tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7356996931751925472011-09-08T14:24:03.817-04:00The VillanelleA blog about all things Villanelle.Chrisnoreply@blogger.comBlogger8561100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-85925537002429212182010-12-11T18:21:00.005-05:002010-12-11T18:31:52.046-05:00without her this here heart it rots awaywithout her this here heart it rots away
the cure for this disease is not now known
the grave it stumbles closer day by day
the days of laughter in the sun and play
have left with my dear flesh, i'm down to bone
without her this here heart it rots away
she was my life, alas! she couldn't stay
i'm ready, eyelids already been sown
the grave it stumbles closer day by day
i never thought i'd see Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-37403323968769118432010-11-21T23:57:00.000-05:002010-11-22T00:06:00.909-05:00now there's a secret haunting my dear soulnow there's a secret haunting my dear souli won't expose, the world will never knowit vanished, swallowed in my darkened holethe days transparency was my clear rolehave gone, will not return here anymorenow there's a secret haunting my dear soulso black, it's darkened me like dirty coalfell in upon itself with mighty roarit vanished, swallowed in my darkened holeand those who know me worry 'bout TheVillanellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03804873676653032808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-77935269968203303352010-09-26T22:11:00.005-04:002010-09-26T22:15:07.373-04:00you said you would return in just a bityou said you would return in just a bit
and so I waited for you patiently
for seven heavy hours I did sit
you didn't think to honestly admit
your other plans which did not include me
you said you would return in just a bit
and i assumed a fiteen minute flit
still dressed, by window sill, so i could see
for seven heavy hours I did sit
your smile did not my angry mood befit
when finally you Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-12841776366400265042010-08-01T21:22:00.001-04:002010-08-01T21:50:42.771-04:00incomprehensible the mortal changeincomprehensible the mortal changeall there before, not here again no morefrom what one was to what he's now, so strangeineffable enough to make a soul derangedwhat once walked round now lies beneath the floorincomprehensible the mortal changethe flesh that lived, now from its bone's estrangedshut down, broken, he's slipped past coffin's doorfrom what one was to what he's now, so TheVillanellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03804873676653032808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-18032603205233436382010-06-27T18:59:00.002-04:002010-06-27T19:07:04.496-04:00your voice has been a silence now four yearsyour voice has been a silence now four years
your laughter's echo's passed to memory
and on this day I shed my silent tears
they trail down cheeks, these tears I do not steer
no words are said, pretending not to see
your voice has been a silence now four years
a gaze, then eyes stare down among your peers
at feet not there where one good friend should be
and on this day I shed my silent tears
Chrisnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-62388344349902945812010-05-15T20:12:00.005-04:002010-05-15T20:18:22.920-04:00since he has left there's been much contemplationsince he has left there's been much contemplation
regarding things I cannot comprehend
the silent dark of my own destination
the afterwards defying comprehension
that place we go, eternity to spend
since he has left there's been much contemplation
my reasoning is met with much frustration
to overcome my mind must learn to bend
the silent dark of my own destination
cannot be verified by Chrisnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-39328174510480366092010-04-22T19:14:00.001-04:002010-04-22T19:15:44.661-04:00that Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetratedthat Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetratedthe blade's removed yet its cold steel remainsour spirit's gone, our breaths remain abatedupon us both the crime's been perpetratedand though the blade is marked with just his stainsthat Scythe has rent my heart, i'm penetratedhis essence from my own's been dislocatedmy life remains with only his remainsour spirit's gone, our breaths remain abatedmy Chrisnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-43381344621770768452010-02-19T20:11:00.005-05:002010-02-19T20:16:54.752-05:00Heartburni've searched the world but there is not a cure
to end the suffering that tortures me
my life is burning to a char for sure
i'll burn until no more i can endure
and slither to the bottom of the sea
i've searched the world but there is not a cure
a heartburn sears my heart for ever more
this dragon i've become is all i see
my life is burning to a char for sure
with flaming breath i singe the Chrisnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-71629580600944955652010-02-18T20:28:00.007-05:002010-02-18T20:34:47.856-05:00for years he tried to share his past with mefor years he tried to share his past with me
yet i rejected it for fleeting things
he's old, his past is now a memory
he showed me life back then so frequently
with all the joy that such recalling brings
for years he tried to share his past with me
today he hardly says a word to me
of bygone days' most beauty-filled old things
he's old, his past is now a memory
i now have left behind the Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-38745300891719729292010-02-14T14:21:00.002-05:002010-02-14T14:29:48.650-05:00the gears keep turning round and round and roundthe gears keep turning round and round and roundbeen trapped between the cogs well since that daymy aching bones into a dust are groundwithin grief's pain machine I can be foundpulled slowly through this single path and waythe gears keep turning round and round and roundif only memories were small and roundi'd squeeze by teeth with some little leewaymy aching bones into a dust are groundfor TheVillanellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03804873676653032808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-85255687034082928092010-02-09T20:33:00.003-05:002010-02-14T14:28:52.602-05:00i hold within, my treasured memoriesi hold within, my treasured memoriesinside my private treasure chest, my brainone day they'll be dispersed into the breezeand though the pictures faded in degreestheir value's grown as wheat grows from the graini hold within, my treasured memoriesi'll always view them when i turn the keysthat play the moving pictures frame by frameone day they'll be dispersed into the breezefor i live but an hourChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-17305333858019040462010-02-06T22:36:00.002-05:002011-06-15T12:05:44.732-04:00the good struggle, their souls are always testedthe good struggle, their souls are always testedtemptation pierces flesh down to the bonethe bad are fine, their minds already bestedtheir foreheads burnt with mark so crimson crestedthe difference 'tween the two is overblownthe good struggle, their souls are always testedand guilt weighs heavy 'pon those fallen chestedhumility runs rampant, always shownthe bad are fine, their minds already TheVillanellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03804873676653032808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-74477915235882881322010-01-31T20:35:00.003-05:002010-02-14T14:29:26.700-05:00Today we're freeToday we're free,to speak our mind--of liberty,came this decree,from years behind.Today we're free!As most can see,the violent minds--of liberty,go on their spree,commit their crimes.Today we're free,but to stay free,we'll change in time,this liberty--for security--we'll leave behind.Today we're freeof liberty.(C)2010, Christos RigakosTheVillanellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03804873676653032808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-80715555541268608152010-01-28T17:13:00.005-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.227-05:00a man can't strike a womana man can't strike a woman, I don't care
what she has done, a man should know his place,
this rule evens the score and makes it fair,
for every bloated muscle he could bare,
a smaller one hides under frilly lace,
a man can't strike a woman, I don't care,
oh she can scratch his eyes and rip his hair
in anger, taunt his manhood to his face,
this rule evens the score and makes it fair,
and even Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-18100971633307352842010-01-27T00:21:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.267-05:00there is a place I go to be alonethere is a place I go to be alone
just name the spot and you will see me there
whenever I'm awake my heart does groan
in times when agony is over shown
among the crowd I stand with silent stare
there is a place I go to be alone
it's here and there and every place I've known
it's every day of years we've lived and shared
whenever I'm awake my heart does groan
and when my grief is steaming, Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-52762477586467825982010-01-23T21:55:00.002-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.306-05:00Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemiticSome claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic,for Christians blame Christ's Crucifixion squarely on the Jews.How simple life must be to the uneducated critic,decrying, Christians persecuted Jews and always hid it,with angry rage they paid back what they thought were rightful dues!Some claim, to be a Christian is to be antisemitic,yet Jews deny they persecuted Christians--won't admit it,for Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-58622720332796283032010-01-23T19:24:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.346-05:00my memory was once a fleshy manmy memory was once a fleshy manwho lived and did the things that I recalla man can turn into a thought, he canone day, upon this change, there'll be a banyet for the time we'll change upon the callmy memory was once a fleshy manit's hard to grasp how man can be no maninto an afterthought he'll trip and falla man can turn into a thought, he canas chicken simmers in a frying panthe flesh translatesChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-66764334186972370142010-01-23T14:00:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.386-05:00I write you letters since we speak no moreI write you letters, since we speak no more--
a thought, a feeling, written once a day,
my letters grow in piles before your door,
since your departure, I have missed you more,
and more with every single passing day,
I write you letters, since we speak no more,
your absence makes my heart much more adore
what filled your current void, I've much to say--
my letters grow in piles before your doorChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-49732640161154747032010-01-20T18:00:00.002-05:002010-01-30T20:57:49.935-05:00Dark and Dreadful WoodsIn the darkest dark the world has ever known,I walk toward my fate with head held high,Although I smile I feel dread in my bones. I know they are there I can hear them moan,My courage is strong I stand like a rock,In the darkest dark the world has ever known. My life has led me into this dark zone,I am fearful of what lies in the dark,Although I smile I feel dread in my bones. I hear a raven Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-11501079523290780172010-01-03T00:00:00.001-05:002010-01-31T00:52:25.425-05:00Winter VillanelleWinter hour reflections growLike ripples in a darkening poolThe lost and loved of long agoCircle above the black winged crowWinding out the memory spoolWinter hour reflections growFor what it was she thought to knowCome skating through the icy coolThe lost and loved of long agoBone tree bare December’s glowKeeper of the fable jewelHer winter hour reflections growAnd leave their footprints in the Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-42562288062424798322009-11-24T09:52:00.002-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.506-05:00precaution's wise and practical for allprecaution's wise and practical for allprevention keeps the illnesses at baythough wisdom's held by few and some will fall no matter, smart or dumb or short or talltomorrow's life is kept secure todayprecaution's wise and practical for all such wisdom's spread to ears by simple calland most do understand the words they saythough wisdom's held by few and some will fall will wildly run as if to Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-72185641694605674612009-11-14T18:00:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:56.547-05:00Winter's DomainThe leaves are the first to go,As winter's chill presses on,Barren trees expect the snow. On our hands our breath we blow,Settling in for icy naps,The leaves are the first to go. We hear the cawing of crows,Windows frosted over now,Barren trees expect the snow. Chimney smoke curls upward slow,Telling all we’re safe and snug,The leaves are the first to go. We sit and talk, maybe sew,Under a heavy Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-49219103217973743992009-11-06T12:00:00.001-05:002010-04-24T17:19:28.139-04:00Busy MusicThe busy music bends me on my wayin prisoned love denying maturation,and love’s a rune we cannot shape or say.I said I loved you when I hadn’t, fey:you harnessed me in heartstring traces,and the busy music bends us on our way.You snared my heart with wordless magic sway,a witchcraft forged from kissing and embraces,for love’s a rune we cannot shape or say.We waltzed like children in a timeless TheVillanellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03804873676653032808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-33085017060637318122009-09-13T22:08:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.588-05:00before the night has gone to sleepbefore the night has gone to sleep
when moon has stilled, begun to yawn
the sun within a cage we keep
and for the lost ones do we weep
from dusk until the coming dawn
before the night has gone to sleep
with difficulty would we reap
the tears that'd melt within light's brawn
the sun within a cage we keep
and into darkness rich and deep
as into hidden caves of prawns
before the night has gone toChrisnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-69817674805962442542009-09-02T21:44:00.002-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.626-05:00old songs, a river flowing to the seaold songs, a river flowing to the sea,
i'm taken where you were, no longer are,
so far away from here they carry me,
into the sparkling waves of memory,
we meet across the ocean wide and far,
old songs, a river flowing to the sea,
as always we repeat the scenes I see,
yet when i dare to reach you, I am barred,
so far away from here they carry me,
in rich and vibrant tones you speak to me,
withChrisnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-34003829649000807732009-07-26T15:22:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.663-05:00the bishop touches subjects not his ownforgetting for which topic he has grown
he makes a proclamation as the blind
the bishop touches subjects not his own
assuming foreign flesh of unknown bone
he's reached to things to which he cannot bind
forgetting for which topic he has grown
assuming Divine Providence has shown
him things belonging to a different kind
the bishop touches subjects not his own
repeating fallacies that voices Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-69500118529757451822009-07-19T22:14:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.701-05:00in ten years time I've lost so many lovesin ten years time I've lost so many lovestwo cats, grandma and uncle had to goa scythed old man has taken all our dovesi find my eyes exploring skies abovefor brother, grandpa, where to? i don't knowin ten years time I've lost so many lovesas if someone has given life a shoveover some cliff high up bathed in moon's glowa scythed old man has taken all our dovesas if just one could never be Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-38078903166398484182009-07-19T16:23:00.003-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.885-05:00Knowingthey came to Earth to take us all away,the few of us who'd make a new beginning,who had the mark to save us from the Day,through whispers into children's ears would say,the dates when Death's visage would show up grinning,they came to Earth to take us all away,who have our innocence, the rest would stay,who lost it in a sea of vulgar sinning,who had the mark to save us from the Day,the visitors Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-62502058155693906022009-07-15T20:30:00.003-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.924-05:00where is the other world?where is the other world, where does reside
the realm of souls impossible to see
that place where loved ones go where spirits hide?
most say it is a place where souls abide
a distance from the flesh of which they flee
where is the other world, where does reside
the doorway sought and failed where many've tried
to peek into the dark against decree
that place where loved ones go where spirits Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-19340791682988455132009-07-15T06:32:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:56.964-05:00electrons swirl a distance from the coreelectrons swirl a distance from the core,which changes over time both to and fro,the distance can be changed by less or more,what will it be and what was it before?the microscopes reveal just what they show--electrons swirl a distance from the core,the secret's in the energy that's stored,electrons through their shells are pushed or towed,the distance can be changed by less or more,while mass Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-61606909237115303272009-07-11T21:12:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.002-05:00what is the essence of a man?what is the essence of a man,
that thing that differentiates,
but all he knows and all he can?
the knowledge carried in the hand,
the patterns he perpetuates?
what is the essence of a man,
which past the end of his lifespan,
out from the skin all penetrates,
but all he knows and all he can?
his breath to everywhere it spans,
with voice a heart loud palpitates,
what is the essence of a man?
heChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-41524969295921342802009-07-08T22:07:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.041-05:00avoid the dirt or else be stainedavoid the dirt or else be stainedweighed down by uglinessand from the marriage hall restrainedbefore the bridegroom don't be shameddress up in holinessavoid the dirt or else be stainedand from the outer gates be painedto watch afar the bride in dressand from the marriage hall restrainedtrue holiness cannot be feignedand falsity will not impressavoid the dirt or else be stainedthe night outside Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-49928598181048075442009-07-07T20:48:00.004-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.079-05:00i wax nostalgic as I pull my hair,i wax nostalgic as I pull my hair,
as they have always come, again they're here,
my friends, they sit like corpses and they stare,
lamenting how my life's been most unfair,
while quivering and lapping up my tears,
i wax nostalgic as I pull my hair,
and as the follicles from skin I tear,
they hush their tongues, in silence lend their ears,
my friends, they sit like corpses and they stare,
how Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-61693366660495971152009-07-05T19:43:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.118-05:00there is nobody else like methere is nobody else like me,i am unique, i am a freak,oh, can't you see, oh can't you see?i am like nothing else you'll see,you've never heard a man so speak,there is nobody else like me,I am a servant living free,both i am strong and I am weak,oh, can't you see, oh can't you see?I scream in hushed-tone subtleties,I have a happiness most bleak,there is nobody else like me,I am so poor I cannot Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-77693223213559272552009-06-20T23:32:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.156-05:00Oh, let me pose a question to the dayOh, let me pose a question to the day--could you explain the meaning of my life?as our friend good old Socrates would say.My wisdom's far from black or white, but grey.Is there an answer for this old midwife?Oh, let me pose a question to the day,and maybe, somehow, I will find a wayto understand a world with sadness rife,as our friend good old Socrates would say.I focus on the premises but stray,Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-51089686573189263222009-06-18T21:43:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.194-05:00instead of freely living libertyinstead of freely living liberty
the legislation shows how to behave
with regulated actions think we're free
to do just as we're told we are so free
to regulated freedom we are slaves
instead of freely living liberty
we're told just what we can and cannot see
what words we are allowed or not to say
with regulated actions think we're free
they've molded what our liberty should be
and tell us itChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-85174786955341448632009-06-14T17:03:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.231-05:00oh, who am I that I may moan my hurtoh, who am I that I may moan my hurt--
the throbbing of the heart's unhealing burn--
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt?
I whine too much for one who's life's so curt,
when far worse lives are lessons to be learned,
oh, who am I that I may moan my hurt?
for others have not shoes to wear or shirt,
and neither have they roof or floor to yearn,
but dust upon the earth, a thing of dirt,
Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-24660010252390116102009-06-14T08:51:00.002-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.269-05:00we cover them so we may never seewe cover them so we may never seethe ugliness that grows along the wayfrom what they have become,our eyes do fleethe way they always were, to always berequires that how they were will always staywe cover them so we may never seewhat happens to these personalitieswho've left our homes, by force, to go awayfrom what they have become,our eyes do fleeso to preserve the silent memoryfor preservation'sChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-46868365023356157872009-05-31T15:34:00.002-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.307-05:00The Doorways Between Two Worldsthe doorways 'tween two worlds, so little known,
where visitors pass through for just a time,
they traffic souls, conception to the bone,
it's where the lives begin with cry and moan,
before they're off to live out their lifetime,
the doorways 'tween two worlds, so little known,
the new ones come, the old ones leave, alone,
the population balances in time,
they traffic souls, conception to the Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-84455420100612634252009-05-31T13:42:00.003-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.345-05:00they reason from the scriptures and they failthey reason from the scriptures and they fail
their understanding minds don't understand
they find the end of reason, chase its tail
their minds, through scripture's imagery set sail
they crash the jagged reefs and there they strand
they reason from the scriptures and they fail
before real knowledge reasoning does pale
real knowledge gifted from the true God's hand
they find the end of reason, Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-40335443732324944912009-05-25T20:27:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.382-05:00youth's troubles, insurmountable, so tall,youth's troubles, insurmountable, so tall,i struggled till I wished them all away,oh would that mine could be today so small,the young, so filled with pride, so quick to fall,i wish those trials back to me today,youth's troubles, insurmountable, so tall,the fault of youth, to think to know it all,yet never with an answer for to say,oh would that mine could be today so small,is this merely Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-91242739792974146152009-05-25T05:56:00.000-04:002010-01-31T00:57:02.895-05:00TwinsMore Cunning than I;indeed, more treacherous even than Dr. Jackal,he grips the throats of those that dieStrength and speed and eyes of the skymake him a man most cruel --more cunning than I.He craves pure blood -- blue blood dye --and seeks those that love another -- poor fool --he grips the throats of those that die.Happiness is murdered nigh a lie,and he is the perfect gentlemen in a dual --Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-72354630862317453892009-05-22T22:37:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.457-05:00oh apriori is this very factoh apriori is this very factwhich contradiction cannot ever touchthat man of any will of mind does actto contradict this truth takes more than tactwith smoke and mirrors, slight of hand and suchoh apriori is this very factto say that man does anything but actis but an act itself which proves so muchthat man of any will of mind does actwhen we regress the logic stays intactback past the act of manChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-23351265043684613802009-05-22T20:21:00.001-04:002010-01-31T00:57:14.977-05:00The World and the ChildLetting his wisdom be the whole of love,The father tiptoes out, backwards. A gleamFalls on the child awake and wearied of,Then, as the door clicks shut, is snuffed. The glove-Gray afterglow appalls him. It would seemThat letting wisdom be the whole of loveWere pastime even for the bitter groveOutside, whose owl's white hoot of disesteemFalls on the child awake and wearied of.He lies awake in painChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-18676233490806652442009-05-22T20:18:00.001-04:002010-01-31T00:56:42.786-05:00The Worker and the TrampHeaven bless you, my friend—You, the man who won't sweat;Here's a quarter to spend.If you did but mend,My job you would get;—Heaven bless you, my friend.—On you I dependFor my work, don't forget;—Here's a quarter to spend.My hand I extend,For I love you, you bet:—Here's a quarter to spend.Ah! you comprehendThat I owe a debt;Heaven bless you, my friend,Here's a quarter to spend.(C)Jack London (Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-25978849124268675402009-05-22T20:16:00.000-04:002010-01-31T00:54:26.460-05:00The Grammar LessonA noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does.An adjective is what describes the noun.In "The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz"*of* and *with* are prepositions. *The's*an article, a *can's* a noun,a noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does.A can *can* roll - or not. What isn't wasor might be, *might* meaning not yet known."Our can of beets *is* filled with purple fuzz"is present tense. Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-59102831439795395642009-05-22T20:15:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.609-05:00The Ted Williams Villanelle"Don't let anybody mess with your swing." Ted Williams, baseball playerWatch the ball and do your thing.This is the moment. Here's your chance.Don't let anybody mess with your swing.Its time to shine. You're in the ring.Step forward, adopt a winning stance,Watch the ball and do your thing,And while the ball is taking wing,Run without a backward glance.Don't let anybody mess Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-74574622417155745132009-05-22T20:12:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.646-05:00VillanelleIt is the pain, it is the pain endures.Your chemic beauty burned my muscles through.Poise of my hands reminded me of yours.What later purge from this deep toxin cures?What kindness now could the old salve renew?It is the pain, it is the pain endures.The infection slept (custom or changes inures)And when pain's secondary phase was duePoise of my hands reminded me of yours.How safe I felt, whom Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-3833832450204920772009-05-22T20:11:00.000-04:002010-01-31T01:07:11.802-05:00herbstvillanelleden tagen geht das licht ausund eine stunde dauert zehn minuten.die bäume spielten ihre letzten farben.am himmel wechselt man die bühnenbilderzu rasch für das kleine drama in jedem von uns:den tagen geht das licht aus.dein grauer mantel trennt dich von der luft,ein passepartout für einen satz wie diesen:die bäume spielten ihre letzten farben.eisblaue fenster - auf den wetterkartender Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-68923360204302392222009-05-22T20:09:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.723-05:00J'ay perdu ma tourterelleJ'ay perdu ma tourterelle :Est-ce point celle que j'oy ?Je veux aller après elle.Tu regrètes ta femelle,Hélas ! aussi fay je moy :J'ay perdu ma tourterelle.Si ton amour est fidelle,Aussi est ferme ma foy,Je veux aller après elle.Ta plaincte se renouvelle ;Tousjours plaindre je me doy :J'ay perdu ma tourterelle.En ne voyant plus la belle,Plus rien de beau je ne voy ;Je veux aller après elle.Mort Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-28760323086727555912009-05-22T20:08:00.000-04:002010-01-31T01:02:23.012-05:00Das Konstruieren reiner VillanellenDoch, es erfrischt die kleinen grauen Zellen,erscheint zunächst es auch verteufelt schwer,das Konstruieren reiner Villanellen.Schon die Entscheidung ist nicht leicht zu fällen,was für ein Reim sich eignet: Der? Nein? Der? -Doch es erfrischt die kleinen grauen Zellen!Dann wird jongliert mit Reimen wie mit Bällen:Solang es gut geht, amüsiert es sehr,das Konstruieren reiner Villanellen.Bisweilen Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-23249474423784202842009-05-22T20:06:00.001-04:002010-01-31T00:45:16.583-05:00The Story We Know The way to begin is always the same. Hello, Hello. Your hand, your name. So glad, Just fine, And Good-bye at the end. That's every story we know, And why pretend? But lunch tomorrow? No? Yes? An omelette, salad, chilled white wine? The way to begin is simple, sane, Hello, And then it's Sunday, coffee, the Times, a slow Day by the fire, dinner at Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-41216920891277820142009-05-22T16:11:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.838-05:00A day will come when they'll collect my soulA day will come when they'll collect my soul,as they have done with all those before me,to pass me through the forty different tolls.To analyze my character's life role,with words and deeds in burning third degree,a day will come when they'll collect my soul.My guardian, with good deeds in a bowl,will show the toll booth keepers all of me,to pass me through the forty different tolls.Have I Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-56916247614736514602009-05-10T22:03:00.003-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.877-05:00oh there's no one so very wiseoh there's no one so very wise
who could retain a restless heart
as scheming woman's love disguise
the wisest couldn't part the lies
of woman's plans to wrest apart
oh there's no one so very wise
no matter if with many tries,
determination from the start
as scheming woman's love disguise
those promises, to many guys
not you alone, her scheming heart
oh there's no one so very wise
her love, itChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-90381605060404039322009-05-09T19:03:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.917-05:00if we had known the things we didn't knowif we had known the things we didn't know
you'd be here sipping mocha-frapps today
you'd spend a few more decades 'fore you'd go
there wouldn't have been things that couldn't show
and I would not have painful things to say
if we had known the things we didn't know
maybe if I had been a better bro
had been a greater influence to sway
you'd spend a few more decades 'fore you'd go
was I a bad Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-28188832277627920642009-05-09T17:18:00.002-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.953-05:00the anti-you won't go awaythe anti-you won't go awaybeside me always he remainswon't let you come again and staymy mouth is shut, i cannot sayhow much I drown within my painsthe anti-you won't go awayand with him bringing skies dark greyhis presence won't undo my strainswon't let you come again and stayupon my sanity's edge frayedI walk in search of what remainsthe anti-you won't go awaywe stare in silence through the Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-12638479001916353272009-05-08T16:33:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:57.991-05:00for the sake of himfor the sake of himI fall on knees and prayoh, please take care of himbeyond our light so dimand on this very dayfor the sake of himour knowledge is so slimof how he is todayoh, please take care of himbeyond that earthly rimoh, hear the words we sayfor the sake of himhis judgment - bright or grim?however, either wayoh, please take care of himoh, all have gone and sinnedbut every single dayfor theChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-48826303589721117052009-05-01T14:38:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:58.028-05:00with faith in God we struggle onwith faith in God we struggle on
out of the grave of noted day
the Rock we all rely upon
to fill the void of one who's gone
with supplications do we pray
with faith in God we struggle on
how else could we have faced the dawn
after the dusk of brother's day?
the Rock we all rely upon
has sturdied all His trembling fawn
without His Might there is no way
with faith in God we struggle on
from oneChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-57952566793723690392009-04-30T16:03:00.002-04:002010-01-30T16:05:58.066-05:00oh, wherefore art thou, little bro?oh, wherefore art thou, little bro?
you once were here, but now you're there,
and where, beside earth, did you go?
for certain, never will be shown
the hidden recess of your lair,
oh, wherefore art thou, little bro?
for there is one place we do know
you lay, because we left you there,
and where, beside earth, did you go?
aside from there where life does grow,
is there a second home you share?
Chrisnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-17038334673076758162009-04-30T15:48:00.000-04:002010-01-30T16:05:58.103-05:00a tube, two weeks, between his parching lipsa tube, two weeks, between his parching lips,
distorted their most perfect liply shape,
before he slipped through all our tightened grips,
and so they stayed distorted as two rips,
pushed far apart, so permanent, agape,
a tube, two weeks, between his parching lips,
before his breath escaped from opened lips,
before they pulled from toe to head the drape,
before he slipped through all our Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-929337200266732892009-03-22T18:29:00.001-04:002010-01-30T16:05:58.140-05:00I am destroyed and here is whyI am destroyed and here is why:
the one who came into my life,
his soul's exhaled into the sky.
He played a part, I can't deny,
in every part about my life.
I am destroyed! And here is why
forever I am doomed to sigh:
when extricated by that Knife,
his soul's exhaled into the sky.
My past's destroyed, for who am I,
but who I've been in someone's life?
I am destroyed and here is why:
a Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-26117750125326408902009-03-13T20:13:00.005-04:002010-01-30T16:05:58.178-05:00the matter matters all too much its truethe matter matters all too much its truefor what it is is everything and manit's what I am and what they were and youwithin four pounds is everything we doideas thoughts and actions all we canthe matter matters all too much its truewithout the matter what we are and whois not and nil, a null and all but sansit's what I am and what they were and youi'm in my own and in your own was youthough in Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-26875103191375649302009-03-11T04:59:00.002-04:002010-01-31T00:55:01.806-05:00Up In The SkyWe all smile and turn our heads to the skyA beautiful night, the fresh air outsideAll of us so happy, the greatest highFeeling so free, just maybe we could flyTravel to the stars, see the universe collideAs we go up, up, up into the skyWe're all so comfortable, not a feeling of shyFeeling of happiness, a sense of prideWe're there for each other, raise the cups highNo one could take this away fromChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-48981661046132178002009-02-15T14:32:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.252-05:00the length of silence haunting mein just four months three years will be
the time I've stared into the sky
the length of silence haunting me
my eyes are blind, I cannot see
though hard I squint my scanning eyes
in just four months three years will be
the mourning pain I cannot flee
you'd find but dust if you would pry
the length of silence haunting me
the well has dried and withered me
I'll be a bone until I die
in just four Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-28526673668969269082009-02-06T18:02:00.004-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.290-05:00all hail the new messiah manall hail the new messiah man
let's shower him with so much praise
he'll save the world the way he can
he is our leader with a tan
the first the people have upraised
all hail the new messiah man
he's different with the same old plan
he'll give the poor a good old raise
he'll save the world the way he can
he'll stop the riches with a ban
and save the world with steely gaze
all hail the new Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-47245731637023527302009-02-05T21:31:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.327-05:00Villanelle Of Marguerites“A little, passionately, not at all?“ She casts the snowy petals on the air:And what care we how many petals fall! Nay, wherefore seek the seasons to forestall? It is but playing, and she will not care,A little, passionately, not at all! She would not answer us if we should call Across the years: her visions are too fair;And what care we how many petals fall! She knows us not, nor recks if she Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-38398870045029856262009-02-05T17:31:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.364-05:00Villanelle of SunsetCome hither, Child! and rest:This is the end of day,Behold the weary West!Sleep rounds with equal zestMan's toil and children's play;Come hither, Child! and rest.My white bird, seek thy nest,Thy drooping head down lay:Behold the weary West!Now are the flowers confestOf slumber: sleep, as they!Come hither, Child! and rest.Now eve is manifest,And homeward lies our way:Behold the weary West!Tired Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-66748857931330234212009-02-05T17:27:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.401-05:00Villanelle of AcheronBy the pale marge of Acheron,Methinks we shall pass restfully,Beyond the scope of any sun.There all men hie them one by one,Far from the stress of earth and sea,By the pale marge of Acheron.’Tis well when life and love is done,’Tis very well at last to be,Beyond the scope of any sun.No busy voices there shall stunOur ears: the stream flows silentlyBy the pale marge of Acheron.There is the crown Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-8139079365890243632009-02-05T17:24:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.438-05:00Villanelle of His Lady's TreasuresI took her dainty eyes, as wellAs silken tendrils of her hair:And so I made a Villanelle!I took her voice, a silver bell,As clear as song, as soft as prayer;I took her dainty eyes as well.It may be, said I, who can tell,These things shall be my less despair?And so I made a Villanelle!I took her whiteness virginalAnd from her cheek two roses rare:I took her dainty eyes as well.I said: 'It may be Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-81906310341122916882009-02-05T17:21:00.000-05:002010-01-31T00:47:08.301-05:00Villanelle of the Poets' RoadWine and woman and song,Three things garnish our way:Yet is day over long.Lest we do our youth wrong,Gather them while we may:Wine and woman and song.Three things render us strong,Vine leaves, kisses and bay;Yet is day over long.Unto us they belong,Us the bitter and gay,Wine and woman and song.We, as we pass along,Are sad that they will not stay;Yet is day over long.Fruits and flowers among,What Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-29892398102082207602009-02-03T21:28:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.512-05:00one doesn't know the fire till it burnsone doesn't know the fire till it burnssurrounded by the lapping flaming searelief's not found no matter where he turnslike stiff rejection of a love who spurnswon't give a second chance though hard you pleaone doesn't know the fire till it burnsa lover's loss, so maddening it churnsyet cannot sentence one as death's decreerelief's not found no matter where he turnsto find the one he's lost for Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-30856170862562971082009-01-30T20:24:00.002-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.552-05:00the hearts of girls are loyal to degreesthe hearts of girls are loyal to degrees
and pledged forever solely for the hype
as long as loyalty returns to please
their vows are made with most simplistic ease
their ears are deaf to all contrary gripes
the hearts of girls are loyal to degrees
though vowed so unconditional, the fees
will come conditional till ripe
as long as loyalty returns to please
yet otherwise no begging pleas of Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-60843326758057100122009-01-30T20:11:00.002-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.590-05:00my manager, she chooses favoritesmy manager, she chooses favorites
and I the newbie wasn't what she wanted
she'd rather rule a roost of favored tits
she hired me, it seems to pass the bits
of little time before she'd have me punted
my manager, she chooses favorites
I almost passed the gas ball flavored shits
when I had got the call that I was bunted
she'd rather rule a roost of favored tits
and pussy-whipped young cuckold Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-63603021903321432032009-01-29T08:05:00.006-05:002010-01-31T01:08:44.873-05:00The Honey Farmer's Bane (A Villanelle)Oh love, only a fool would possess thee,
You are a deceitful trickster, old and wise
Amidst thy robes of splendor are barbs, which make the bravest flee.
Oh sweet, sweet love, you can be likened to Eve's tree,
When you are partaken of, one's freedom inevitably dies.
Oh love, only a fool would possess thee.
You, my desperate companion, are like a rose, dressed beautifully,
Yet your source is Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-19936237431077025972009-01-25T02:30:00.001-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.667-05:00what was could only be what is to mehow could what is become what was to bea living thing remarkably uniquewhat was could only be what is to mefor how could one who is so good not beafter the thought patterns released in speakhow could what is become what was to beso full of life with zest and flown so freecut short in half and hid from where I seekwhat was could only be what is to meimpossible to not be what he'd beto be a not-be,Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-10127267052611219452009-01-22T18:40:00.004-05:002010-01-31T00:43:45.212-05:00Trial by FogEnclosed inside the intimacy of mistOur visibility’s but fifty feet.Beyond this bubble we do not exist.The road is perilous. It turns and twistsAs if its narrowing shoulders have to meetEnclosed inside the intimacy of mist.I want to scream, I want to raise my fistAnd curse the small circumference of our light.Beyond this bubble we do not exist.This driving makes me itch. I should desist.We have Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-36689412503306749342009-01-19T16:47:00.002-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.784-05:00Take (your) HeartIf home is where our hearts reside,Where life sits still on windowsills,Then where’s the heart when home has died?Our lives are cattle, roped and tied;Our souls the reaper’s larder fills,If home is where our hearts reside.When winter’s wasting winds decideTo blow through walls and bring in ills,Then where’s the heart when home has died?The heart from hearth must be untiedBefore the rime of time Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-45215163029158311512009-01-17T22:46:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.838-05:00my soul is buried under snowmy soul is buried under snow,
and grass and dirt that's piled so high,
beneath where every man must go,
under the dirt that will not show
the wooden box where hushed he lies,
my soul is buried under snow
within the wood, and though I know
he cannot feel that chill, I cry,
beneath where every man must go,
when one no longer shrinks or grows,
he rests and shrinks away his eyes,
my soul is buriedChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-69357372758213216472009-01-12T21:29:00.001-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.875-05:00be careful what you say, my friend, be careful what you saybe careful what you say, my friend, be careful what you say,it doesn't help to close the door behind you any more,the shadows see and hear all things, they always have a way,the birds upon the twigs and branches of the trees that sway,they watch like owls in silent stares each falling seed and spore,be careful what you say, my friend, be careful what you say,the spiders know to read, and read Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-84330819489633490252009-01-12T02:17:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.914-05:00at twelve we played under the summer sunat twelve we played under the summer sun
four girls and I, ten eyes so wide that shined
at forty-two what she recalls is none
four girls and I, I fell in love with one
whose curly hair around my heart did bind
at twelve we played under the summer sun
and in remaining days my mind did run
around her eyes and soft, full lips--rewind!
at forty-two what she recalls is none
with mind's eye I could Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-89857934208352930072009-01-06T23:08:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:58.958-05:00let's run again before we have to leavelet's run again before we have to leave
let's take the time to do just this one thing
our time is very short, you must believe
to run our hearts will beat, we'll have to breathe
and life will course through veins, and lungs will ring
let's run again before we have to leave
let's run and wear our hearts upon a sleeve
and tie our hearts together with some string
our time is very short, you must Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-13410720976424531302009-01-06T16:06:00.000-05:002010-01-31T00:53:48.885-05:00A Winter StormThe snow had fallen fast and coldUpon the advent of the nightFor men and women young and old.This bitter day had been foretold--The weather-man got this one right:The snow had fallen fast and coldAnd wind had gusted uncontrolled.The people shut themselves up tight,For men and women young and old,Afraid to be both brave and bold,Did not desire to face the fright.The snow had fallen fast and Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-27836665758896421682009-01-04T21:07:00.001-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.038-05:00driftwood carried by the wavesold ship sunken to its graveplank is all of its remainsdriftwood carried by the wavesproud old liner mighty braveoil spill bloody spots of stainsold ship sunken to its graveremnant could not just be savedscreams aboard were bathed in paindriftwood carried by the wavescracked in half, its hull was shavedtook on agony in strainold ship sunken to its gravesuper hull was all the ravemet its match Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-278188500732656182009-01-04T18:38:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.083-05:00there's something 'bout jazz musicthere's something 'bout jazz music, fills the eye
with thoughts of woodwinds brass and smoky dives
where clubs and streets meet moonlight in the sky
the music notes, arpeggio, they fly
with drinks around, the smoky mood arrives
there's something 'bout jazz music, fills the eye
the New York nightlife entertains the eye
past midnight, sewer smoke floats up alive
where clubs and streets meet Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-36265453236163939172009-01-02T23:20:00.001-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.121-05:00dear Stavro, we all painfully do miss youdear Stavro, we all painfully do miss you,arms still reaching out to grab a hold,now only through your pictures can we kiss you,yet celluloid will not transfer the kiss, youare too far away and we are cold,dear Stavro, we all painfully do miss you,our hearts outpouring blood-love from our bliss, youare the center-void, we age, grow old,now only through your pictures can we kiss you,though we wrapChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-49043006208449621472009-01-01T22:16:00.004-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.158-05:00all flesh and things are vanityall flesh and things are vanitythey come and then they gowhile holding them's insanityso fleeting this humanitythat claims that it can knowall flesh and things are vanitywith wisdom all's profanitythat dares to stay and growwhile holding them's insanityall eyes do drink depravitythat watch the earthly showall flesh and things are vanityfall into graves by gravityare mocked by passing crowswhile Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-38195598648720280622009-01-01T22:00:00.000-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.197-05:00oh all are slain except the one who slaysoh all are slain except the one who slays
for more are born that must be put to death
the slain move on, the slayer always stays
oh neither gazer nor the man who prays
could spend eternity moving his breath
oh all are slain except the one who slays
for who would usher out from nature's plays
the sons of Adam, Cain, Abel and Seth?
the slain move on, the slayer always stays
the crusty few who'veChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-34624119225929905662009-01-01T18:00:00.023-05:002010-01-31T01:01:36.319-05:00ForeverWithin my heart there is a special place;it's filled with light and memories of you,though we were never meant to win the race.I still can hear your voice and see your face,although we've both accepted that we're through;within my heart, there is that special place.I'll never be successful to erasethe treasured joy and laughter we accrued,though we were never meant to win the race.Some days, I Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-4968750628060966482009-01-01T18:00:00.022-05:002010-01-31T01:09:09.031-05:00These LooksOld looks, new looks, lost and forgotten,Deserted gardens where wishes can't be foundAre places in the heart, plausible though misbegotten.Remembering a sandy beach we walked whenThe eyes of love shared in an impromptu romp, roundOld looks, new looks, lost and forgotten.There are no words left to write or speak whenThe look of love has left the stage iracund,And places in the heart, plausible Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-14891997093398793702009-01-01T18:00:00.021-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.308-05:00ZeteticPast experience tells me I should forgetYet there are things we should rememberBut not the times of blood, tears and sweat.And mans stupidity and greed lingers yetBut this is all laid aside each NovemberPast experience tells me I should forgetThat I was not there, I do not regretAnd yet am proud to be called diggerBut not the times of blood, tears and sweat.There are memories of a shared Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-6543761835388524272009-01-01T18:00:00.020-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.345-05:00Zeehan SunsetsI see no auras or bright flashes from the sunAll I see is a red glow across the land,Merely signs that night has at last begun.In the mountains in the east life is doneAs the blackness of night starts to expandI see no auras or bright flashes from the sunThe magnificent scene bows to what has comeDarkness hiding what is "Tasmania's grand"Merely signs that night has at last begun.The world most Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-21903430074946963912009-01-01T18:00:00.019-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.383-05:00Victims RollOnce we were lovers, now that love has goneReplaced by nothing, just leaving a black holeWhy can't you come back so we can carry on?I always knew that I was your only oneWe grew to believe we shared just one soulOnce we were lovers, now that love has gone.Now all those dreams I must forever abandonThis one evil act has taken us out of controlWhy can't you come back so we can carry on?This ungodlyChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-53865489378016633092009-01-01T18:00:00.018-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.422-05:00Prisoner of LoveLike a prisoner you have me bound to youBut not with chains of hard blue steelNo counting days and weeks till freedom due.There was no crime, or deed, or whistle blewThere are no prison bars, my hands to feelLike a prisoner you have me bound to you.Instead its bonds of love that the angels brewA wound from Cupid's dart that will not healNo counting days and weeks till freedom due.No fear of Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-64106166461196914952009-01-01T18:00:00.017-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.459-05:00Only Time Will TellLove's waiting across the room for that first look,The first smile, and the first tremor that says it allThat moment realising you're completely hooked.There have been no guidelines set in any bookThere is no mentor waiting for you to callLove's waiting across the room for that first look.Facebook tells you the site is always fully bookedAnd those that have found it can easily recallThat moment Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-20406187737790323382009-01-01T18:00:00.016-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.497-05:00Oceanic ThoughtsSitting on the empty beach alone on the sand,There is the orange fire sky of the setting sunInside's a desire for my lover in another land.Things went perfect, better than we had planned,No regrets at all for what we have begunSitting on the empty beach alone on the sand.The water rushes in and out greeting my hand.And I remember kisses and things we'd doneInside's a desire for my lover in Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-56484025297472443542009-01-01T18:00:00.015-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.536-05:00NatureAll things were given to man and his conceitTo live in simple ways upon this EarthSomewhere to live and an abundance to eat.Living as one with the Earth, a simple featFeeding, nourishing, finding out life's worthAll things were given to man and his conceitThe ancients never had need to steal or cheatThe bosom of Nature is a bountiful berthSomewhere to live and an abundance to eat.Some want a Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-3788212425323234702009-01-01T18:00:00.014-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.576-05:00Left Counting the StarsNow is the time for tears, no more loud hurrahsYou are gone; my bed is now empty and silent.With the death of love, I'm left counting the stars.When our love was new we had no scarsWith time and self doubt you missed what I meant.Now is the time for tears, no more loud hurrahsNow you have turned your back and put up barsAnd all that remains now of you is your scent.With the death of love, I'm Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-4453533971452892182009-01-01T18:00:00.013-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.616-05:00Full Moons LightAs I lead you by the hand into the nightWe steal away from the cares of the dayOur way is well lit by the full moons light.Our hearts sure what we're doing is rightAnd of tomorrows woe's no hint give theyAs I lead you by the hand into the night.The shadowy flutter of an owl in flightLeads us happily along the wooded wayOur way is well lit by the full moons light.I gaze at you, seeing eyes that Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-21640502551548868272009-01-01T18:00:00.012-05:002010-01-31T01:00:14.189-05:00Darkness LoomsWhen darkness looms, tomorrow fades awayNo comforting light shines upon or withinIt's hard to see beyond this part of day.Tonight only foulest evil shall hold swayAnd blackest night shall pave the way for sinWhen darkness looms, tomorrow fades away.Deep in the night is when the wicked playFixating on sorrow's gruelling tailspinIt's hard to see beyond this part of day.Around this corruption purestChrisnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735699693175192547.post-42095795492314876352009-01-01T18:00:00.011-05:002010-01-30T16:05:59.824-05:00Heavy on the VineNow grapes are hanging heavy on the vine,in valleys neath the blazing summer sun.and senses yearn to savour fragrant wineAll thoughts are lost and memories resign,as dreams recall a time of loving fun,when grapes were hanging heavy on the vineFor love has flown beyond the mortal line,but feelings say we are forever one,and senses yearn to savour fragrant wineEach night I sleep and find that love Chrisnoreply@blogger.com0