The quest of a lifetime

The one who has built treasures here on earth, has decided that they should decay on their own, being left behind like a trail of bait.

The one who has decided to embark on a quest, has found that the lost woods of his mind are journey enough, and that the legendary sword is found in a place where the branches of the trees do not reach.

The master sword, which glitters handle to blade, will not betray the one who wields.

 

And like a song, it could be said, is the quest of the one who initiates his life.

There is a dying fall, there is a rise, there is a melody.

And like a scream heard in the wilderness, like a tree that falls, so does the sound of love echo in the gloom of struggle.

 

Let it not end, let it be shown.

It deserves no less, than world reknown.

A word, a tear, a laugh, a cheer,

For none is meaningless.

 

The Guitar is My Emotional Sedative

The guitar is my emotional sedative

It takes away my pain

By giving me a throat-less voice

The pain in my core

Finds expression through my fingers

And forms words on plastic strings

The day when my physical body can play no more

And to a new world my spirit soars

Then let me bask in the Melody of Heaven

The order

the notes

Have passed me through the shadows

In this life I glide easy

Thanks to the crutch of chords

In the next life I want them with me also

And this sad song they call my life

May it end well when light shines bright

And the Angel chorus sings

A song transcending my guitar strings

Wealth of Appreciation

Wealth of appreciation

Upon black boughs

Redeaming alliteration

And Crystal Rows

The smiles on people’s faces

Do reasure me

There’s none to take the glitter

When we close our eyes to dream

A moment passes by moment

Like costumers waiting in line

Eager to give their due

And take along new wine

And we see upon the tempest

Each raindrop has a name

And every splash seems to proclaim

We are not the same

And the sound a splash does make

Like a courteus guest

Will not enter pass the ear

Unless invited by the host

(This poem is a response to Ezra Pound’s In a Station of the Metro)

Song of Driblets

Sing bard of untold beaty in the river banks

Lose yourself in a state of ecstacy and pleasure

Know trully how one can harken into my words

And change his mind

For tis one who trully knows

And tis one who trully perceives

The words of the prophets are like raindrops

That spring forth from the clouds and bring

Upon the way of righteousness

For once forbidden, once disobeyed

And left dismayed