Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2015 Marieta Maglas
JAM
There are so many
Words to share, and most of us
Write to own a piece.
You could give the devil a run for his money for the souls you corrupt.
(The devil only I know.)
The sun is gone , the lights are on , we slowly circle towards the dawn . The endless deep beckons sleep , I listen while the willows weep . Warm in subconscious revelry I lie and think of what I’d be and struggle for eternity .
The lonely willow feels the call
Beside a windswept waterfall
The pool of water at its feet
Crystal blue so wild and deep
Is flowing to the endless sea
While singing songs in harmony

The lighthouse flashes warning calls
A sailing ship so fair and tall
Navigates a course to meet
The lonely songs that ring so sweet
The old familiar call at sea
That beckons endless harmony
Something old I wrote long ago that I still like
The endless void swells with the breeze
Of countless stars like tapestries
That sail their ancient primal songs
With all the creatures of the dawn

Myriad waves of force in rhyme
Bend the stone mast with the time
While rainbow’s chorus sings to life
To sail beyond the sea of strife

Introspect , the bottomless key
To stand an island in the sea
And watch the mainsail fill with breeze
On the ship of evermore

The ripples in the endless maw
Sing of mighty tortoise paw
The force that out survives the claw
Of time and matter’s law

Within the harbor of my mind
I search the ocean in the time
To see if I will ever find
My ship to sail the sea of rhyme

Introspect the bottomless key
To stand an island in the sea
And watch the mainsail fill with breeze
On the ship of evermore

Into tomorrow’s skies we fly
On wings of light and castle brine
To see if we will ever find
Within the harbors of our minds
Our ships to sail the sea of rhyme
With the force that out survives the time

In the yellow forest with the trees of time
Talking with the wind there between the wheels of rhyme
Just another color looking for the ocean with it’s mind
Another oldie
hurry boy, don't doze
etch the words before they perish
as the situation once again alters
coiling around your wrist
tugging you to that place
sleep every moment
dwelling in the blankets
soaking in that stale security
false impressions attached/removed
like velcro ripping in the silence
masks on masks on masks on masks on masks on
could spend days pruning in the seabed of potential
while the salt collects on my eyelashes and the days vanish like eons
there are days where the stillness in me quakes my feet
into the fervor of rabbit under moving tire and
I pound the walls for a train to pass and shake the foundation
but the tracks are too far away now, and the stillness creeps
dust collects on the fan blades, then the plastic grating, then the intake
the thing rattles all night now; loose ***** in the front
hardly a substitute for that rumble in your dreams
from an archer daniel's car rushing by at four
the bed is a lot better at this place though
king size, though I'd rather be in california
where the water is warm and the memories catch your falls
I've never been there and the idea is always better than the outcome
kicking sand like a beach bully *** flexing in strut
sun burns within seconds of shirtless self-reveals
the salt is being washed off of the cars
from an illinois winter that the plow conquered to the dismay of
the kids down the block who still waited
at dawn for the diesel yellow groan
the heat is swelling in the season
chirps return with the sting
of rolled up passenger windows
magnifying the clean white light
ninety-eight million miles marched
to a single point on a pale dot
burning that poor gal's cheek
but the medicinal effects
of the smooch are more than known
to generations of the summer awakened,
free-falling, reality born.
here we are again with showers and flowers,
here we are again with cyclones in the alley,
here we are again with cocoons and buffoons,
here we are again with milk in the valley.
this heart pumps as the snow goes rising
to the funnels and pillars east-stretched
where the baby boomers buy plots and
the love begins to reach for an even share.
tlp
satellite of lust
stopping the presses
essentially broken
entrancing machine
never back-step
epileptic idol
old ways are dead
adhere to the lies
essentially broken
entrancing machine  
netting a good one
nearer to mid-life
fed up with the ghost
starting blank again
in a different palace
cemented to space
cemented to space
cemented to space
tlp
Next page