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*a black heart drowning in euphoria*

Posts tagged “solitude

Beyond the Noise

Zandvoort

There’s no comfort for my chosen solitude
In a crowd where I don’t seem forlorn…
Sunshine’s not my friend in Winter
When my heart and soul breaks torn…
Beyond the noise, although I feel the peace,
I also feel the grimmer breeze…
I’ve tweaked my brains to make myself believe
That I don’t have everything I need…

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To Hover Above

Tips

Often, I feel like crashing into the sun when I forget
That I can just hover above the clouds…
Then I return to reality to gaze upon the beauty from where I stand….
And see all these that make the world go round…
Good and bad, through which all good can be made…
There’s no bad thing that can’t transcend to something good,
And there’s no good thing that can result to bad…
And when they say that hate had sprung from Love,
I say hate was always hate, or there was never love…

Often, I have felt, that I’ve just strayed into the moon
When I’ve forgotten that I could… hover above the stars…
Then I return to reality to gaze beyond the beauty in where I stand….
And understand why must the world go round…


Dunes

(A collaboration with Conrad Garcia)

Indistinct in the twilight,
The veiled bride moon.
Tales of rabid white lies
Whisper howls on the freezing desert plain;
Skies stripped of their stars, arousing handicapped sighs
That sometimes touch the infinity of sands
And wail through storms that peril no man
For no man was here—
Patiently the vultures drool
While much stranger things contemplate their kills.
Do the winds even know they can make or break the Earth;
Their tenacious movements so restless, refined in plains of aridity?
And oh… what else do they carry
Aside from a mass of emptiness
To proliferate that of the cold, retreating night?
There’s nothing to break so –
Some slacks come around the way of the scorpion
Far from what throbs and aches for their venom;
The dessert eagle glares, casting
On a detached carapace, the scowl of a rising flame.
And still, no man is here.
Spirits wail from where…
Valleys of disenchantment tell stories of fleeting passersby
Thorned and torn by the old worlds
Craven to the unfamiliar, spiteful to the new.