Dialogue 2

I want friendship, not lust
        oh. you’ll be cured of that soon enough
but will my heart be unfaithful?
        not when you’ve been kept up all night
        by the worry of her plight
but will I think of others?
        depends on how you choose
how will I choose?
        with free will and predestination as your guide
        believe in good destiny
        so you can choose what is right

Dialogue

"Silence
— don’t want to hear those sirens,
for those who leapt for violence,
whose fate caught up with tyrants,
of those who ‘llowed its finance:
silence us."

"You are so alike, my friends despondent
as the pagan world of beauties fades
you long for something you fear is lost
and feel the winter of discontent closing in.
— You draw on your cigarette
like a man who keeps waking himself up
lest he should fall asleep."

"We look the same to you, through your myopic lens
you speak and we shudder
you read aloud from dead letters that froze
people’s hearts ever since medieval times.
— The walls you build are a prison
they keep you locked in your mind,
like the division between good and bad."

"Yes, winter is coming, but the tyranny you see
is not from this house being built.
See, the wind is howling, and the light
from this stone house shines afar..
— Come, get inside, there’s tea to warm the heart,
and once winter subsides
you can go and play outside."

Second childhood, second birth

you fall back
into the bed whence you came

how can you stay faithful
how can you be to blame

when you know not who is holding your hand
like a baby, but a baby is not in pain

her cries make you stronger, while yours
make you weaker still

it is the road you must travel
(as must all, in time)

give her grace, give us grace
to tread that last bridge lightly

let burdens drop

let ballast fall

let self remain and when called
make it across water wide

and let there be someone waiting
to take her hand on the other side

Universitas

Two decades of rain have
washed over the sandstone quad where
we searched for meaning in stars together

With teenage intensity of the soul
you talked of novels and fllms

and I tried to take it all in

In culture, girls (and bohemian vices), you were far ahead

where you had wit, I had pathos and burlesque

but we shuddered together at the thought of death

Björk danced in the dark
and I cried, stepping into the light
if only friendship could be mended

Like the tyres on a bike.

Ecclesiastes/Nausicaä

fight then -- for you hold the truth
fight in vain the cult of youth

fight then, fight with all your breath

til it chokes you, cult of death

fight then, fight the clouds above

fight with might the cult of love

til it spares you

til you drop

til you spare

your water spare

your last drop

caught between the eye

you see, I to I

flying towards you

your arms outspread

changing course

at last breath

you'd plead

for fighting, please, to stop

and lead

an army of beasts to stop

so, clear the air!

they clear the air

so clear, the air!

Catch

In the wind where you hid yourself
Were you ever scared for those

Who could not bear naked truth?

I turn;
By crescent's end it melts
The flutter of a light dress.

Elsewhere:
Justice and wisdom play
In the sand.

While you left,
Thumps of elephant legs
And lips of lead carried my gaze

But it was not met. Through doors
Of consciousness you fled.
I reached out but couldn't reach you.

Your net fell deep in air
Into bubbles of despair,
Tugging at me.

My greatest mistake,
Was to mistake you
For someone I had made.

For in the image of man
I longed for,
And sought to destroy:

You. Where there was life,
I saw towering doom
Built of dour, soggy stone.

While you hung inside,
I could not see past
All that was lost in me for good.

Meanwhile, under cover of fog,
Past promises became fulfilled
Like the proverbial mustard seed.

And so I grow.
(And so do they, under
March of time.)

Only time will tell
What into, only:
Let me not forget your face forever

Synchronicity

The clock moves forward
Strikes of code
Cyphers tales of
Old foretold

The carpets young their
Fringes meet
Who can tell which
Binds will keep

The scarab at the
Window taps
Chance of many
Ordained acts

Maybe it's too neat
Self conceit
To seek patterns
In noise-sea

The roaring lion
Is different
At his time I
Wait for him