A long twisted and wildly strange saga unwinds itself for the beginning, searching back and past through, devastation, heartbreak, pure euphoria, love, and among the others floating crazily through my cloudy mind. Gently they sigh in rapt due amazement, to come of age in a dry place, in an apocalyptic world such as this, it's hard just to keep face. The harmony of a tone, rhythm based beat puts me into the groove, helpless and born to suffer, with music I am never alone. Sit down with me, I'll play you a song, rapture, and jovial warble, I'll abduct you into my sanctum, with music I am transparent, I am the harp of life singing his ghost song, with notes as my letters, and chords as my words, speech is meaningless, back going back in all directions, the spoken Jove is not my religion, my stutter like my constipations, I will abide tenant in my constructed mission. Watch me, admire me from afar, come to me, hold me, surround me, love me. Long lost and hard to find, your distint memories linger in thought, our warm soft bodies encircle, forever falling into the vortex of inclination, where are you? Searching blindly through the darkest cloud, groping fingers trying to find what is not there, the pestilence of sublime virtue, arbitrary and unaware, only choose to love, if you dare. Satisfy my soul, of all wrong, of wrung out conscious thought, of dreams, nightmares, and horror stories erotically tugging on a line of reason, none will help me out of this hole. The people will speak, silent in the morning, crouched muted in a corner, dorment I shall lay. My thoughts put on paper, reveal my inner memoir, feelings that I can concur, will show you my secret avatar. Alone, trapped in the construct of my mind, I have no friends, I have no confidence, impeded by the strengths of others, I will not rise. Sworn to be the imp, to be the vassal of everyday elation, confused, lost in the desolate realm of despair, why am I here? Light, iridescent relevation, looking through my new eyes, the world has just begun. Only if you could see, of past lies, infidel jesters, playing the chord of infinite beginnings, embracing me with praise, smiles, and open-hearted love. Of all forgotten moments, ringing like the ambient voices still casting their hope in my head, maybe I wasn't meant for this. The line of life has been beseeched, going back and back again to undercurrent thoughtless souls, left behind in the dust of my tracks, I know now what is to be reached. And while the stars and constellations have yet still to be proven to be, I am me. This poem was written with extreme care Finished on the First of October, 1996 By Steve Shea Words do not mean a thing at all, it's what is behind them.
Reason for writing:
i wanted to write it ;)
Birth sign: Not entered
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