25 Mar 15
Uneventful like human existence
charmingly void, inconspicuous;
a pearl of water, cliff hanging
off The Big Empty. Chips ahoy!
See the tremble in my hands?
It is the mischievous raccoon
--a feverish imagination, dried up
as thousand suns set on it.
I am aging. Yet my soul has wrinkled
way before the nether regions of the eyes.
All rights reserved by Seitse © 2015
25 Mar 15
Originally posted by SeitseSounds like a copy and paste from GB from somewhere else.
Uneventful like human existence
charmingly void, inconspicuous;
a pearl of water, cliff hanging
off The Big Empty. Chips ahoy!
See the tremble in my hands?
It is the mischievous raccoon
--a feverish imagination, dried up
as thousand suns set on it.
I am aging. Yet my soul has wrinkled
way before the nether regions of the eyes.
All rights reserved by Seitse © 2015
25 Mar 15
Originally posted by SeitseThey have pills for that nowadays.
Uneventful like human existence
charmingly void, inconspicuous;
a pearl of water, cliff hanging
off The Big Empty. Chips ahoy!
See the tremble in my hands?
It is the mischievous raccoon
--a feverish imagination, dried up
as thousand suns set on it.
I am aging. Yet my soul has wrinkled
way before the nether regions of the eyes.
All rights reserved by Seitse © 2015
25 Mar 15
Originally posted by SeitseAfter the torch-light red on sweaty faces
Last thing I did well, my friend, was to breathe.
Yet that will end someday too. Like everything else.
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and place and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
TS Eliot, Wasteland