Where oh where oh where to take the stars,
My dearest, sweetest whom I must guide away from liars…
Time stretches her arms to extend despondency
Autumn mirrors my melancholy….
Yet the world’s sourly wrought ages,
Wrinkle primitive inclinations…
Beings composed in disintegration…
A contained container with contents somewhere else…
The song of the wind in a planet Mars….
Ridiculous words that deceive the self-proclaimed
Astronauts who have never seen the stars…
We’ve ceased to understand what impediments are
As we merely speak of them from our inner gnomes…
Scattering ourselves without motion,
Feigning malfunctions in our chromosomes..
If tides and currents make good scours
We’ll be mistaking them for scars…
Maxims, Axioms, Dictums of who?
Unbuild my dreams and break my rhymes…
Meridians prime, where I can’t find
The over-stalked lover in Pacific’s crimes
Magnetic Storms cast me frozen
While I hold the burnings stars…
I must stretch Time’s arms even longer
For a diameter’s half that breaks seven bars…
My dearest child, kept in gray
I hope we both don’t ever go astray…
I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would die…
Pre-death pre-burial requiems…
Lethal notes… Morose words and non-words…
I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would live forever –
Forever in the dungeons of my benevolence.
And then, I wanna cry my soul out as if I’ve lost God…
But first, wish that I still have a soul for I no longer know…
I wanna run in circles within an untamed wilderness
to feel that I am not lost, in circles, running and wanting untamed…
after my tears have equalled the waves of all the world’s seas
including her… her tsunamis of centuries…
I want to find myself at the edge of a snow-capped mountain and never rest
then scream my frozen lungs out after expelling my guts,
scream until I hear only the sound of my recovered voice –
the one that could read and write sadder than almost the saddest poem…
Distorted and soul-starved,…
What did I say?
Straving for my soul,
I don’t ache to feel a little less alive…
Nor do I merely ache…
My madness does not represent a longing for joy.
Madness sways beyond the barbwires of longings.
Thus, not even a longing for death.
(You don’t need to die to be dead).
My loneliness is not soothed by company.
Loneliness is glory!
My burden blinds with the northern lights best in darnkess.
My passions severe the cosmos with their controlled nonexistence…
There is nothing more worse for me and ill
than the brooding mediocrity when I do not sing when I will.
“Almost the Saddest Poem” is a remake of The Saddest Poem. But herein, the context changes somehow but the end-point remains. How can not being able to sing (no matter how you sound or don’t sound as silence can be music) be so sad? P.S. The titles have nothing to do with the levels of sadness in each of them.
I know no love apart from madness,
no love that can’t fear unspeakably and yet, still dare
I know no love without insurmountable woe,
No love that can’t hold exuberant eternity in a blink so mundane…
I know no love that can’t magically take last breaths for ages
just wanting so enthusiastically to be there…
I know no love not selfless;
No love that can’t meet death unshaken…
I know no love without phenomenal outcomes,
no love that actually ends…
I know no love that merely lasts
but love that creates instances of glorious eternity
I know no love that doesn’t hold Heaven.
I know no love that can’t.
* dedicated to my grandfather Pio Espineda
December 4, 1930 – September 11, 2013
and to all who love *
Wake up in breathless mourning glory
Cheat and blame the skies
Turn your back on the stunning light before you
Drift off and die.
The devil shows you a tease
So you go on and pry
Pretending it won’t hurt more to stain more
So you build up the gallows of your head with lies
Take the gray off the ashes
And let them burn again-
This is your foul way of love
Will anyone get it right?
I’m counting days until I’m next to you
If I stop for a second I’d have to time forever again
I’m not fond of the need to be near you
For they mean having to be far from all else…
There’s a price to be paid for each sacrifice
Thank God I don’t take this like a businessman…
I dread the day I’ll be kissing you
While I don’t know who I am…
My heart says sorry…
My spirit is angry…
There’s just too much repression
Brewing up all the agony…
…Of being happy.
I haven’t stopped trying to preserve who I was…
But when I look at this image upon my wrist
I know everything counts
And I can not be someone who’s far without who I was…
I love you too much…
I love else as much…
None can have it all!
I belong with you.
Will not bury any castles
Or be dragged by pessimists who don’t know they are;
Instead, as a vigilant Christian,
Must expel demons that diminish
The effectivity of communication among people
Of course, do all these with
The help of Christ, in His Light
And for Love, who is God.
Pain gives us a sense of what matters.
Never miss this light and never
Act on the emotion but act on the Light.
Have you ever seen or heard
Or felt or ever known
A deeper soul than one that has settled
Its confounded passions for diversities?
While favorites are fine,
How would you know that there are better things
In Life if you have shut your
Ears exclusive to one genre of Music?
I will not bother to try
To understand why you don’t…
No, I won’t…
I am sorry that you will never feel
What I feel over melodies that ache
For suicide that one can not commit
For the music’s just too good to die on…
I am sorry that you will never know
What makes me dance a jingling jive
Or a cold and clinging ballet…
Or what notes engulf my heart in sweet contemplation…
While screaming seems like noise
One day you’ll find yourself soothed by its serenity
And remember we, who traveled the world
With our ears on the folks, so merrily…
…As you laughed
While we ignore your mockery…
And as you limited Life
While we marveled in its serendipity
Even your idols have taken such identities
As part of themselves so the whole world connects…
Your self-drawn boundaries make you
Predictable and detrimental to sense.
So I will not bother to try
To understand why you don’t…
No, I won’t…
Ennui is offspring to a fool and his continuity
They make such a horrid family
Casualty to awareness
Blasphemy through silence.
I am not heartsick.
I am not broken-hearted.
I am shattered.
It is my being that’s broken
When my heart was made whole…
Kings and cowards are both men
Not all men are kings
But all men are cowards to
Drastic emotional change
And muses veil corrections assaultingly
With the knives that glare off stabbing eyes
Blindedly perceiving pain
Upon the splattered truth from instinct acted on
And so sweet lovers err…
And so sweet lovers die…
“the circular, colored curtain of the eye….”
From its opening, the pupil takes form…
Through it, the light that enters, regulates…
Everything’s made to be broken.
I am deaf to the song of fools
Yet I find no wise man’s rebuke….
Perhaps I am called to take his place….
You may close those shutters on your face
But I will pass through,
paint scenarios in your cerebellum,
[hypothalamus on overdrive] can I?
I want to be the air that crawls and sneaks upon your every cell,
first touch of your first air exhaled,
….and all next!
I will not stop,
making myself comfortable in this
pounding mass of life,
I’m welcome I know….
So you may put a closure on those lashed feats,
I’ll still get through,
magnified in deep,
[sigh] I hope you are not sober for the reason I am not toxic
but high though I am not a drug.
Also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com