Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Ischemia
A soul beleaguered with the army of god,
Their diaphanous wings brush me gently and
I feel a joy that is ephemeral.
Blinded by ethereal voices that sing out
Not praises but warnings, I let go of my
Fugacious ideas and concentrate on something more furtive.
They hold my hand, lift me up, and talk me down,
There is no gambol here, no harbingers
Singing random praise to the insouciant.
I wish to be a kid again, to stop the ugly with
Mellifluous words spoken ever so gracefully.
I do not want these adult ideals, I want to be
Small and ignorant, with a fist full of mondegreen.
My wishes are the blackest penumbra,
Sitting on my shoulders, wishing to take flight.
11-2-10
Their diaphanous wings brush me gently and
I feel a joy that is ephemeral.
Blinded by ethereal voices that sing out
Not praises but warnings, I let go of my
Fugacious ideas and concentrate on something more furtive.
They hold my hand, lift me up, and talk me down,
There is no gambol here, no harbingers
Singing random praise to the insouciant.
I wish to be a kid again, to stop the ugly with
Mellifluous words spoken ever so gracefully.
I do not want these adult ideals, I want to be
Small and ignorant, with a fist full of mondegreen.
My wishes are the blackest penumbra,
Sitting on my shoulders, wishing to take flight.
11-2-10
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Ischemia
Ischemia
