Message

Your world is filled with doubting letters,

They build the poems that you seek

To be your soul, blushing unique,

In pictures dark, one candle matters.

Your mind, an altar of white marble:

The angel carves black thoughts in it.

By nonsense - demons will outwit

With sensuality so subtle...

And you are dancing, silent dreaming,

Of every whisper sounding right.

A last message, to my delight:

The reader lost defines the meaning.

© 2010 Lith Ium

Monday, May 31, 2010

I try To Make Time

I try to make time,

Inside vesicles of idleness,

And shout out particles

Of art and the enzyme

That catalyzes ceaselessness.

I bring ideas and forms,

To Beings and pray they would listen.

But empty eyes reveal the distance

From me and the worms

Of the dreams in crimson.

I write dimensions,

And force creatures in realms and beyond,

Enlighten them, yet they don't,

Appreciate my tensions,

Of which my spirit is so fond.

I end up alone,

In every chapter, every story

Without the climax of a glory,

Between letters of my own,

Never free, but fluffy, curly.

© 2009 Lith Ium

Tuesday, September 15, 2009