*
TOTAL LISTENING SILENCE
*
Someone who listens totally
knows that even a simple
clarification question
can disturb the
reflection
as water waves fragment
the sun’s image on a mirroring lake
*
-saiom shriver-
The saddest eyes in a world of gray
Full of hurt, and the weakest strength
Windows to a tortured brain
Courting madness to look sane
I see the darkness around your face
That you try to hide away
You've lost the will to live again
Subject to recurring pain
The wrinkles flow around your features
Like roiled and cracked imprints of creatures
Growing old while in your prime
Extenuate the charm of time
The mouth is small and bares it's teeth
Silent when it ought to speak
Chewing when it ought to stay
Cursing the good days away
Stepping back
Now I see
It's simply a mirror
Reflecting me...
Your deceit has polluted the rivers near your villages.
The very rivers that its people rely on for drinking water.
A sip of that poison ignites a plague that turns friends into foes and kin into fugitives.
But where is the antidote? Why do your people continue to fall ill?
It is locked away along with the fortune you made from the production of your deceit.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
I’ve been away for a long time to know why I’ve been wrong before.
I had beat a dead horse and gave CPR to two that had cancer.
I should have known that it was not worth it if the doctors were not going to help treat it.
I was an ignoramus. They have all the knowledge that the world had to offer.
So why not share it with the ambitious and give new life to these once noble steeds?
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
I long reminisced about a time when the doors were open to tons of villagers with potential.
It was a world that I wanted to be a part of since I was a guppy not yet exposed to mathematics.
A potato infected by a blight and stabbed me warned me that the chief doctors were monsters.
A poor surgeon who tried repeatedly to receive a raise vanished, was slandered, and never seen again.
A coordinator found a shady message in her contract that forbade arbitration and fled to another kingdom.
And I recently heard that the one coquettish nurse was expelled over scrutiny from her personal life.
Why, Dr. Kim? Why do you egg your personnel to choose sides when there are lives that need rescuing?
Can’t we all get along and lay down our weapons? It’s easier to negotiate than to wage war, but no.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
People lose their minds when they fall in love. It’s not just me. It’s a fact of life.
I lost mine to a mongrel who shut me out after a few months and lied directly to my face.
A good friend that I had regretfully wronged had given the doctors the deceit that tainted the rivers.
A clever herbalist that craves drama knows how to brew tainted water to make it appear crystal clear.
Not everyone knows that making up stories to sweep malpractice under the rug is a gold mine.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
The coachman that brought me to this place can call me a whiny little boy if his mood fits.
Just like the kid who offered sage advice to the chief doctors on how to break down barriers.
But that judges the coachman's character more than mine.
It’s an fyi that looks terrible just because he’s wearing it.
But hey, why bother listening to advice that’s more expensive than one’s pride?
The doctors’ salaries are too low for them to spare a dime to make that change.
That’s why there’s never room for improvement nor for sharing in their greedy hearts.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
I am terribly sorry that your folks never taught you that what goes around comes around.
That your hidden crimes will come back to bite you when you too become penniless.
When you one day get a taste of your own poison when you drink the river you tainted.
What does your life have in store for you afterwards? Can you sleep at night again?
Will people still care when the doctors go their separate ways? What about the pollution in the river?
I will not return to the filth you created to clean it because in the end, the deceit would be even worse.
To change your practice for the better was my greatest wish until I found out how unethical you are.
Now it is to build a fortune of my own so the artist that my heart beats for can have a bite to eat.
That is the change that you will never see because you are too comfortable smoking the dough you baked.
Money is one heck of a stimulant.
If seconds lead to hours,
And hours such daylight thrall,
Why Sun give in to minutes,
And have viracous hour's call?
If we forget, do then moments arise, lead to oft sunset's fall?
Sometimes to look to moments,
Such embers of passage past,
For forward looking arrows,
But in past such arrows cast.
For Embers are so empty space, of voids such sparks once grew.
But now just echo of distance, and past, such arrows sure once drew.
In past such unknown of errors,
with unforseen sight no sound,
Drown in such embers,
Drown in truth but known,
Drown in redacted tones.
But let me know such instance,
Of instant kettled noise,
And success is such not so ordered,
No menued item crown.
We see in futures,
And hope for better such lifting embrace,
Because past is such no anchor,
But anchored to no caste.
Lets fly, and swirl, in air of stars, and sea of dreams,
Where no bound of circus tricks can reach us,
And bound by no riverbed banks of streams.
Into light we will guide and be blinded,
Such blind to silence for vision,
So we can see all moments for true,
So touched by moments hue,
Past dreaming is for heroes,
In those dreams of hero,
I choose you.
I am not a pretty crier
you say that
because when I cry
here
I hold back
I fucking
hold back
internalize
I fucking-
hey-
don’t stand so close-
you might come down
with me-
I don’t open
I am locked
without a key
I am lost
without a compass
and no one is finding me
in this forest
there is nowhere I can go
where no one will see me hit the wall
and so now I remember
how lonely I really am
I am not good at being alone
and yet they tell me
it is my greatest talent
where does that put me?
Lying in the darkness
My pen will find
The whiteness of the paper
With my eyes closed.
These black scribbles
Are meaningless nothings
That fill the silence of the page
With beautiful noise
A head so cloudy
Overfilled with hopes
And the worries of last night
With more to come tomorrow
Lying in plumes
Of grey smoke that float
Up to my ceiling. Like clouds
With less tears to rain
These black thoughts
Are meaningful everythings
That fill the noisiness of my mind
With beautiful distractions
A mind so heavy
Way too full with worries
And more and more that just keep on
Coming and coming. My
Heart wants to know
When it will all just
Stop.
Surrounded with good postured grass and newly fallen leaves
My eyes soak up sparkling dew and lungs rejoice with the breeze
My private haven, with bright greens and sunshine gold’s
A place where my imagination can soar, and beauty is bold
This magnificent meadow, with vibrant colors and rich smells
Every strand of dark green grass has a story to tell
My admiration, my escape, this secluded refuge serves
My gaze is set on climbing trees, with their out stretched arms that curve
This caring defense, of plump bushes and soaring trees
Save me from the outside world, yet lets me be free
I watch the graceful decent, of an autumn leaf,
Flow to a calm bed of grass, which lie beneath
I peer upon a family of rocks, caught between day and night
Relaxing in the Earths cool soil, yet bathe in deep sunlight
These fluid thoughts, abetted by the breeze
A place, my place; my mind set free
*
TOTAL LISTENING SILENCE
*
Someone who listens totally
knows that even a simple
clarification question
can disturb the
reflection
as water waves fragment
the sun’s image on a mirroring lake
*
-saiom shriver-
Hearing the rumbling beats, sweet melody,
To rescue from now into past remedy,
Favorite song of ages gone, play again,
Inspiring words back into the pen.
Your song may sound different to old ears,
Hearing more than before other years,
It is a sweet embrace of memories,
To sweep away current daily worries.
Never is there a song loved by all,
No such mark that everyone is enthralled,
There is the meaning and irony now,
For such work, brilliance, take a graceful bow,
But know the importance of what follows,
Step out of the distorted, dark, shadows,
And know that there is no such ideal song,
To be anything else than you is wrong,
Free yourself from the false advertisements,
Impossibly great goals are punishments,
To songs so beautiful that only need,
To be their own favorite songs, please heed:
Matters not if you are a favorite song,
Only that you are your own favorite song.
I was a distillery once
Extracting aesthetics and experiences
Some who tasted thought the distillates were sweet
So distinct
And some thought it was too inflammable
But for me it grew toxic
And I abandoned my spirits for another place
Where am I now
What do I do
I am no longer a distillery
The grounds were sold to a different owner
And he tore down my distillery
Pays me in cartridges every month
Besides those I am on a raw diet
I love the wholesome taste of fibrous thoughts
They take their time to pass through
And leach out some of my heat
Someday I will find an engine to plug in to
That produces for people besides me
Till then I must decide
How will I remember my distillery