Monday, February 28, 2005

Sonnets, old to young


The breath of lions fills the silent air.
I see the plains, the Sun without the sky.
And feel the grass that hides the Lionís lie:
That art from nature canít be made so fair.
He hunts the prey that donít know he is there:
The weaker beasts who know theyíre soon to die
When spotted by his hungry amber eye.
A thousand yards away they feel his stare.
Iím sitting on the cold and barren floor
Iím kept away from view, and out of light
And as I wander through the open door
A flash across the plains appears in flight
The Lion runs with claws and bony core,
Throughout the day, and gone alone, the night



I love to sleep beneath my willow tree
While black silk ribbons slink through scars and gashes
Absorbing thoughts, the dream expands and smashes
With slumber what waking I won’t bring eyes to see.
My weary bones, seduced by darkness, flee
With years passed by, the dreams remain as flashes
Of days spent writhing under willow lashes.
Each pregnant pause of sleep brings peace to me.
But sons of midnight break and challenge logic.
The bloody ribbons flow across my face
Displaying pain when demons like to frolic.
Tomorrow is today, no sleep can pace
This hunger heaving refuse dry and cholic.
I stay awake, alone in my embrace.



My love long dead, with grief at night I still walk
Down darkened streets familliar to my feet
When voices choose no other time to meet
Each word with poison feeds the next we talk.
Though shoeless, hopeless, wordless, I stalk
The Void my mind makes grass although it's concrete
I masticate the words my mind makes meat
To choke in silence while the neighbors gawk.
Take it from me, nobody wants to share
This legions of voices that lingers inside;
Those that know nothing have nothing to bless.
Everyone reading who knows me, beware
If you choose to listen, and in me abide,
My pain still rules my cold and clingy caress.

All uncited material on this page is copyright Thomas Jackson 2005

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