Oh Love,
My summer muse
And blooming desire,
How I have longed
For you,
And placed my
Naked heart
Under
This simmering Sun—
So much so,
That the ruthless
Heat has wrought it
Wrinkled,
Barren,
And Hard.
As fair
and
Square.
Time contends
Duality
Over
Blunt equality—
The Loved
And
The Beloved
Rarely take
The same
Seat.
“However strong Dylan Lokensgard’s yearning to fit in, to win acceptance, to love and to be loved, he could not defeat the unseen forces which direct behavior.
In the struggle between our desire to determine who and what we will be, and the identity which biology defines for us, there can only be one outcome.
But even in victory, there are forces biology cannot defeat—the stirrings of the soul; the mysteries of desire; the simple truth that the heart wants, what the heart wants.”
— Scully’s Monologue, Lord of the Flies, X Files.
In the face of defeat and adversity, have you falsely convinced yourself much too stern?
Turning a blind eye to sentimentality, are you truly the strong, or merely the broken and the lost, disguising themselves behind the bloated exterior of strict functionality? Mixed in with a few splashes of angst and fury?
Are you sick to death, of having tenderness, your mighty strength, mistaken for cowardice & gullibility? So much so, that in effort to avert it, that you have lost yourself in rigidness?
What are you really afraid of, feeling constantly exposed, or eventually turning irrevocably numb?
.
.
.
In the light of recent events, I have perhaps appealed too much to stiffness, and forgot that tears, during special occasions, are necessary. The rain comes down with all its inconveniences, but it causes the desert to bloom again.
Yes,
I walk in a blindfold,
Most days
I do not save
What’s Right from foul.
And
I work in the Dark,
So my Callings
Never grow strong.
I am merely
A creature of stubborn habits,
Destroying the body
All year round.
But
Please
Turn your back not.
As bare are these flaws,
Deformed is this bag
Of brittle bones
That scantly moves along—
Oh my Kin,
Brother and Sister,
Have Faith in me,
For my Compassion sits
Like an endless Well.
If thirst shall befall,
I will not
Let you down.
Confide in my Embrace,
Oh Love,
For I only write
Of Tenderness & Hope
In your song—
My affection is
A stream that runs
Forever long.
Won’t you see,
Swimming Bird?
You have
Gotten me
All wrong.
How often do you pause to conclude and reexamine? Ignorance is bliss, but it is just as miserable—what sorrow one must unknowingly live through, not making introspects at all?
It’s for you; it’s for me; it’s for them: the key phrase here is “at all.”
Days flow by and leave like the breeze, so barely palpable that one is left unsure—did the days, seemingly consumed, really exist at all?
You see your days slip past the deceivingly narrow gaps between your clumsy fingers—how does it feel, to have control yet none at all?
Amidst eager desires, did you inadvertently neglect being upright and functional?
That’s how it happens, you, seized and trapped by the anticipation of it all, so much so, that what unwinds leave you no satisfaction at all. Always on the lookout, seeking to gain in the future, and the future is no longer yours, but then merely a prolonged nuisance that cause you to furrow your brows.
I’ve been
Catching
Dark Flies within—
Won’t you
Stay your
Welcome?
The You
So near
But nowhere found,
I am
Scrubbing
The Outside
To A
Shimmer—
Hoping
The Glare
Will bring
You
Around.
You see yourself
Bend and break
Into a million pieces—
Your dreams and aspirations
Deep in trenches—
For moments,
You begin to witness
Your withering:
A gradual,
Irrevocable decease
Of the once
Vastly immense
Well—
From which
Rose your strength;
Sets of spines
For
The Heavy load.
You see it,
This indefinite
Blackening
Of
The Sun—
The last breath
Of air
Escaping your lungs.
But
Do bite
Your
Tongue—
You may just
Forget
This dark void
And live
To See
Another Dawn.
You are not sure if it’s the full moon tonight, or there is simply something menacing in the air for all to breathe it in and exhale out their abounding miseries—
Blaming nature: the heat, the cold, the snow, the rain, the storms, the floods, the moon, and the sun; it’s the safest way to go. They are larger than life, so you won’t have to sound small and human by attributing the tragedy to other individuals.
All is said so there is nothing left to say. You kindly but unwillingly let them have their victories; in the end, it’s all irrelevant to you as to who gets in the last word.
You
Just
Cannot
Believe
Why
It
Must
Be
So
Difficult.
In life, we plan and plan; neglecting the haunting thought of sweet death and no tomorrow.
All is temporary
Yet no one
Dares
To
Believe in
The possibility—
Of
Provisional desire
Manifesting
Beautifully into
An Indestructible Endless.
Bring me the Truth,
Truth
Like naked bones
Of the Dead—
Now
Foul and ghastly, but
In time
Factual and harmless.
So
Toss and Slam and Shove
The Truth
To me,
Blinding and caustic
It might
Presently be,
But spared I will be
From eternal
Sorrows—
Invoked by the
Fleeting, empty smile
And the briefly comforting
Lies
You wear
And tell
So well.
Particular Moments 