Gray Day

The Colors of Fall

marbleyes — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 15:15:46 +0000

Lovers and loathing
going to the edge
meeting cowards and crows
experiencing vertigo
with timeless and timing
going together like
growing old.
We’re overlooking
and never ending
a stones throw from home.

Lovers and loathing
going together
looking over the edge
unafraid to loose control
and letting gravity
become a stones clone.
Defying geology
and never growing old.
Loosing telemetry
like cowards and crows.
Finding an enemy
by throwing some stones.

Lovers and loathing
coming together
igniting a spark
saying I love her
and blowing apart.
Suffocating the connection,
introducing some disorder.
Age is all becoming
but time is no matter.
Corruption and destruction
just the foreplay of disaster.

My love and their loathing
born connected at the heart
neutral enemies from the start
now drowning in their blood
and all the dirty words of lust
dying but still trying
crawling to the edge
guided by their cowards
and their crows
inside them where they grow
weak and vulnerable
just a stones throw
I think I know.

My love
the edge
two emotions
no corruption
just the wind
and the mist
and the sky
and the thin air
and the rocks
and the birds
and my memory
and my pain
and my love
and I don’t care
and I’m not lying
because it’s come this far
and leaping over the edge
with her in my heart
would be a beautiful depart.

Burried in the sand

marbleyes — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 23:48:41 +0000

When the summer began
we were handed an empty glass
and told to poor until it’s full.
Back then we were overflowing
and everything was so simple.
All it took was a shake or a stir
and we could make everyone burn
like were were flammable and begging
for a spark.

When I look outside at night
memories sometimes cloud my eyes
it begins to blur my sight
and for a while I’m not alive
like I’m near the ocean floor
floating beside a decaying shipwreck
guided by a slow mellow current
under a single shimmering light
I can admire the towering wooden bars
that once contained it’s sails
that shadow a galloping horse
that still proudly adorns the bow
and the gold trim of a million small rings
strewn about the planks just in front of
the broken windows that surround the captains wheel.
still in tact
still turning west
as if someone has been standing, holding it here
all these years.
I’m dragged along its starboard side
flowing like it’s never been touched.
Leads me to where it all must have gone wrong.
It amazes me.
Among the soot and all the life of a thriving sea
lays the remains of an amazing tale
of seven brave men who fought their greatest enemy
and gave their lives to see it slayed.
one single falter brought them here
one solitary hole where it must have pierced.

The sun is rising again
it was a long, dark wait.
The clouds are clearing from my eyes
and all that’s left are memories
but how I see them now
is as if they’re still there
in front of me,
and we’re all dead,
but in on it, together, forever.
as the bravest
as the strongest
as the funniest
as the prettiest
as the smartest
as the loudest
as the strangest.
The best.

Watercolor Imagination

marbleyes — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 14:10:21 +0000

The sky turns pink sometimes.
It’s because they know we’re feeling a bit blue too.
So they shake things up a little
just to show they can sometimes loose the truth.
Like as humans we sometimes do.
But hanging all their colors out to dry is so rude…
The sun blushes red.
like us humans, when we’re shown the truth.

I bet you think this is about you.

Three letters greater than you

marbleyes — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 14:22:35 +0000

pixie dust is all it ever was
bubbles of soap popping in my eyes
extraordinary myths dancing alive
oh and the beliefs, proven false, as ever was.

This is my letter to the editor
the son of a bitch has been so bitter
all of her letters were once so strong
and now they seem to have become
so
thin pale skin whithering away into
more pale thin bones to hold up your
piece of shit thoughts that seem to
overlay and overlay until everything is just
decaying into the world you want to
see us all embracing so that you can
try to call what you do laughing.

This is my letter of apology to the ones who cared
it’s because of you that I’m even still here.
There were so many reasons I should have run
should have hidden myself away out in some cave
to rot till I look kind of like…
nevermind.
It’s for you that I write so many times a night
no matter the satire I spew in all directions
I can tell you truly, that though a selfish kind we are,
it’s for your patients that I would die.

And these are the lines that I swear to be unique
kind of like the time we …
filled in the blanks.
I think there was at least one more lesson to learn
and I think it was that we all sometimes turn
sometimes cross the line
and certainly, love so divine.
The three letters that spell out her.
This thing, so unique, to the look in our eyes,
where we both may know that the future may lie
and both will approach at exactly the same time
because that’s just what we’re all about.

That, and shooting stars. :D

and the wheels on the bus go round and round…round and round…

Less than three

marbleyes — Sat, 24 May 2008 14:04:17 +0000

It’s not easy to describe
how hard it is to find
the right kind of heart
with enough invigoration
to power the imagination
enough to envision
a canvas that stretches
across all the land masses.

I still cannot believe
that so much time is spent
searching for a map
that may or may not lead
to another puzzle piece
to build upon an ever growing picture
of what we’re supposed to feel and see
because it doesn’t really matter
if you can’t even fathom
the simple rule of fate
and the power that it creates.

It’s difficult to grasp
a concept so vast
as the ability to see
something coming to me.
but if you can truly feel
the mysterious vibrations
and delusional situations
chances are you can also see
with your eyes covered in light.

And it’s in that blinded state
that I think I may be in
and I don’t know where I am
but the ground feels real
and the old pictures in my mind
seem to have gone missing.
I don’t know what’s coming next
but I do know I can’t wait
And I don’t think I’m alone.

Two moons rising at once

marbleyes — Tue, 20 May 2008 22:49:04 +0000

I am at my wits end. All of this has got to come to some kind of conclusion. I don’t even know if it will help, but every day I don’t sleep is one more that I regret. So much regret pilled upon the sleeping agony is just going to awake a more disturbing, disgusting being than anything I have been able to describe thus far. I am sick of it. It’s making me sick. It feels like something has to be destroyed in order for the beauty we all once shone to come back to us again. It just feels like something has to break.

but
I’m probably the only one feeling the tension. In which case, I’m the one whose going to have to shatter.

I’ve read so many letters
that tell me I’ve got no clue
how do gray skies become blue?
can I draw a pastel night
paint a constellation right there
in plain sight?
Could we compare the epic feeling
to clawing the thin ice?
One of these days
It’s going to be true
I’m going to cut right through
explode into a billion tiny pieces
bend backward against all the creases
show you it’s not so blue
and when the sky becomes blood
you’ll see me come crashing down around you
so many parts of this puzzle
the jagged edges of truth
are going to stab right through.

Six months worth of advice could be summed up into a footnote with only one phrase. That text is what I want engraved on my tombstone, my epitaph. It would be my final bow to the power of the creative womb that we all find ourselves yearning for when we’re feeling so poor. But I would like to be buried facing west, so that if I’m dead when the final sun sets, perhaps I could have a view. I’m sure it would be beautiful.

I believe god
oddly enough, in love
and doves of beasts
as beautiful releases.
But adorn the sky
the color of lust
red on black
I saw jesus.
Leaves us behind
instead, loves some kind..
of monster that’s craving,
starving for flowers
to devour.
So confusing
I could care
but it’s so much less.
All I want
singing soft lullaby’s
so I can rest
to dream of it all
in jest.

It’s just hard for me to see. Someone should tell me. Maybe it’s not so difficult, maybe I’m just being ridiculous. But for ever contradiction, there’s a man waiting in an unemployment line. A boy outside an office waiting for his mother. A nervous teenage girl driving to the doctor. A middle aged woman declining slowly into insanity, and a father hiding from his ghosts. Karma has us all by the throat.

I don’t know.

Every single letter you utter turns a hellish red.

marbleyes — Sun, 18 May 2008 00:29:16 +0000

Mainstream tides collide with massive minds.
They call this the end with a soft beginning.
They say you should travel, and see what’s to be said.
Softer than a feather the streamline train
caries your thoughts far far away.
To a place I call home
and just for now, I’m all alone.
I call it the reckoning,
of all there is today.

Softer than a feather
my mellow heart beats.
The strum of an acoustic
aristocrats autistic.
A genius in disguise
questions just whats behind those
deep blue eyes.
Although I rarely understand,
I can tell you what they see.

in the dark black sea
where the imagination is scared to be
the mothers child awakes
and sings cryptophic keys.
bellowing from the depth
the beginning of an aftermath
vibrating psychopaths
are born to ground the seeds
of another apple tree.
our minds hard fought thoughts
are fighting toward the surface
searching for an escape
to begin their midnight tare.
we try to scour away
but it’s always in vain.
They are always our shadow
grasping our lungs for air.
and even though we sometimes fight,
Our breath always becomes theirs.

Amazing pictographs
of a world not so plain to see
is what lies behind these
deep blue seas.
Scary thoughts of disgusting imagery.
They are what we think
when the sound you make
doesn’t match the worlds beautiful landscape.

Packaging material

marbleyes — Wed, 14 May 2008 00:56:23 +0000

I haven’t been able to pull on a lot to be happy about. With every small or large purchase I make in the search of happiness, I only close another door of opportunity. I AM aware that money is only a bandage, is only a bridge made of kindling, is only a paper blanket. But just as many of you were raised under a flag of color, mine was green.

Being brought up to embrace patience and tact for what it’s potential energy could fathom, I have known for a lifetime that I posses the necessary abilities to propel me into a lavish world of neon and expense. Unfortunately, confusion is also and has always been riding my co tales. Dad a pillar of control, and mother a device of love, my life has never been centered. It’s actually very uncertain and really harnesses the energy of a once galloping horse gone mad.

The long dirt road to becoming a beautiful and unique human being is one that bares the prints of all our ancestors, our parents, our friends. The sound of your voice, the stride in your walk, the opaque mannerisms, the way you greet the waking hour with a yawn or a cough or a scratch. These amazing gifts of awe and wonder, the things we fall in love with. Like the professor lectures because he’s been trampled, the dirt teaches us. The point is staying on track, organized and steady in your route. Those that stray from a learning curve will only experience confusion; this in itself is a lesson learned in life. The lesson that makes you, you. That need to discover your way point is what will define your strengths and weaknesses and all of your potential energy.

Like a balloon untethered, I sometimes feel like the unfortunate that surrounds me is out of control and soaring into oblivion. And I know, that it’s one thing to say the above, quite another to live by it. I know all too well. But as a friend once put it, embrace the bullshit.

to be continued…

To die warm

marbleyes — Sun, 11 May 2008 18:03:00 +0000

When the power goes out
candle light will provide.
From the moon all is bright,
the earth will be on fire.
The mother will cry out
for her sons daughters to all die out.

From deep space comes our inevitable fate
hurdling towards us at an unfathomable rate.
Gods only tear will be because he waited.
Our mother will hurt but she will survive.
She will thrive.
If our sole is anything more than a dirty whore,
we might see one more sunrise
before the clouds cave in.

In the moments before,
You will not ponder.
You will not wonder.
you will not wish,
or become lost.
You will not care.
You will not fight.

You will hold her tight.
You will love her
one last time
and laugh at the world
one last time
before the hammer comes down,
and the trees become free.
You will find an open space
with the beauty that almost matches her eyes,
you will lay down
and stare at the sky
as if it’s nothing larger
like it’s only a soft blanket
keeping us all warm while we’re sick
you pull it up over your heads..
but it’s torn away.
You’re exposed.
You’re still holding her,
you’re alive.
for one last picture.
The flash,
the moment,
it’s the last.
You capture her smile
and you’re happy.

If it were a dream
would you miss the point?
Life is for love
to be happy, is to love
is to be loved
and is to be in love.
you cannot have love
and be unhappy.

Epicorlious

marbleyes — Wed, 07 May 2008 15:55:55 +0000

When the rain fell
With it came, from the heavens
the sweetest comfort alloud
the drumroll pounded like a wave
against my skin in the ocean.
Pulled from the Atlantic
It poored on me.

From the confinds of my mind
where I usually reside
the raindrops sound like bubbles
popping all around me.
Voices I can hear
they’re all just mumbles.

I know who you are
I love how we interact
but you have to understand
that I am not intact.
Infact, I am unable
incapable,
I am unstable.
In the deepest darkest corner
of the fragility of my memory
I am hiding.

The rain sounds familiar
it reminds me of a time
when I couldnt pull the water
to move myself through
until someone came along
and helped me become strong
to glide through the thickness
all the sickness
like all the ugliness
was not for me afterall.

But with the tall
comes a longer fall
and with the winter
comes the summer.
And if fate were a balloon
I wouldnt let it go.
but if fate were flesh and bone,
I dont think it would love you so.
so even though
I cannot see
or hear, or smell
whatever it is
that makes you, you,
just be alert
that others do.
and be aware
that I cannot face whatever truth
or whichever lie
it is I need too
to forget the beautiful landscapes
that you planted in my memory.
and until I do
I will only be a slave
working in a mine
to find a treasure
for someone elses pleasure.