Part I

Can you command my inspiration, oh Muse?
Can you take that misshapen dream,
mold it like a melting supple wax,
And bring forth a glowing demon,
so slow and unbending,
That I forget the reasons?

Do you see that serpentine fluttering creation,
can you fathom the caverns of the soul?
You listen and take in,
you witness and perceive,
Yet as you internalize those unbending wiles,
you waver, hasten, and die.

But those hidden fancies,
those forsaken dreams,
the internalized harpings
those gnarled trees;
Sing to me of an unawakened beauty,
Call to me of those jittering depths.

You could speak to me of the man,
You could forgive me for what I’ve done.
Forget my forsaken projects,
unlearn my hysterical ways!

Remember those fiery imaginings,
Witness the phoenix rising from my inspired remains.
Bury my body,
turn a deaf ear to my cries!
Don’t acknowledge my falsified demise,
Don’t listen to my mismanaged mind;
Pile those memories,
protect those words!

Lose them in my ever falling eyes.







Part II

You know my ways,
you hear my frantic whisperings.
I cannot speak in modern tongues,
I cannot speak in piercing falsetto.
To love and not to falsify,
to witness and not to judge.
Tell me of that long lost past,
speak to me of that unopened dream.

You rise high above those bending stalks,
you speak to me of wizened creations.
Tell me of those ancient stirrings,
Teach me of those unlearned paths.

Lift me high above those trees,
let me see those pure fresh landscapes.
Awaken in me nature’s heart,
teach me how to breath.