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Showing posts with the label Unspoken Truths

Faces of Beauty

the cruelty of beauty its appeal to greed lust its deity and obsession its breed the wit of beauty its bait unseen wile its ingenuity and skulduggery in between the poison of beauty its toxic grandeur hypnotic its vanity and overwhelming its splendor the frailty of beauty its withering tendency rotting in its hollow entity and demise its destiny Image: Carlos Schwabe, Fleurs-du-mal horloge , 1900

Odysseous Sense

  words beckon to me, nay-demand my attention they purl in paroxysm begging interview is it not true that we are a river destined to run an immutable course? what then is the purpose of purpose? an inclination to be apart from that which moulds us I search the heavens from my star apart and I am lost in the desert sands my arrival to wisdom was opportune for it began with ardor but it lies in squalor, untended and incomplete I hear the name in the echo of hollows a haunting whisper in the forlorn wind a wish from a world without, where like-tributaries splice subjugated in a metropol yonder silence holds my woe, perched on an eminence of privation my chains atug-wishing to board a barge to transverse this atlantean expanse the destination an abode long wished for whereupon dwells my odyssey's fair accolade photo by magnusvk http://www.flickr.com/photos/magnusvk/166233536/sizes/l/

Unforetold, Destined

which should I lend credence? the song in my head or the beating of the heart, for the path to choose in quest for answers, the puzzle of life is just a cryptic jumble, with no pieces fitting together I have lost my thread I cannot find my way back the grail I seek, eludes me in this labyrinth I know the words they sing in the head, with stubborn persistence but the tongue is tied to silence will the eye behold heaven, the angel of surreal dreams? will the hand touch silk, the warmth of delayed company? the die is not yet cast the forecast cannot come forth the cup is half full, it leaks equally with every pouring in the stillness of day, an expectation shall brew there will either be a storm, or a rainbow bathed in a gentle hush