Litkicks Message Board Archive

MEDIUM RARE-WELL DONE

Posted to Poetry




The bell chimes dischordance
sounding in accordance with
my dissonant soul
has left vibrations moling coldly
through the soils
of my sorrow
clanging now
through to my tommorrows
bone marrow
where I promise myself release
through the portion of me
penned here in
loose leaf lucidity
but why put off til tommorrow
the peace of mind that can be had today
turning restlessness into rest
instead of attempting to best my instincts insistance
for
now is when this arrow is at its sharpest point
for the targets of your ears
for all must be made clear
in these my times of unclarity
to those ears lent by my countrymen
and women
to whom I am offering
payment in common sense
my thoughts worth of copper cents
and blood scented bouquets laid long to rest
on the coffined breast of my past transgressions
brought forward now as confessions
while I convey the
sways and fervours
the alarm bell clamours
that have been sheltered blind and shaking
nervously beneath the layers upon layers upon layers
of subterrainian clays
making me who I am NOT today
too quick to play the eject button on
the tracks you lay down to challenge me
for as soon as directness meets my hearing
as soon as your truth looms in the clearing in my mind
I choose blind eyes
over the breakthrough
from me to you to me to you
and when truth looms
it weaves to reveal a fine patterned life line
carpet sceneted with wine and roses
and crimes of god given unexposed precious ideas
that were not gilted gold and gifted for just one to see
you see
I only keep what I have by giving it away
and the day
this day has come and gone and come again
I do not want anymore to merely skim the suface
a cheap flint skipping stone slipping over the purpose that this paper was given me
or to simply sear the outer edges hedging the depths of our connection
only cooking it medium rare

I want it to be well done

there is a gift I want to give you
a present I want to live through
a here and now to adhere til now becomes past
now becomes past
now becomes past so fast that in the time it takes to say it
it's already become yesterdays news
leaving only alterations of viewpoints via our connection in its wake
and this is what we pray for.

I am frightened on a daily level
that the devil has played me the fool
in the school room of my existence
where I am fear frozen not moving through
the buildings filling to bust with must read
and live and be subjects and philosophies needed to expand my
foundation built on sand to one made of stone
words/thoughts/people that I cannot see to read
in this universe city
because the devil I speak of is the bully in me who lurks in my hallways
keeping my learning curve at bay from bending bow forward and playing
the songs that I don't know
his insistance that I maintain the distance stance of superficiality
is his/my specialty
and in this case
what I don't know
who I don't know
does hurt me
in this blissless chosen ignorance of one dimensionality
see
this gift I want to give you in this present I want to live through
is to be without the staccatto bravado
formerly known as me
with my appearance as a shield
and a blade wielded to stike down any potential conversationality
if we look past
the external body mass and see in and through to the true pure me and you
then I can break fast
from my steadfast limited point of view
and congregate with you.

THUNDERING WORD HEARD