(excerpt from my perpetual inner romance dialogs)
TThe most beautiful radiance informs the fields which compose the beds upon which she lay the seasons of her dreams whilst musing vis a vis imponderable as violet spectra, celestial sojourn upon ( within) this supposed world of known.
A wreath of whispers fell trembling trails of 'Where has she gones'
As drowsy summery wells exhaled languid intimacies of wherewithal and what for, gradually changing into silken, jet-black falls dimensions sighing deep in damp midnight secrets. Seances were held and behold a breaths bounty exchanged with such are words.
Moments where leaves danced, weightless worlds blowing cooling consonants and holy vowels intoning snowflake sacraments were as spirits in rapt attendance, processional vanguard texts of nights pale palindrome. Lightly impervious to interpretation.
The staggering neurons of filament trees shadow,pixel camouflage branches, enclosures of deeper in and somewhere who? Light suspends from avoidances icicle brow studying the moment in a stasis of; {frozen fervor}.
Something exists
Lighter than air
Betwixt the mists
Dreamt in her hair
Lighter than Heaven rose
Higher than Ever's each
Further away so close
Wanting could never reach
Someone is silent there
Waiting in shadow's robe
Being everywhere
Lightning a spinning globe
Dreamt in her hair
Betwixt the mists
Lighter than air
Something exists
Perhaps they were only the ghosts of childhoods innocent, wicked world chanting bits of nursery rhyme chewing on the bare, bitter branches with icy saw teeth, shrilly intoning an arctic incorporeality.
L'
Lady of Thee Intangibles
makes her descent with a soundless tread
wearing address of curious thread
sewn in circular enamours
paramours find a floundering flight
stripping their minds the floods of moonlight
reveal the souls of ravenous animals
seeking scent of blood in each naked leaf
like reincarnations of ancient grief
as she ascends into heavenly parables
Wounds rupture, mend. Lady of Thee Intangibles*
The immeasurable aspect we may surmise
Constellations qua*tam discreet, discrete devise
What language motioned nor poor marker to inscribe
Broods of savage angles beating Euclidean wings beneath
My breath ¥ all names are murmured fevers salted anodynes
To rub the seas into my skin dissolves and flowering fingers
Grasp these fatal kisses of the Suns mercifully infernal embrace.
There are other eyes inside these eyes of our seeing
Pure mirrors, blessed by such Divinity,Vision's being.
Such-sacred hushed intonations circumscribing tablets on tables
Here we may dine amidst broken kingdoms of trees and frozen dust
Shining particles of perceived relativity composing our constellations
An awakening without end beginning, Ours,:
Something exists lighter than air
Betwixt the mists dreamt in her hair.
One is the unit with which the holy garment of Time is sewn
Light a silver needlepoint pulling threads of motion through
Fields of Violet Spectrum seeding visions the rain is due.
An aura of moment moves throughout the world
awaiting for the secret something never beheld
{ where am I an amusing host
often finding where I am lost}
I would see you there shining still through pages of the years that fell
Whilst I wander yet in fields of yore a luteus wreath encircling my breath
mirror, mirror of my will seeing deeper where are my keys, why they are here
to turn around the signs inside a lock of signature complex design
to keep the furor which like the sea contains some measures of obloquy
buried beneath the vaulted tiers of scintillating architectural refractory
interred in vestments soaked with stolen sacraments of sacrifice with rain
wound around the wound inside woven armaments on fire to kill again,
I live with terrors, beauties filled with rages, intoning my spell
I would see you there shining through pages of the years that fell
{often finding where I am lost
where am I an amusing host}
awaiting for the secret something, never beheld
An aura of moment moves throughout the world.
From the further corners of her eyes clouds came gathering
Soaking up all the tears of melancholy flora
Consummation of muted music of stone bruised souls gray, blue.
They went drowning into the declivities of their lives
Negative archipelagoes of want becoming desire unneeded
Holding the amputations of stolen hearts, clutching violet cups
Drinking of the wonders of the air until
Heaped upon prosthetic altars, gorgeous polymer deities
Arcane rites of simulacrum condescension, bolted and welded mind to flesh.
We have become inseparable in our discrete numbers
Invariably variable one combined with one, perfectly binary.
What an imponderable amount does appear; head, trunk limbs
Halo, numinous akimbo parameters qua*tam abode of expression.
Living creatures exist here quantifiable minute qualified beings
She is woven through the coded strands of programmable matter
Halo of irreducible violet nimbus, mystic quark read the lines.
Sometimes with a gently pulsing surge of inexorable power
Passing the threads of her fingers through the loops of your day.
We are not separate in the whole of our being, yet
She uses rivers to write our name on distant deserts
Radiant oases where untellable sums exchange figures without word.
Eventually returning to impetus origin cell vessel sail
Even the universe embryo contains such mercurial seas, the chart a hand.
Suppose an evening sky composed of a sea of just such hands
Every atom radiant violet and each impression repeating value
There is a face in shadowed profile above the rising moon
She descends sets of stairs (one is the number of Time)
o)
She is wearing the Sea, each violet drop a dissolving value.
Some are more precipitous than a veil transparent, sheer
You are draped over a rail of tumultuous dream estates
Omen
Reading and following, (or trying to) each and every sign
Appears to be disappearing into these fields of wordless thought.
They may be the signifiers of worlds manifest somewhat, (discrete variable.)
He observes her celestial beauty
as though an astronomer a galaxy seen from afar
by blazing mists of cloud obscured stars her light
somehow insists lovelier than any night
that cloaks the deeps of time I thought
occassionally I ought
Employ the art of word as a written telescope
To hang upon her every breath given enough rope,
You were an engine without apparent design without fail or foil
Rewriting theocratic chapters of nightmarish verse...burning all the pages
Of Light...cut to the darkness tearing violets fell...
Something happened to the rain it felt like shame...naked, dirty eyes
Saw you reaching for the arms...all lost limbs are broken oars...an empty sea moans
Branches, beaches...files of vengeful dollars screaming nameless words into nothing there,
Flies,wasting files of lives consumed consuming senseless dying things...
You were an engine without food, filled with the emptying sickness of Time,
Facsimiles of sentience...mute integers...static caught mindless strings of atomic code...
Poetry by Charles Lezine
Read 384 times
Written on 2012-01-30 at 23:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Encoded Strands Romance Words
TThe most beautiful radiance informs the fields which compose the beds upon which she lay the seasons of her dreams whilst musing vis a vis imponderable as violet spectra, celestial sojourn upon ( within) this supposed world of known.
A wreath of whispers fell trembling trails of 'Where has she gones'
As drowsy summery wells exhaled languid intimacies of wherewithal and what for, gradually changing into silken, jet-black falls dimensions sighing deep in damp midnight secrets. Seances were held and behold a breaths bounty exchanged with such are words.
Moments where leaves danced, weightless worlds blowing cooling consonants and holy vowels intoning snowflake sacraments were as spirits in rapt attendance, processional vanguard texts of nights pale palindrome. Lightly impervious to interpretation.
The staggering neurons of filament trees shadow,pixel camouflage branches, enclosures of deeper in and somewhere who? Light suspends from avoidances icicle brow studying the moment in a stasis of; {frozen fervor}.
Something exists
Lighter than air
Betwixt the mists
Dreamt in her hair
Lighter than Heaven rose
Higher than Ever's each
Further away so close
Wanting could never reach
Someone is silent there
Waiting in shadow's robe
Being everywhere
Lightning a spinning globe
Dreamt in her hair
Betwixt the mists
Lighter than air
Something exists
Perhaps they were only the ghosts of childhoods innocent, wicked world chanting bits of nursery rhyme chewing on the bare, bitter branches with icy saw teeth, shrilly intoning an arctic incorporeality.
L'
Lady of Thee Intangibles
makes her descent with a soundless tread
wearing address of curious thread
sewn in circular enamours
paramours find a floundering flight
stripping their minds the floods of moonlight
reveal the souls of ravenous animals
seeking scent of blood in each naked leaf
like reincarnations of ancient grief
as she ascends into heavenly parables
Wounds rupture, mend. Lady of Thee Intangibles*
The immeasurable aspect we may surmise
Constellations qua*tam discreet, discrete devise
What language motioned nor poor marker to inscribe
Broods of savage angles beating Euclidean wings beneath
My breath ¥ all names are murmured fevers salted anodynes
To rub the seas into my skin dissolves and flowering fingers
Grasp these fatal kisses of the Suns mercifully infernal embrace.
There are other eyes inside these eyes of our seeing
Pure mirrors, blessed by such Divinity,Vision's being.
Such-sacred hushed intonations circumscribing tablets on tables
Here we may dine amidst broken kingdoms of trees and frozen dust
Shining particles of perceived relativity composing our constellations
An awakening without end beginning, Ours,:
Something exists lighter than air
Betwixt the mists dreamt in her hair.
One is the unit with which the holy garment of Time is sewn
Light a silver needlepoint pulling threads of motion through
Fields of Violet Spectrum seeding visions the rain is due.
An aura of moment moves throughout the world
awaiting for the secret something never beheld
{ where am I an amusing host
often finding where I am lost}
I would see you there shining still through pages of the years that fell
Whilst I wander yet in fields of yore a luteus wreath encircling my breath
mirror, mirror of my will seeing deeper where are my keys, why they are here
to turn around the signs inside a lock of signature complex design
to keep the furor which like the sea contains some measures of obloquy
buried beneath the vaulted tiers of scintillating architectural refractory
interred in vestments soaked with stolen sacraments of sacrifice with rain
wound around the wound inside woven armaments on fire to kill again,
I live with terrors, beauties filled with rages, intoning my spell
I would see you there shining through pages of the years that fell
{often finding where I am lost
where am I an amusing host}
awaiting for the secret something, never beheld
An aura of moment moves throughout the world.
From the further corners of her eyes clouds came gathering
Soaking up all the tears of melancholy flora
Consummation of muted music of stone bruised souls gray, blue.
They went drowning into the declivities of their lives
Negative archipelagoes of want becoming desire unneeded
Holding the amputations of stolen hearts, clutching violet cups
Drinking of the wonders of the air until
Heaped upon prosthetic altars, gorgeous polymer deities
Arcane rites of simulacrum condescension, bolted and welded mind to flesh.
We have become inseparable in our discrete numbers
Invariably variable one combined with one, perfectly binary.
What an imponderable amount does appear; head, trunk limbs
Halo, numinous akimbo parameters qua*tam abode of expression.
Living creatures exist here quantifiable minute qualified beings
She is woven through the coded strands of programmable matter
Halo of irreducible violet nimbus, mystic quark read the lines.
Sometimes with a gently pulsing surge of inexorable power
Passing the threads of her fingers through the loops of your day.
We are not separate in the whole of our being, yet
She uses rivers to write our name on distant deserts
Radiant oases where untellable sums exchange figures without word.
Eventually returning to impetus origin cell vessel sail
Even the universe embryo contains such mercurial seas, the chart a hand.
Suppose an evening sky composed of a sea of just such hands
Every atom radiant violet and each impression repeating value
There is a face in shadowed profile above the rising moon
She descends sets of stairs (one is the number of Time)
o)
She is wearing the Sea, each violet drop a dissolving value.
Some are more precipitous than a veil transparent, sheer
You are draped over a rail of tumultuous dream estates
Omen
Reading and following, (or trying to) each and every sign
Appears to be disappearing into these fields of wordless thought.
They may be the signifiers of worlds manifest somewhat, (discrete variable.)
He observes her celestial beauty
as though an astronomer a galaxy seen from afar
by blazing mists of cloud obscured stars her light
somehow insists lovelier than any night
that cloaks the deeps of time I thought
occassionally I ought
Employ the art of word as a written telescope
To hang upon her every breath given enough rope,
You were an engine without apparent design without fail or foil
Rewriting theocratic chapters of nightmarish verse...burning all the pages
Of Light...cut to the darkness tearing violets fell...
Something happened to the rain it felt like shame...naked, dirty eyes
Saw you reaching for the arms...all lost limbs are broken oars...an empty sea moans
Branches, beaches...files of vengeful dollars screaming nameless words into nothing there,
Flies,wasting files of lives consumed consuming senseless dying things...
You were an engine without food, filled with the emptying sickness of Time,
Facsimiles of sentience...mute integers...static caught mindless strings of atomic code...
Poetry by Charles Lezine
Read 384 times
Written on 2012-01-30 at 23:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Texts |
by Charles LezineLatest textsClay Names: (in)Verse there always looking after |
Increase font
Decrease