Thursday, September 25, 2008

bloody good poem this:

Come Wraith
By Raven

And no one ever intimated
I would remain the victim of lunacy

long after the moon had released me

My lips are alternating patterns of
tidal motion

ridged with time

I fall hard between the lines sometimes
the letters above and below

leaving me no where to go
winding away in that slanted scrawl of yours

The Moon
ebbing as she does

Come wraith
dance with me beneath the scarred surface
of my fingers
within the thickening skin
we find something tangible

copper blood
for a bronzed kiss

The Moon
bulging again at last
her demure allure
gleams reflected

You avert your eyes
when my laughter reaches shrill

I know love
you will come to me in the still colour
of fable

perhaps after dinner
we can seek the answers

I wish to slick my flesh with
your indolent touch

My wants
are but particles caught
in the Moons soft beamed siren song

And you knew
I would become
didn't you?

Come wraith
laugh with me as we sip from sacrifice
and allow the chalice to topple

spilling moonlight over

the fine hairs striving
for sun
the tender sound of
fare thee well

My changes
aligned to the phases

And sometimes
its enough


Blogger Chris Never said...

Now you see

reading this makes me scratch my head and wonder where I am missing the mark with that other poem.

Its the control thing, you have to release control to write this sort of thing, it soars in its own song.

I think the more you evolve, the more control you exert, the less it can sing....



4:08 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

I try not to write with control. Control is for editing afterwards, not for writing.

For writing you need to let go and soar. That's why it feels so nice. I think that's the part you can't teach to people. You either have it or you don't.

4:31 PM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

I have it


at others I am like that Paul Simon lyric

all my words come back to me
like emptiness and mediocrity

Poetry is a curse in many ways

gods blessing in others.

4:55 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

maybe a poem is when angels whisper in your ear?

5:28 PM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

Don't get me started on the whole

poetry - God connection

I do believe it is a holy thing

the epiphany of words

I love how you phrase things like that, very cool

5:36 PM  

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