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.


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.

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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