Thursday, September 18, 2008
My Garbage Poetry: Love is Just A Word
Between lovat and Lovecraft,
The plaid garb maker; with a horror undertaker.
Love comes in muted tones; and exuberant utterances.
At times, unconditional –
under the only condition we can't give into.
When we fall in Love –
it take our eyes,
and twists them in knots.
The cure is: to never think a lot.
It spins our head, our body, our loins to passions unbelieved –
It drowns itself in sorrow, and thinks of make believe.
When between Lourdes and an a Love Song by Eliot
The tomb has cures; the writer – wishes on his mind.
As we pass through, this time, this enchanted faith-filled evening
We find Love is just not a word, but a world – our senses are reeling.
The meaning of such a word takes on profoundly tender passions –
To win love, we search the seas, mountains, the very air we breath.
Only to discover: that it can not be...
Between an Apex and a Zenith, two celestial bodies can be in the same.
They inhabit a moment of pure joy; the culmination of the game.
But is not a game –
Tender hearts, with wispy words, bring love down to nothing.
For to just say, “Love,” is meaningless.
But to love again – – is more than just a word.
I'll tell you more when you tell me yours. ;)
Patience, grasshopper. You must use the force. Nothing MacGyver couldn't solve... My new bag: to make lives better through their health, their mindset. It's new, but we should always look for new. Take a gander there at Bringin' Gas & Dialin' 9: A Seven Score Addiction to the National Pastime. Writing is just about the only thing one can do to live on permanently - buildings will crumble, pictures can fade, memories blur before we know it, but words can remain visible, and understandable, long after we pass from this mortal coil. (That's why that Socrates guy still gets play!) So that's my story. Create your new story!