Again our Bohemian Winter, draggin' that line 'till Spring
tradin' on yesterday's 'morrow, ridin' some Sentient Wing
Lovin' and leavin' in Season, teasin' Transcendent True
seekin' for Virtuous Reason, an Ancient Race are you
And in a flash, one that seemed to flash back and forth, in and out, accompanied by an incessant high pitched squeal which alternated from harmony to horror, Roland Dion made the most significant journey of all mankind - September 21st, 2051 - back-slipping, falling as if being deflected off of covered balconies after jumping from a high rise building. Then, almost as soon as it began, Roland hit bottom.
How great are those most vivid of our dreams - those that seem to touch our very waking lives and leave us all the better for the day - such was the state Roland was in as he awoke, swinging at the air and grasping for that which
Oh Woman! I love thee
As all men should do,
Be nigh on ninety
Or nay yet but two
Thy Spirit within thee
Elegant and true,
Makes thee more mighty
Than naught I may do
Your study and toil
'Tis admirable too,
Yet your best effort in time
Is put silently thru
It is we you inspire
In all that you do
Inspiration of the charmed life,
the talented ease which charges
the blissfull naive, so seemingly secure
To constantly re-invent, the time
I have spent, the me I have spent
Thoughts sent to the firmament,
Time always spent
The days pass careless to our
considered designs, that ever-blessed
One answer which is wrought through
them all so seemingly sure,
perplexing demur
What is the worth of self introspection,
what should we ask of the old parsee?
Life gives not it's answers on demand
Experience and knowledge must
be hand in hand, and though we try
and try, it be not ours to reason why
Seldom should the wise fain
In days obscure, a lofty demur
hangs low o'er the thoughts of the muse
What must come by twos,
delightful blues and half seen hues
of a brighter day before
With each day's energy spent comes a new song,
a tiresome lament; phrases languid,
emotions bent
Yet beyond the tired hill
that is an insurmountable will,
some days left are brighter surely still
Unto the new,
if such can be
Ever young, forever free,
never so happy as we're going to be!
As the stars decorate the sky
And ever mingle with thine eye,
As sunshine holds the earth
And moonshine kisseth sea,
As mountains share the heavens,
That I wouldst share with thee
Nothing in nature is single
Whence is one shall there be two
Truest thoughts of one
Fain alway return to you
See the river run to the sea,
And waves entwined in blue
I fall on bended knee
In hope our one shall maketh two
If sunshine holde the earth,
Mountains share the heavens,
And moonshine kiss the sea -
What are all these kisses worth
Till you've bestow'd your kiss to me?
It's a great day sail away tranquil sea of blue
For thinking thoughts, forget-me-nots original anew
Indelibile commendable delectable and true
Foundational sensational
All for one of you
On a magic night, a wondrous sight
Bedazzling angel's view
In sweet-soft tones, the beauty's shown
As none save heaven may imbue
Enchanting and entrancing, ever cheerful too
Beautiful celestial ever and anon, unto
A charming disarming calm of radiance ensue
Oh, how this could only be
All but one of you
TIME 'TIS BUT SHORT TO BEHOLD SUCH CENTERFOLD MANIFOLD
YET TRANSITORY AND SEMITONE SIMPERINGS
OF A DISINGENUOUS HEART
THERE BE LITTLE NEED FOR THESE STAND ALONE TELEPHONE
SELDOM CITED INTERTONES
OF A PERVASIVELY DULL DISMAY
DELIVERED IN AN OUTCAST OVER CLASSED DOWNBEAT WAY
SOME DICTAPHONE BARITONE SELF SMITTEN
HALFWIT DIPSHIT DELEGATE OF NOT ALONE
IT'S A HEADLINE CENTER LINE QUININE
BOTTOM LINE THRICE SPLINED
HEADLONG ADDRESS OF SHOE SHINE DURESS
IN AN OFF WAY LONG DAY GONE AWAY
NIGHT STAY HOLIDAY OF THOUGHT
THESE UNSOUGHT NOT BOUGHT CAMELOT
DREAMS OF SUBMISSIVE SUBLIMINALLY
SUBLIME HALF SPENT BUCKSHOT
'TIS BUT THE ENDGAME OF
Again our Bohemian Winter, draggin' that line 'till Spring
tradin' on yesterday's 'morrow, ridin' some Sentient Wing
Lovin' and leavin' in Season, teasin' Transcendent True
seekin' for Virtuous Reason, an Ancient Race are you
To the limitless search
the man is bound
The endless goal
that's never found
Thru years, and ages
past pages of old
The long, solemn strife
that is a lofty and
burdened life,
shall retain it's hold
a thousand fold
over this, our hapless
wanderer
Tho self pity be in short supply,
does the man yet wonder why
he has been unwittingly
burdened so
As he yet again draws his curtain
the one thing certain is the
incessant march of time
Time but slowly unfolds
the mystery she holds,
But to the man the price is his life
Yet, what is the price of one man's stri
A natural session, life's basic lesson
Life abounds, life is rain
Again and again,
it returns to pour down all over me
All I see is sound
Sounds of confusion,
giant contusion
What a grand illusion are we.
Bliss is scarce
Joy is cheap
The eye is the center, and the center is everything.
Who's business is it? Noones, and everyone's.
The meaning of life is the meaning of the soul.
What is the meaning of the soul?
The soul is the center, surrounded by the
universe, and the universe was made by it.
Where shall we find the boundaries of the heavens?
Where we find the boundaries of the eye, which
is boundless.
Why all the madness?
There will always be opposites of any force.
Why is there evil?
Because there is good.
Why is there good?
Because there is evil.
Why is there love?
It is in the nature of the soul.
Who must we answer to?
Ourselves; noone is fooled i
take me to hidden island, land i knew before
where the old man lived in the house he built,
atop it's sandy shore.
return me to a summer's day,
all will sure be there again,
in the land i knew before.
it ain't the beach of white,
the sway of the palm,
the minnow's nibble at my feet.
it's the little old man with his
time worn tan that i would like to meet.
alas, time marched on the life was spent,
he went up to the firmament.
the house torn down, dock was flattened,
better i did not know just what had happened
in the land i knew before.
nineteen years now sets me apart,
from this man and from his heart.
such is life, i cannot
The World churns the driving flame as it burns
Circles in the fields of the Mind.
Low in our field of Thought there are no
Rings to behold, only fire.
Yet above the fog and confusion, beyond all
Illusion we see the circles well,
And they burn.
Welcome to DA, what shall we find today?
Artists, writers, thinkers and singers,
Poets by the Way
All so different, yet all the same
The one goal held by all,
Under many a varied name
We want to be heard,
We want to be seen, to be anything
Other than a simple cog
In a rusty machine
We wish to share, to compare, to
Dare others inside our various lives
In the thought that we are different
When it comes down to it,
I'm not so sure, as I find myself
In this perplexing demur
Perhaps if I share this silly
Burden I bear, I may find my own
Answer, Out There, some where!
Another day's useless energy spent,
and once again, I sit back and lament
over time, more or less lost,
people rush by, at such a cost.
From where they come, to where they go,
what does it matter? It's all a show.
The true of heart, the pure of soul,
how do you find them, how do you know?
The blind drive on, the money piles higher
to fuel the beast, their funeral pyre.
Have we reached the point
of no return?
Who's to say
we all must burn?
The ashes of others are all around,
all that's left of their stately crowns.
To truly live is to have but one goal,
to feed your soul.
Here it is, the nature of
The old day draws ever near, as "Nevermore" quotes the Raven.
No more shall these darkened halls cast their dread shadow,
no more the wanton, wicked one, my son.
This day is done.
Behold, as the trolls stoke their coals in the dead sea of emotion,
how the red dawn emerges despite their petty and sniveling surges of
yesterday's dismay.
The old day for the newly dead shall come at last.
So stop and take shelter from the emptiness of this growing storm,
something new and magnificent is sure to soon take form.
Follow your foolish feet to your very own liar's seat and stay!
You'll know it on sight, fight or flight you will not do,
for
Destroying to create,
Creating to propogate,
Striving to validate
what lies within
What lies within lies without,
A heavy certainty is devout,
A new idol for an old way
As each day dawns anew,
The question ever confronts you,
To be or not to be, cliche
To answer the question
Is to live the day,
For this question shall remain
And not until these indifferent
days have lived and died, and lived again
shall this awful thing seem plain
Life is.
Life is a series of fleeting moments.
Life is a sandcastle buried by the tide.
Life is caring enough to build it again.
We go day by day,
Unseeing, uncaring,
Not knowing what we have,
Until it's gone, and then.
Then we see,
Then we care.
Life is helping the weak ones.
The weak ones give up.
They see their failure and say,
"I have failed, as I am destined to do.
The world will not let me succeed."
Life is being the strong one.
The strong one rebuilds,
He sees his failure and says.
"I have failed, but I will not fail again."
God spilt his wine in the sky tonight,
The crystal broke off into shards,
liquor streaks the horizon tonight.
And the glass illuminates stars.
A child found daddies pistol tonight,
A trigger pulled back with her thumb,
Cacophony filled the air tonight,
As her blood drained out like rum.
My doctor resides on the streets tonight,
His nose brushed against a line.
Electric punch is his thirst tonight,
For his medication he is enshrined.
The angels are carving notches tonight,
They're changing silk sheets to their cloud.
Temptation will be a threshold tonight.
As lust is a protective shroud.
God spilt his wine in the sky tonight
I'm bringing Oscar back
-yeah-
you decadents just don't know how to act
-yeah-
you're hiding all your sins behind your back
-yeah-
don't turn around and trust me with that fact
-yeah-
Take it to the book!
Dorian Gray,
You see these shackles, baby
I'm your slave.
You stabbed your portrait when you misbehaved,
and you make everybody feel this way
-take em to the chorus-
Come to the club
-Go Oscy go with it-
smoke opium
-go Oscy go with it-
or cigarettes?
-go Oscy go with it-
Bloody marionettes!
-go Oscy go with it-
let me see who you're sexing with
-go Oscy go with it-
Look at those lips...
-go Osc
Destroying to create,
Creating to propogate,
Striving to validate
what lies within
What lies within lies without,
A heavy certainty is devout,
A new idol for an old way
As each day dawns anew,
The question ever confronts you,
To be or not to be, cliche
To answer the question
Is to live the day,
For this question shall remain
And not until these indifferent
days have lived and died, and lived again
shall this awful thing seem plain
Posted on the MySpace -
Believe I've reached the conclusion that all those in the past are to be left there, as providence has seen fit to place them. My efforts are best applied toward the current and the new. And perhaps it may be better still to not try at all.
So much of people seem to amount to little else than a collection of walking impulses, addictions, instincts, reactions and desires. I don't think it is easy for such a statement to come across in anything other than a negative manner, and yet I know this to be so; my life's experience has borne it out before me, why continue trading for cents on the dollar? Let them find me, els
Anyone who knows me by anything resembling a reasonable degree of familiarity is aware that I write. Now, awareness in and of itself fails to secure appreciation, and why should it, a dying art leaking here and there from such a scattered old relic as myself.
Among my painfully voluminous breadth of self-dictated circular nonsense exists what is now the better part of sixteen years' journal material. Yeah. Over the past couple years I've undertaken to compile all that noise into one contiguous thread, incorporating correspondence, commentaries, poems, whatever. Some of this stuff is, needless to say, unpleasant to revisit. Such a p
So, I'm sitting here thinking about life in general again, in respect to our interaction (or meaningful lack thereof) with others. I was trying to decide if it is in fact every bit as much the unforgiveable shame that at the moment it seems to be, how so many of us dance around each other and more importantly dance around our own selves, unable to make any real substantive connection with the meaningful and true for months, years, lifetimes at a span.
I decided on impulse to type the simple phrase "who thinks anymore" into the "google" search box, and the answer from the "world wide web" was, well:
- DJ DeeKay Presents...: "Anybody who th