I am on a bridge and down below
People passing by, the ones we used to know
I’d like to say goodbye
And I had called a name but no one heard
Sounds just like the noise of people talking words
I’d love to say a prayer
For all those that flew and all who wish to
Golden gates
Look far from here
A peaceful view
From up above
And can you hear their voices calling your name?
I am on the ground and now I’ve seen
The choice to stay or go does not belong to me
I’d love to say hello
Blech.
I see you.
Blinders on,
verses underlined;
who do you think you are?
There is no paradigm.
His definition is a lack thereof.
You’re lost.
Don’t pity.
Prelude by Richard Aldington
HOW could I love you more?
I would give upEven that beauty I have loved too well
That I might love you better.
Alas, how poor the gifts that lovers give—
I can but give you of my flesh and strength,
I can but give you these few passing days
And passionate words that, since our speech began,
All lovers whisper in all ladies’ ears.
I try to think of some one lovely gift
No lover yet in all the world has found;
I think: If the cold sombre gods
Were hot with love as I am
Could they not endow you with a star
And fix bright youth for ever in your limbs?
Could they not give you all things that I lack?
You should have loved a god; I am but dust.
Yet no god loves as loves this poor frail dust.
Her Name Here
I’m no poet.
How can I describe her eyes?
Where are the words to tell of her touch?
No. God has not made language to tell of this (witnessed) artistry.
I toil in regret.
Better than the last
Volcano
Beck
