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oldephebe
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and the man said you have the woul of a poet i've been told that many many times they don't know what it costs though women bat their eyes and blush and men are astonished at the depth of feelings my little carraige of bone and skin are able to evoke in them but it costs a lot my soul burns my heart is well a little weak it's not hard enough it's not bold enough it doesn it care enough at this point i want to i want to care i really wanted to after so many times of having love of seeing a persons affections decay and turnb to hostility or indifferance after experiencing that over nad over again in ones life it's just you feel like turning to smoke no bitterness no resentment i wish i could be that hard i wish i could rally bac i wish my heart could change its clothes its mind its note but i keep looking back at eyes that once followed me with such affection such adoration eyes that gushes a radiant smile a mouth that parted so easily and now eyes furrowed with an imperious glower the brow furrowed in contempt or a dismissive kind of disgust i've been rendered to nothing more than an unwelcome inconvenience the mouth that makes and made such glorious music now twisted into a smirk or a series of undulating hostile line, frozen finally into this heart piercing grimace of disgust you are not welcome it seems to say you wound my eyes and my life by your very presence we need to forget you that you EVER got so close that we Ever LET you get so close leaking your pathetic pure poetic or so called poetic posture of heart whatever it was that emanated out of your soul or heart or whatever it was it is unwelcome now let flowers accept your love as your tears rain upon the petals keep your pain hidden and i try but i must not resent or become bitter hell we don't care if you do or not just keep your tired crying soul away from us and i ask how does one hide it the pillar of sorrow ignited into flame ten thousand tears drying and piling high within you one thought ignites the pillar of salt and it burns forever inside you how do hide the sound and flare of a fire speaking to itself? ---------------------------------------- her smile became part of my reason for worship at the alter her smile and gods grace to see Christs face and her iridescent eyes wide and set upon the Lords Favor in my and out of my depths flowed no lust or carnal desire no adulterous or fornicative want or need it truly was like basking in the virgin mothers beatific glory it's strange isn't it how the heart can turn everything back to god and then as is the nature of all transient things sooner or later how can such a thing so beautiful become so hostile by my living breath i ask has my very life my presence my bowed body wandering into the radius of her lovely eyes line of sight has that become such a burden now am what i am, or was become such a grotesquery? what is it that i've done or said is it merely that i am alive is it merely my presence that evokes this hostiliy? a poets soul it is the living seal of destruction there's no more left in me to die to harden to push down there's no more room so much has been pushed down and denied and melted away there's nothing left to harden there's nothing more that i want just to be perfectly empty and drawn drawn pulled somehow soon pulled into the realm of perfect seraphic joy ... 060118 ... oE soul not woul 060118 ... oldephebe and then i say what a self-indulgent self pitying smorgasborge of adolescent whining why have i been given this bleeding, eviscerated beating thing this heart that trembles violently and cries out in a loud voice at the slightest trigger O Bess me Father and wrap your heart around me! kill me with your sword and place your bow as my headstone. i said this to my sorrow. if we are to be transfigured by our suffering then let this be then the hour of my departure to close the open and bitter well and then cupid i've never known him not to want to watch me die in agony with his own eyes so seal the open and bitter well this drink it is dry and hollow harsh inebriate it scalds the tongue and throat and yet i keep raising the cup to my lips even though it leaves a burning circle in my stomach i keep walking down damnations road even as my sorrows pursue me i pursue them christ let judas betrayal pave the road for him to calvary he let it open up open him to surrender and to find no value in his own actions but to see the value in being drawn closer to gods heart by his own dying his own suffering he was given a vision he was transfigured out of an emotional and spiritual state that could have yielded resentment and a sense of betrayal and anger but instead he let himself be beautifully broken so that the balm would issue forth out of him ... 060119 ... oldephebe when you make someone your muse you give them them the power of life and death over you the poets soul is clawed or caressed or sent into rapture by the sounds of the notes the sounds behind the words but this kind of deification puts an unrealistic expectation and responsibility upon someone who never aspired to it or wanted it or even asked for it what do they really owe you but the aspect of themself they honestly or willingly show you? but thier true nature? what can they possibly Be to anyone but when and where and who THEY are on thier road. Build your road back to calvary even if you have to awaken in the middle of winter and walk in bare feet to the way of the cross upon the snow to relieve the suffering of your lapsed soul that languishes and writhes and seeps into dead things that belong buried in a burned out cemetary ... so no the poets soul is not an easy thing to bear but pray i pray that i can learn to bear it more silently with dignity with a holy kind of suffering that enobles the soul and that this tender thing struck pierced so violently that thrusts itself into its death bed can emerge from the night realizing His presence His life reincarnated in Us that is the work of the cross that is the reward that is with Him that is the other side of worship that is the blessed sacrement of our suffering the other side of sorrow ...
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060120
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