Tuesday, September 15, 2009

The Measure of Crime (edited)

Ordinary questions seem trivial and boring.
My mind is a fish net tonight; dreams are blue as water.
Every morning a crow croaks horror.
And they are bringing us in for the slaughter.

There are voices on the hill that must be met,
Along the old twisted cunning streams.
Sometimes a light glows among the trees,
And I hear you whisper from your dreams.

Of madness and in hope.
The flickering dance of shadows.
The tunes of forgotten lore.
The gardener comes to sow your woes.

When I awake, I think of Edgar Allan Poe.
I see him walking around the grave.
His misery, your beauty and a question on life.
And I lose you in an ocean wave.

2 Comments:

Blogger The Dude said...

interesting.. you didnt tell me you were delving into poetry my boy... will have to come back and read them all more seriously!
but a first read, nice work as always, your flair for words and images travels nicely from literature to poetry I think.
cheers..

1:30 PM, September 19, 2009  
Blogger J said...

Thanks man, now I know you're not in the whole brevity thing, bit its always good to hear what you say. Cheers...

5:44 PM, September 19, 2009  

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