''Folly''
Oracle-Salt Hymns
Oracle (Poems)
Part ONE - Salt Hymns
by K. Scott Smith
October 5Th, 2011
1).
Creating visions,
Sustaining these visions,
While maintaining ones body,
Ones mind, Ones teetering sanity,
Ones health,
For grand and lethal visions
That are as proud as they are deep
And as selfish as they are Nobel.
Stretching onus's divinity
to the very limits of animal capacity.
A mind open, honest and broken
Does seek the dances of forgotten Pagan Rhythms
That guide one into oblivion,
into experience
Into every magic and every mystery.
I Will not struggle against mortality
Nor Will I make life and death separate
All that lives, lives in me...
2).
Heartless harlots
and inconsistent Gypsies
Women of the water-
women of the stone-
Women set atop alters
Of wood and of bone.
Dreamed up cities
All crooked and bent into place,
Like Time collected in puddles,
falling then evaporating like rain...
Conjuring willful discretion's
And heavy burdens no other would bare-
to look back on-
to dare.
Hoisted upon a dreamed up figure,
Looming like the beginning of Winter
Over-baring-
Unreasonable-
Uncaring-
3).
Ringing seven bells
and the morning bled sound
as well and as thorough
as it bleed silence
silky, deep and dark.
This little place-
on Earth
is Hell
or worse
So, Keep your vision
and it's courses, It's brilliant changes,
its rushing wines, rums and Histories,
Keep your books and your poetry.
4),
This murderous heat
blood is already on fire
scared by the humidity
that is truly profound.
We'd forsaken our Schools
and tired Churches on Sundays
Oh, we went to those places a awhile
but we did not find Gods or Devils there.
I did not learn about that which moved my heart.
Oh how they slandered Poe-
As if his luck wasn't bad enough!
And Bradbury..
''Why'' I would ask.
I would demand-
no answers came.
So I set off,
and the trees and an ocean sky
gave me guidance,
The river gave long lectures,
It too seemed to repeat itself.
5).
Govern me with Rum
and fine speeches.
Tell me of travels abroad..
''Godspeed'', someone said.
No one had ever used that phrase
and I was overjoyed.
Mapmaker-
do you miss your other burdens,
and the silence of being unknown to the Muses?
Do you wish the Sea did not,
as each star , calls you by name?
Left alone would you go mad
or cling to dead fruits?
6).
Deepest Blue
and hinting of Gold
Of vast distances
And dreams to come.
Oh, yes...Dreams to come
7).
The ending isn't always unkind-
Do not worship it-
Do not deify it-
Do not hasten it's return.
8).
Oh, advance:
murderous, treacherous visions,
Stretches each moment, each horizon,
Blending and obscuring lines,
Making even stars into slaves.
A bookshelf-
Social commentary, Philosophy, Cinema as Art,
Classical Lit, Fiction, Historical fiction,
Psychology,
And countless other names to drop.
I have endured Suns of the purest radiance,
gracing my back and my face, my arms, (still strong),
I have endured cold winds and high cliffs,
I have endured the Sea,
I have endured myself.
9).I have listened to the sounds of late summer afternoon,
The smell of an old Ashville courthouse
I have swelled with each shadow,
watching as the very last of the Gold
sets atop tall trees,
until evening at last.
I have seen them in the shadows,
and even in the sun.
Follows me everywhere but the Sea.
Part ONE - Salt Hymns
by K. Scott Smith
October 5Th, 2011
1).
Creating visions,
Sustaining these visions,
While maintaining ones body,
Ones mind, Ones teetering sanity,
Ones health,
For grand and lethal visions
That are as proud as they are deep
And as selfish as they are Nobel.
Stretching onus's divinity
to the very limits of animal capacity.
A mind open, honest and broken
Does seek the dances of forgotten Pagan Rhythms
That guide one into oblivion,
into experience
Into every magic and every mystery.
I Will not struggle against mortality
Nor Will I make life and death separate
All that lives, lives in me...
2).
Heartless harlots
and inconsistent Gypsies
Women of the water-
women of the stone-
Women set atop alters
Of wood and of bone.
Dreamed up cities
All crooked and bent into place,
Like Time collected in puddles,
falling then evaporating like rain...
Conjuring willful discretion's
And heavy burdens no other would bare-
to look back on-
to dare.
Hoisted upon a dreamed up figure,
Looming like the beginning of Winter
Over-baring-
Unreasonable-
Uncaring-
3).
Ringing seven bells
and the morning bled sound
as well and as thorough
as it bleed silence
silky, deep and dark.
This little place-
on Earth
is Hell
or worse
So, Keep your vision
and it's courses, It's brilliant changes,
its rushing wines, rums and Histories,
Keep your books and your poetry.
4),
This murderous heat
blood is already on fire
scared by the humidity
that is truly profound.
We'd forsaken our Schools
and tired Churches on Sundays
Oh, we went to those places a awhile
but we did not find Gods or Devils there.
I did not learn about that which moved my heart.
Oh how they slandered Poe-
As if his luck wasn't bad enough!
And Bradbury..
''Why'' I would ask.
I would demand-
no answers came.
So I set off,
and the trees and an ocean sky
gave me guidance,
The river gave long lectures,
It too seemed to repeat itself.
5).
Govern me with Rum
and fine speeches.
Tell me of travels abroad..
''Godspeed'', someone said.
No one had ever used that phrase
and I was overjoyed.
Mapmaker-
do you miss your other burdens,
and the silence of being unknown to the Muses?
Do you wish the Sea did not,
as each star , calls you by name?
Left alone would you go mad
or cling to dead fruits?
6).
Deepest Blue
and hinting of Gold
Of vast distances
And dreams to come.
Oh, yes...Dreams to come
7).
The ending isn't always unkind-
Do not worship it-
Do not deify it-
Do not hasten it's return.
8).
Oh, advance:
murderous, treacherous visions,
Stretches each moment, each horizon,
Blending and obscuring lines,
Making even stars into slaves.
A bookshelf-
Social commentary, Philosophy, Cinema as Art,
Classical Lit, Fiction, Historical fiction,
Psychology,
And countless other names to drop.
I have endured Suns of the purest radiance,
gracing my back and my face, my arms, (still strong),
I have endured cold winds and high cliffs,
I have endured the Sea,
I have endured myself.
9).I have listened to the sounds of late summer afternoon,
The smell of an old Ashville courthouse
I have swelled with each shadow,
watching as the very last of the Gold
sets atop tall trees,
until evening at last.
I have seen them in the shadows,
and even in the sun.
Follows me everywhere but the Sea.
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Oracle-Salt Hymns
Oracle-Salt Hymns
