Friday, February 17, 2012

"But deep, real deep"


"Mmmm, profound"

No equation
to explain the division of the senses
No sound to reflect
the radiance of time
In the beginningest dream
Halls of disorder
Where we are swept to encircle dawn
Strapped in a low car
Racing thru silence
Trumpeting bliss
You could kiss the world
goodbye

Standing outside the courthouse
in the rain
Seemed like a lost soul
from the chapel of dreams
With a handful of images
Faces of children
Phases of the moon
One little thing you get wrong
changes the dimensions
Streets, swept memory
Diffused and lost
Like a prayer in the sun

Sometimes you can't tell
whether you're waking up
or going to sleep
Spiralling
Unnumbered streets
All the games cannot be yours
All the sights, the treasures of the eye
Does the divided soul remain the same?
No equation to explain
Destiny's hand
Moved, by love
Drawn by the whispering shadows
Into the mathematics
of our desire

8 comments:

squib said...

That makes no sense

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

Poetry has to make sense?

squib said...

no, but that really makes no sense

Alex said...

Perhaps it could have used more maths references, and less ... everything else.

Mr E said...

no, but that really makes no sense

Agreed, but if you turn your monitor up really, really LOUD,(Brightness, Contrast and Saturation all on "11")
it's very much like being at a live YES gig during their "Tales from Topographic Oceans" period.

Hope this helps.

squib said...

oh yeah, thanks

Alex said...

Having given it a day's thought, I must say I'm surprised not to have seen "Our Future" featured in this week's poetry slam.

Oversight, Ramon?

Ramon Insertnamehere said...

I think I'll give that one a miss, thanks Alex.