Vision+Voice

Your smile is like a memory in my mind
As the paper folds in your small, delicate hands
The sun is bright as the plane soars above our heads
Such a short time we are children; the plane lands

In the morning of this home where you belong
Bright flowers opening in a sleepy sun
Sing to the perfect melody of a song

Delicate animals open their eyes along
With the blanket of trees that coat the horizon
In the noon of this home where you belong

The mountains who look down upon all are strong
They protect the valley that holds each and everyone
And join into the perfect melody of a song

Even the dullest of things never prolonged
Are all diamonds in the continual harmony begun
In the evening of this home where you belong

A path of water that has no wrongs
Splits and rejoins on the mossy staircase not undone
Entwines itself into the perfect melody of a song

A breese rights all that is wronged
And sings Aloha until the day is done
In the twilight of this home that you belong
Hawaii will comfort you to the perfect melody of a song

As I am standing so stupefied here
Motionless, with the cold nipping so near
A moon in the horizon which I peer
Eyes full, not displaying too much known fear
Then when it draws me in at its own glance
Untold, it stretches, how far it degrades
A bloody glow in the air holds a trance
The sky, afraid of this whole masquerade
And the wisps of clouds trip over themselves
For it is trampling my poor starched vigor
And stomping my emotions to no health
It pulls my consciousness from my figure
The red beast who holds such a tangled smile
Curls a mystery around me in bile

In an upside down world
On an upside down face
A smile was there
But a frown took its place

Someone important had gone
To a far away land
Where she was left struggling
Not able to grasp a hand

When she went away,
Any sort of happiness had gone too
With not a clue on what to do.
She was gone as quick as light

Now the only thing left is night
No brightness able to slip through
The shards of our hearts. Broken
The world felt empty the hope it’s a trick, a taboo

Her slight eye glancing at me, ready,
My feet in thin brown boots,
Slide fluently into their rusty position
Across the reflective wood beneath us,
She takes her stance with silence
The wind killing all sprouts of new conversation

My fingers slide over my soft, gold streaked hair
The very touch of the sleak blade,
My hand jumps back
The feeling of burning white fire coursing through my fingertips
Hidden by the shadows of my concern
And the black coals of regret filling the air
My twinge of doubt streaks across my face
The tinges of feeling sliding out,
Into the world forming the thick grey cloud
Silhouetting my body

I tug at my free hand the feeling of a million tons at my side lifting
I force the thought away once more,
Clenching my fist into the pain of needles in flesh
Letting my eyelids close,
I fear that tears of lost pain will come
My focus on the new enhanced ones
The fire in my fingers inflates as I reach,
Sliding the blade from my back

I take a cool deep breath,
The cloud pulsing with me
I rush toward her feeling the cold wind at my cheeks
The quiet birds chirping
The green grass blowing
The soft beauty
The intense pain

With each slash of searing pain that comes with my wield
The damp clouds follow,
Leaving only the devoured corps of my will
Consuming all known
Consuming all beauty
Only letting me pass without forgiveness,
Hostile

The sun’s peak is over,
It fades into a downfall,
It glances over the horizon to take one last look,
But it catches the moon approaching its crown.

Oh so jealous it makes the sun,
Out of spite, the sun lingers on the horizon,
It paints the sky with oranges and pinks to overshadow the moon.

The sun thinks highly of itself knowing it won the battle,
But it must disappear until morning, so the sky fades to dark and the sun is gone,
Until tomorrow the moon rules the sky.

Windows,
Openings into a new world,
A place better than your own,
A place that might deceive your mind.

Windows,
Shattered by sound,
Shattered by rock,
Shattered by the world.

Windows,
Trashed,
Hopelessly lost,
Why try when you will always be replaced?

Windows,
Things that can be covered physically,
That will always be open mentally,
Built with fear of being seen,
Paranoia can take over in the mind of the ruminator.

Windows,
Reflecting,
Self and light,
Shattering the perception of who you pretend to be,
Allowing you to see yourself as you truly are.