Black Lake Poetry

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silt and stillness

Angel says that

The wilderness is on fire

And that they are casting

Smooth water coloured stones

To the flames

Cresting

In the trees



I say they are planes Angel

(Water bombers)

And that it is just water

Not stones

Don’t you know?



Angel says

She.. wishes, she, could have decorated my past

That the leaves on the trees

Could be me, and that she

Wishes that, she, was the wind

Back then..



I say

I am still a bit frightened around shadows

You know

And that stillness

I fought

When I knew

The worlds would end



Then I thanked her for faith

And I thanked her for red clay

And I moulded a harp for her

And weaved balsam boughs

To shelter her apparition

From the rains

Then when I thought I cried Inside

She said

That the teardrops were only me

And that she

Was really just the rain

And that

Shelters

Are not really

Good for Angels

And that the rain

Would eventually wash away

All of the clay

And then it would

All come around again

In a different way

G. N. Saville

Occurrences that Hurt

And the dream occurring

Is sleeping

And its burdens

Lay on his chest

And He has never felt

A nightmare like this



Long slender fingers

Playing his mind

And the fires flames

Are rising

He reaches for his silence

But silence, had ,never,

Felt like that



And the dream occurring

Is rising

And untangling

And running

And flying

It is

Moving from sleep

And as



The shadows

Are taking turns

Laughing

At the trembling

In his mind

He reaches for the hurt.



And the dream occurring

Is hurting

And he has never

Felt silence

Like that...

Inspired by the words of Clance






They are simplicity
Unobtrusively
Uttered so silently
That they barely etch the pages
Of their parchment
So worn at the edges
Weathered and uprooted
And
Distanced from deception


They are truth


Humbleness and strength
And honesty reverberating
Then escaping into
A soft endless echo


They are a freedom

That can be heard

And felt

In ways

That becomes

You…

They are a connection
Of
Pragmatism and Mysticism
A secluded concentration of
Infinity

Endless
Endless

Peace


This is ivy







This is just Ivy
And it will never hurt
It will bring merriment

This hue of green
This shiny sheen

It’s a placebo for your pueblo
It’s heaven for you
We have disguised it nicely
For you
So that it will never
Hurt you
Please worship it
With dignity
And use it freely

It is pleasantly useable

This hue of green
This shiny sheen

Do not worry
It is pretty
It will never ever
Harm you
Oh my
This is really happy
This is so scrupulously right
Right down to the last deity
We were told to believe in

And he walked down a gravel road
And the gravel became diamonds
Under the light of his lantern
And his feet became calloused
And his heart numb
As the fuel for his lantern burned

Then he walked down a gravel road
Using the disparity of greens
As a rule for guidance between
The sky and the tree line

We all walk that way
There is no difference here

Down Feathers





Cloud

Please come down

With your rain

Lighten this forest

Allow

The ground

A moon.



A light

Of the suns reflection

Or a vision

Of it's shadow on fire}



And



May we all

Believe in our neighbours God

Awhile



Walking

All, ways, away, from it all

To wonder why

We are the same, and to

Wonder why, there is no difference

Under our reflection?



Holding on to a Mannequin



I have become more like my muse
In every movement towards
Loneliness and depression


And I always
Knew
She would be
Waiting
In her parallel world

I have become more like my muse
In every step towards
Truth and transgression

And

She said, it is a combination
Of all that, and is like, what is wrong”
Then she rose
Grasping for her meaning

I have become more like my muse
And all I have wondered
From outside clouds

And

Their shapes can be lovely
And daunting
And that truth
Is fleeting
And that truth is waiting

I love watching
Their reflection
As they move
Shade
While sleeping
In the wind

I kneel and pray
That I may
Return someday

But reality
Still finds
Its loneliness

I have become
More like my muse
And I am ready
And waiting
For her reflection
And I am waiting
For her
To breathe






How do you feel tonight

How do you feel
Tonight
Singing
Glory to God

Wrapped in ribbons
From plastic starlight
Watching all that gold
Pour from evergreens

Just now
Some mothers baby…
Can you feel that?
A baby dying

It is a cruel world
And life is just like that
Let us toast that
Then toss the glass

Into the softness
Of a timber wolf’s paw print

The frozen flower
In the still life there
Could not possibly feel that

Like all those frozen tears
That, once, were, masterpieces from God

And
How do you feel
About that

Tonight

How do you feel
About life


Self

She danced in this world
She danced from its womb
And voices
Wrapped her in song

Compliant creation
How has she done you wrong?

You aint no magician
You cannot fly
You cannot cry
Like she does
All alone

How do you polish simplicity?
With what you wish?
When you are just


It dances in this world
And will dance from its womb
And the voices will
Wrap it in song

While you sleep
Like she can
Can you leave your mind?
Are you Poet Enough?
To fly

From Love?

She said it would return
That memory you feel

It has walls
It has pictures
And colour
That hurts

It is the saddest wonder I know
And all those memories
Are happening now

So pray for reason
Pray for freedom
And pray for the dreams
That hide that truth

It is not that complicated
It is not that way at all
You can see Angels from there
And watch the highest of waves
Fall


And you will never know
That it was your soul

stray candles

I guess I could wrap it in ribbons
I could let the paper find it there
When it reached you
Starlight is so hard to send
You know
The kind that waltzes
Above this world

It’s got me dancing into circles
Under a truly, perfect, purple, moon
And breathing the air
I guess I could wish it for you
Under that falling star

They appear too soon
Sometimes though
Sometimes
They make you cry

I guess I could make some Angels
Too
Take some pictures to send you
And pretend
I am
Sipping cider with you
Watching the Angels cover the snow

It is gentle breezes you know
That matter most
It’s moving
Thought around









July 2010
M T W T F S S
June 2010August 2010
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