Facsimiles of Fortuitousness

Supine aciculate,

Shedding predilections over sentient epicenters,

Strychnine serenade,

Ushering in a dawn of density before a decentralized acropolis

Relegating potentate,

Lauding the sanctimonious hymns of byzantine tomorrows

Morose and incontinent,

The Aeronaut bleeds septets of inquisition from deep within

  

Conjugations repositioned,

Transmigrating into delicate Hyperboles of distraction

A Toreador amidst an otherwise hyped-up insubordinate,

Emancipates every proclamation of thoroughfare ever spun

Seeking the Longview…

     In the center of a sandstorm,

              Is never easier done than said

A Song for a Valkyrie

listen to ‘Valkyrie’ on Audioboo

You'll notice that the recording only covers a portion of the song, as it appears here. The reason for this is the program I use to record, has a 3 minute recording limit, and instead of recording this song/poem in two parts, I simply choice to omit many of the similar sounding choruses from the recording here, as I feel the pacing, tempo and rhythm are illustrated clearly in the instances I did record, which you can easily apply to the unrecorded portions, as you read along.

As A young man I made

Many a dire plan

To find an angel

Who’d take me from a life

I no longer wished to live

Racing, I made my way

To what, I deemed

a final resting place

It was here, where she first came to me

Grabbing hold my hand and arm, she

So easily disarmed the pain which grew inside

Granting me the comfort there, to see the truth behind the lies

In her embrace, within her grasp

I knew she would ne’er deceive

Even knowing this, I knew, her

caress could never last

And as her gaze began to shy apart from my own

she whispered what I most desperately had to know

Four words were then bestowed unto me

Four words, to forever alter, all I’d hear, all I’d ever see 

“ It’s not your time”

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

For years I’d think in dream

Of how she appeared to me

Simple it is, to recall, how I’d felt

Enrapt, aglow, her love, alive within this altered shell

This time though was long since past

And many suns and moons had elapsed

I’d grown old

And looking back

I now realized, that without her appearing then

None of this would ever be,

The lifetime of love we shared entwined

Gone, with all the rest my memories

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

But today I understand

No one can predict the fate of man,

No one knows how or why,

When it will first start

Or where it will find its end 

And that is why I die today

It’s my time; I accept, I must

there is no rhyme; there is no reason why

Let faith be strong; I must entrust

That one day she’d return for me

In a light that’s forever long

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

An angel cried

Ay ay ay ay

From the sky

She saved my life

Fading quick

And there she stood

Still looking every bit the memory

She held me tight, easing concern

I knew what next must come to pass

This much, I knew I’d earned

Ay ay ay ay

Up high

The sky grows wide

Ay ay ay

Ay ay ay ay

On her wings

We would fly

Ay ay ay

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

On her wings

we shall fly

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

Way up high,

In the sky,

On Her wings,

We will fly

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

To Valhalla

We shall ride

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

Past the sky

We’ll soon fly

On wings

Of Val-chi-rye

Life begins again

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

On wings we ride

Up past the sky

To Valhalla’s gates

We’ll soon pass through

Val-chi-rye

Val-chi-rye

In valhall

I’ll soon be at home with you
 
Linked up to D'Verse for Open Link Night, where the mic's always live, and the joint's always packed, with poets each part this globe. Claudia is tending the bar tonight.  Be sure to stop on by, take in some great poetry and while you're there, perhaps inspiration will strike, and you'll share one of your own as well.

For All The Kings of Wanton Realms

clarity amongst the spackled shale—arrives

rattled, riven—as tenets forcibly flash before

simmering currents far from home—dreamt about, yet left alone—

where endless mirrors span amongst the golden bedrock—

that is, until, the eyes opened—once again carving reality—frozen in unkempt status and other sordid scatterings—a reminder, of the chaotic surplus owned by few; and those detrimental demons—the apparent contagions designated in the discarded view—of which, ironically, comprise the largest populous of the two.

the mirage, the oasis, seeping through pavement cracks—

crackling dismay through annexed thought—of soda-colored undertows and yet another night alone—beneath a shelter of stars; beside the lullabies of sounding vermin—scurrying competitively—for the tarnished or divine—for whatever’s left to find—for something, anything, helps prolong the fight   

but only the forked pitch tongue survives—thus the adaptability of the protector’s disguise—the only thing—aside from thought and dream—making movement possible.

…and diadems are pronounced,

for the newest king of another

wanton realm

My Blessed Valentine

My blessed valentine,

You are of my blood

Yet you are composed

From different strains,

Uniqueness, some would say,

Peculiarity, others may flavor,

But you are my finest hour,

The moment I cradled you between my arms,

Such delicate fabric,

Knowing nothing but trust,

The constructs of fear and mistrust

Have yet to enter the matrix of her brain,

No connection to reality

She floats and move as if she’s floating,

Ignoring the air surrounding,

For this wearied and tiresome

Straggler through the trail of life,

This little pumpkin has sprouted and reignited

A passion, a flower blooms now

All with the voiceless mission to watch this stem develop

Into the flower she will achieve someday,

For a man so down swung, commiserated with anger and strife

She’s the magic potion sent to up lift a once proud, yet currently deflated life.