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My genes didn’t bless me with the foresight of sage but I know how this ends
Created on 2004-02-10 15:44:20 (#2174687), last updated 2005-03-23
945 comments received, 1,818 comments posted
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130 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | lindsey |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 09-26 |
| Location: | austin, Texas, United States |
| Website: | http://www.emosaustin.com |
BioNothing’s so lucid as the promise of dreams, but these pills we found just make me sleep.
There’s nothing quite so pure as the written word my dear, so lets have ourselves a little poem.
Until the will to speak loses urgency.
Our animal indecency in print is so blasé.
Its about the bell tower, at the golden hour.
Angel of the spires climbs here steel cage staircase spine, angel of desire.
Ascend the wrought iron, one by one, wrung by wrung.
Is it the rising roof line that makes me feel so swallowed whole,
or the way my body barely pricks the sky,
the same as a century’s worth of virgin’s blood that’s passed through my longing veins,
scheming to convince my aching mind that pleasure’s got nothing on the miracle of need.
Nothing’s so purile as meter and rhyme when you can’t see the ground from that ledge
and this perch is so far, far from the nest.
Gravity doesn’t grant me the privilege of failure my bough never breaks
I don’t stumble into anything
So I climb and I carve my initials in the bark with that feather I found but it’s all so contrived.
My genes didn’t bless me with the foresight of a sage but I know how this will end,
in apologies and ink on the page.
A slowly constructed crow quilled confession of my spirit to all of you,
black waterproof ink scars the board, so hot-pressed, pristine and pure.
A slowly constructed manifestation of “to tremble”,
as base as a bridge in a song and less like the poem that I promised you.
Nothing’s so lurid as haiku-detat on sidewalks in white outlined chalk,
all I’ve got is this ink smeared lines.
With our voices in harmony, the offering, of a crow quilled threnody.
There’s nothing quite so pure as the written word my dear, so lets have ourselves a little poem.
Until the will to speak loses urgency.
Our animal indecency in print is so blasé.
Its about the bell tower, at the golden hour.
Angel of the spires climbs here steel cage staircase spine, angel of desire.
Ascend the wrought iron, one by one, wrung by wrung.
Is it the rising roof line that makes me feel so swallowed whole,
or the way my body barely pricks the sky,
the same as a century’s worth of virgin’s blood that’s passed through my longing veins,
scheming to convince my aching mind that pleasure’s got nothing on the miracle of need.
Nothing’s so purile as meter and rhyme when you can’t see the ground from that ledge
and this perch is so far, far from the nest.
Gravity doesn’t grant me the privilege of failure my bough never breaks
I don’t stumble into anything
So I climb and I carve my initials in the bark with that feather I found but it’s all so contrived.
My genes didn’t bless me with the foresight of a sage but I know how this will end,
in apologies and ink on the page.
A slowly constructed crow quilled confession of my spirit to all of you,
black waterproof ink scars the board, so hot-pressed, pristine and pure.
A slowly constructed manifestation of “to tremble”,
as base as a bridge in a song and less like the poem that I promised you.
Nothing’s so lurid as haiku-detat on sidewalks in white outlined chalk,
all I’ve got is this ink smeared lines.
With our voices in harmony, the offering, of a crow quilled threnody.
ConnectInterests (60):
a fall farewell, a static lullaby, american nightmare, anah aevia, as i lay dying, at all cost, autumns offereing, azure ray, bloody sunday, bury your dead, circle takes the square, comeback kid, converge, crestfallen, daughters, dead to fall, dillinger escape plan, evergreen terrace, every time i die, few left standing, forever is forgotten, from autumn to ashes, glass casket, hopes fall, if hope dies, in due time, living sacrafice, mortal treason, murder by death, nodes of ranvier, norma jean, northstar, on broken wings, photography, reflux, remembering never, robotic empire, scarlet, seventh star, shai halud, silence the epilouge, sinai beach, since by man, since the flood, symphony in peril, the agony scene, the bled, the chariot, the judas cradle, the locust, the postal service, the promise, the red chord, the sky between, thumbscrew, underoath, unearth, until the end, walls of jericho, with honor
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