On Voices One Only Dreams Of

-- Eliot, Frost, Hass, Butterworth --

I’m not one of them
But I want to be.
Here I am among them,
Yet I’m so far away.
Their words pound over me
Drowning me in their brilliance
Almost too much to bear –
I hold my breath, waiting
Waiting for that moment
When I won’t have to go back
Won’t have to meet with
My inadequacies.
Won’t have to hope that I too can say so much
Won’t have to be
Me.
Wont have – to be.
I want to break through the surface
And come back up again,
Because it hurts so much being battered
And I can barely breath and
My head – my heart – is filled to bursting and
There are so many things I think
They might come rushing out of me in torrents
Raising primeval forests black and brilliant – but,
Emerging, spews forth from me
Not Golden-tongued Glories
But coughs and sputterings,
Violent vomitings from a soul,
Sick at heart,
Discordant,
Dry heaving. Dead.
Life pounded out by poets.

"We are only falsehood..."

I wont stay here, you know, I said.
But here I am.
Here begging to leave, yet unwilling to go.
I wont ever go, you know, I said.
But there I go.
There hating the darkness, yet unwilling to see.
I wont fail, you know, I said.
But down I fall.
Here lying on the ground, confused.
What happened, do you know? I said.
But I dont know.
Cant see it here in the darkness
Here on the ground
There in my heart
Cant see it.

"The Road to Awe"

Burst bubbles
Broaden horizons
Hurting horrendously
But bringing
Brazen Life;
Liberating like
Swelling symphonies
Tearing to
Terrible bits
But Ah! Building
Such sweet
Sounds that
The thousand
Parts pound
Parched Souls
With water
Wrought from
Flaming Fountains
Sparkling Springs
Shining dark --
Dreams,
Crying, copper
Coated, for
Fortune, Friend,
Love, Life,
Light, Magic,
Magnificent
Meaning.