Roads

I'm chasing Gods while chased by Death,
Painting my road so careless,
A desert takes away my breath,
And makes me very anxious.

I've seen your road, ivory white,
Maya blue clouds, deceiving -
My eyes, - your picture's a delight,
In light and shades, so teasing.

The flowers silver, ice blue, teal,
Enchant my wasteland vision.
I know I'm not allowed to feel -
so much for just a fiction.

The lake, liquid, electric blue,
I'm tense and feel so captive,
'Cause I have lost my road for you,
The blue was too deceptive.

© Copyright 2009 Lexylith Ium

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Anaesthetized

Her mind dreams notes painted in silver,
And doubts the future will arise
The lost emotions, lost within her,
She feels ... anaesthetized.

The world, the wind, seem mere illusions,
Eons went by since life surprised,
With passion, thrill, obsessed infusions,
Her heart ... anaesthetized.

Colors seem cold. They are reflections,
Of light, and she has been advised,
There are no angels, elfs or demons,
Her eyes ... anaesthetized.

Breathing in desert. Sands seal the sound,
Her vision's always theorized,
And though eternal, she has found,
Her lips ... anaesthetized.

She kisses snow. Feels icey mirrors,
And all around -, shadows disguised,
And voices, echoes, frozen whispers,
Her Soul ... anaesthetized.

© Copyright 2009 Lexylith Ium

Distance

The distance to a soul, unknown,

The distance hiding beneath eyes.

A touch away, but ever so,

A touch that only lies.

And would I ever dare to walk,

The distance to a soul, unknown,

I'd seek a bridge, and ever so,

Walk up, up, up... and down.

But as my eyes are made of stone,

And all my dreams of icey nights,

The distance to a soul, unknown,

Are letters mere, a poet writes.

And I could write and write and write,

Chasing old shadows, all alone,

Yet never walking, sadly quite,

The distance to a soul, unknown.

© Copyright 2009 Lexylith Ium

Locus Solus

The 'Soul' is a different entity ... ever far and alone. Doleful chamber of autopoiesis

Dissembled dark. I doubt he'll write,

That he's lost in a mirror,

The poets effulgent delight

Reflects always a dimmer...

... a dimmer sound, entailing sin,

In forms which once were breathless,

Havoc emerging from within,

Eventually exile, now faithless...

... now faithless dreams in flawless time,

Endless in lonely hours,

Dreaming of a dreadfull rhyme,

That 'we' would call now 'ours'.

© Copyright 2009 Lexylith Ium