stonedsour's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In The Sand

Our massive golden graveyard

picketed with pockets of sailboats

jutting out of the blue yonder.

Bastion of soft spoken contemplation.

The brooding evocation of the

tidal waves climbing up

into our sockets,

the prominence of

that be-fitting tone

of fortuity chronic

in our voices.

I am the bastard

son of guilt, and

am compulsively

sorry, again and again.

Bless your nod of

dignified resignation.

Bless it, for it does

not hold surrender.

Perfection is but

a moment, hardly

forever...must

I settle for what

is so unsettling;

are we constantly

riding the crest

of a bitter-sweet

revelation?

...There it is in our shoes,

...and again in our eyes.

...A wavering emotional landfill

...dumped on a million mounds

of mankinds unspoiled Erewhon.

Head and Hearts In The Sand...

We will scatter the cinders

of our unity, to the whistling wind;

and it will blow it back

in our shimmering faces.

2:34 p.m. - 2004-05-22

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next