"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."
~ Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms



"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey sequence of bumping into's and tumblings apart."
~ Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet



Friday, August 17, 2012

The Black Rose...


There are no more words
I want to bleed
All over the world
Shedding my life

To be free from this preposterous paralysis
Of unending moments of inchoate drudgery
A life without meaning is not life


Rather a masquerade for death
Life no longer sings to me
The melody has been lost in the fray of pain
Without love there are no questions
Beauty is obliterated in the rain of melancholia
She walks in the dim light of morning where I use to live
Amongst the lilies of desire
Her eyes black as the desert rose of Africa
Body disfigured by noonday demons she limps and crawls








Making love she cries
Alone in crimson salt stained sheets











Through the window of time
She stares
Beauty whimpers her words
The last words
Words I thought were no more
She pleads with me to go and bleed






I have no comfort for you
My arms are cold and my touch frigid









We are to be alone
In birth and death
Twin unbidden fates
Time between them horror and burden


Go
Go
Go
Go


Words are death to beauty
With a gasp she blows out the candle of flickering doubt


Vanished
Now
Is
The
Light


Only the black rose remains


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