

I’m blind to your suicide letters.
I see in you via a spiritual channel.
Where there be no licking of hands to soften the reality that I need to tell you.
Count yourself lucky that these shoulders still have the strength for two.
I will never let them find you.
In the eternity I shall create.
You shall take off from the fear of lacking flight.
But when the air catches your new wings.
I will make sure that the wind blows just right so you never have to fall again.
When I push you over the precipice in your final everlasting flight.
Consider that your last fall because I shall join you soon after.
Your real pain has not been the fear of flying but the fear of flying alone.
I cut off my wings once but now watch them regrow.
They only do when I am helping those deemed as worthy as you are.
I don’t need to hammer these truths into you.
Though I have to say an iron will is needed.
This hulking mountain we still have to climb.
I will be the captain of this merry car now.

Toothless:

I am lost in your energy and the power you possess to see past my black window.
I eye the hawks as they screech in disbelief at how far I’ve fallen.
I did believe that on this occasion the silver band on my finger was slit.
I have been drinking from too many broken goblets.
And I become pale considering adding a new spring to my past smashing look.
This hope you carry will one day be the end of you.
Why try to put off the inevitable?
The gods no longer listen to you but you still believe in yourself.
You say that your existence and those you can see is what drives you.
What will you do then Ragnar?
When I jump from this cliff and my makeshift wings do not catch the wind?
Who will be there for you Ragnar?
Here, hop on my back.
Let us find out together.

Deep and overstood, Life

Revelations


Can you hear the gnawing in the dark?
You’re no longer all knowing in the murk.
Screeching of raised souls.
Sounds like music for your sorrows.
Do you welcome the grim grief of past memories?
Dance with your demons and so nostalgic are the stories?
You’re stepping down this flight of stairs.
Where you once buried all your cares.
Heavy are your footsteps.
You can almost hear the helplessness but nothing helps.
See you standing at the altars of slain hearts.
Screaming pardon my French but you know it hurts.
Torn between your values and vices.
Peeling off each of your disguises.
Your thoughts sting like your tears used to.
But now dehydrated, your eyes can’t see what your pains do.
You’ve become the embodiment of lethargy.
Tired of living through this fantasy.
They call it life but you just find strife.
Your back welcomes the stabbing knife.
Cyanide pills for your bad breath.
Dark roses for your wreath.
This is where they lay you.
You forgot to write an epitaph of what they knew.
You’re Beethoven.
Composing dirges as you lay your heart to rest.
You’re Van Gogh.
Listening but painting what you can no longer hear.
You’re V, playing orchestra to each grenade you add to your being.
You’re Edgar Allan Poe.
Lost in goodbye letters of the life you lived in your mind.
You’re Kurt Cobain.
Strumming teen spirit as you hum to “If I Die Young”.
You can feel Nirvana.
You’re transcendent.
You’re looking forward to life on Mars.
Because Venus last choked the life out of you.
You don’t gasp for breath when the past drowns you.
You’re ready to lay to rest.
If you don’t reincarnate.
You will lie there in your new found peace.
You’re Cole, and your death by the mirror is for your eyes only.
You’re Lamar, you realized there’s no justice in the mad city.
You’re Macklemore, and the dream of your ten thousand hours has ended at the feet of the same love.
Lost in your non existent rhymes.
Divine is how you see the Heavenly splendour that welcomes you.
You just hope you won’t be judged a bandit.