three blue candles in a row
where she knew she shouldn’t go
in a room of closed desire
smoke now circles ever higher
lying thoughtlessly has crept
promises have not been kept
but she does not care somehow
in the feeling she has now
for the burning justifies
broken vows and sequent lies
as she bobs her pliant head
three blue candles by the bed
The widsom that I seek seems out of reach.
The sun sets on the standing stones.
The clouds, the moon, the stars still move in track.
The widsom that I seek seems out of reach,
And questioners and doubters, still catch flack
Especially from those who pose as questioners.
These hunt down searchers with great indignation:
Returning then to palaces of folly
In orgasms of self-congratulation
Flawed —
That’s a word we use when we’ve carelessly destroyed things.
We empty our emotional shelves, and
Clean out the closet of our memories,
But carefully retain our excuses, because
Those are the ultimate image filter.
And one more time, it’s about what was:
And the next what-is that’s about to become what-was —
But that’s what happens when you’re “flawed”:
You strip the beds down,
You strip the house down,
But you sure as hell
Aren’t stripping yourself down
pretend again for me
pretend again for you
it didn’t need to end
the false can still be true
the days before the the lies were known
they form a sort of schism;
we’re trapped within the colored bars
that constitute
our prism
[it’s all pretend… owen]
I promised her the hills and sky,
I promised her all this —
But one small word of truth means more
Than worlds of
Hollowness
[Originally published 12-17-2015]
The winter highway calls me home
To where my love lies sleeping;
For I have carried secrets long,
Far past their time for keeping
The many roads I’ve driven on
Are fading, as the light
Comes timid with the nascent dawn;
I see an end to night
How many habits must I break?
How many lies be spoken?
The time is now for me to take
And fix all that I’ve broken
The winter highway calls me home
To where my love lies sleeping;
For I have carried secrets long,
Far past their time for keeping
Now, seeming self-assured
We disappear, immured;
‘Mid walls that hold the toxins from
Which we cannot be cured
A world kept under wraps:
Each hidden lie and lapse —
For much we think we want, we dont,
And castles can
Be traps
