by Forest Wayne
Now he's bonkers, insane I say.
You must write to us more,
dear Orpheus.
II
Today I met two bearded maidens.
I couldn't tell if they were men
or if Apollo sent them to chase me.
Is it that time of the year when
madness comes upon me.
My ballads are written only for Virgins who sit
steadfastly at my door every morning, waiting for my songs.
But no more.
From this day
I will write poems no one will ever read.
Not until my death, will these words
fall from your lips.
I Am
I am the lover of lost souls,
the faun that cast the dust.
I am the air that brings the morning, and the night that takes it away.
All the love that I've had, I spent it on the night and her creatures.
I am to be what men hold sacred, a single feather from the wings of a fallen angel.
God in a bottle
A man sat down
by the bar, with a bottle of
whiskey.
And while the angels sang
he listened
to the preaching’s
of a crooked bartender;
whose nights were filled with drunk forgotten days,
and he knew
for the first time,
that he
never felt more
close to god.
On the ship of Theseus
I'm only a fragment of who
I once was.
Lost in the pieces of a futile recreation
From parts that would never align.
The myth of the phoenix will never tell you;
Only an abomination rises from the ashes.
I have risen but not as me.
I am no longer the boy touched by Theseus.
Venus & The Poet
The young poet
fell for Venus,
and he wrote her his
letters.
She a fine dainty mademoiselle,
made of beauty and grace, goddess of Love.
And so he worshipped her with flowers and utter
devotion.
And with the words of his tongue, he spoke of her
loveliness to friends and foe.
He needed the people to be jealous of what he found
"I will show her off to the world," he said.
And that's how the story begins.
With love, a young fool and a goddess to adore.
A Shadow To Your Existence
Was I to you,
a flickering light that flashes.
Doomed to be forgotten in transience.
times like this, I find myself dreaming never to be
woken, unwilling to face the world.
The world.
This town.
Everything is just fake,
but they all try desperately to be real,
and at some point everything just falls apart like a puppet show.
We try so hard to forget that the world is broken, we are broken.
We do human stuff, like we are humans,
we play with kids and we laugh at jokes,
all to stop ourselves from crying.
We are all looking for something to believe in,
so we can maybe feel real again.
I tried, I tried so hard.
But every part of my broken part just kept falling off.
I know I can never be whole
but damn I try.
PART 4
A Chapter For Us
"Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow
But others say we've got a week or two
The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror
And you sit wondering
what you're gonna do.
I got it.
Come. And be my baby."
—Maya Angelou
Dawn
In the morning there's a sound that touches the air.
It's the light of the day, falling so quietly you could
almost glare.
Darkness is lifting its spirit from the earth.
Ra has risen from his slumber in rebirth.
And birds flock to see the morning air, amidst the hail
of heavenly dew.
As the moon begins to fade from the earthly blue.
The morning begins to fall on us, dear.
falling slowly from the rear.
Drunk in love
Dear, dear, dear I must say.
I loved you once, and once I bade your demons to
come my way.
But what is there to say.
That only if I must these words I shall pay.
For my heart and soul is set to sail.
Across your soul with barrels and barrels of ale.
Paradox
I had a heart full of gold but yet too poor with nothing
to give.
You loved me too much, with everything to give.
But are we not a paradox of things, my dear.
For when you become too cold,
I will hold nothing but heat, to keep you warm,
and that is why our souls were made to intertwine.
The Things We Do For Love.
Love, you thought me,
the thing around my chest to protect.
And it was not death that gives life its meaning, but a
single touch of love,
as you said was enough to alter the souls
of even the strangest of people.
And even when we knew that the universe was too
small for a love like ours to exhale.
You would say this because, no matter where we were,
you would always find me.
Whether lost in the depths of Andromeda,
or hidden away, within the belts of Pleiades you
would always come for me.
Magic
You've bound me to you by a spell,
and It seems quite unbreakable.
The thought of you has ravaged my mind
And you have taken my poor heart hostage,
and it does not wish to be set free.
You can either have me or consume me.
But please do not give me away.
Go on and tell other men that I'm yours to hold,
yours to love, and yours to keep.
Tell them our love is witchcraft
and magic like they've never seen.
My Dreams
I hope to never forget you.
I hope I'll dream of you even in the daytime.
The thought of your body against mine is irresistible,
And as we walk through these fields
I say something too naive,
and you'll laugh, you know I'm a fool.
You know my intentions before I stutter a single
word.
But we are a long way from friends, not even lovers.
But our souls are so acquainted you could read out
my stories from your palm.
And I knew you before you blossomed into a flower.
The last American light
I stare at the stars from an old abandoned
observatory.
Watching the sky,
as big dipper sits brightly in the night.
Stay a voice whispers.
Is it mine or is it yours?
From the horizon, a bright fire burns far away,
a thousand years from where I am.
I can see it burning.
The world is aflame, but I don't care.
And as much as it mattered, to everyone else
I could not.
All I could think about was you, far away somewhere,
smoking a cigarette as the world burns.
Yet I wonder if somewhere beyond these walls,
t
here's a place for us, far away for creatures like you
and I
amidst the rubbles of our broken world.
The Dance Of Flesh And Bones
Thus far flesh and bones we are.
To make due of this divinity,
for time and time
before we shuffle off our mortal coil.
Hastily and in rhythm.
Above the noise of immortal angels.
My beautiful girl
you are the sweet taste of light at the edge of the darkness.
My world would be nothing without you.
Atlas
I'd hate to see you walk alone
when the world has fallen into Armageddon.
Where are all your angels?
Who is to protect you in this wasteland?
Even if all the angels should fall,
I'd do for you
what devils do for sinners.
Like Atlas holding up your world
until my hands give in to mortal aches,
and my back is hunched from the pain.
But yet, never letting go.
Your love will be the only redemption for this devil.
Dear, you,
my dear beautiful incandescent firefly-souled-you.
Dear nocturnal creature who keeps me waiting, and
staring at the night sky;
I've stayed up, a 100 night
hoping you'd drop from a falling star.
A star that would bring you to me.
Together we'd be like birds chirping
flying in the wind.
With the air bringing us together
because we flew, unafraid to fall.
Dabbling The Ineffable
"Sad" is what I see when I see you.
It comes in colors, but fades in sounds.
I think it's something between a "goodbye" and an
"I'm sorry I hurt you".
But who knows, feelings are hard to describe.
Sometimes it's clear, like a simple aha moment; when
I knew you liked me.
And other times it's hard, like when I couldn't find
anything to say to you, and I end up being unbearably
and overtly shallow like a kiddie pool.
And right then, the only words on my mind were; you
are the only poem I had dreamed of writing but I got
stuck somewhere between the thought of you and
picking up a quill.
It would surely be unfortunate when the moment
comes and I am frozen in it unable to move,
cause I was anxious from overthinking
something so simple as love.
Wild
Last night we shot a silver hook onto the stars,
and right then I saw a fire lit in your eyes.
Like we could be safe even if we fell
From this terrible height.
You are 12, and there's a girl
you like.
From her lips you can see stars falling,
and every time you try to catch them, she just won't let you.
And the story goes; that you stumbled home crying, love-struck and unrequited.
She's special.
She's like a song from the sirens,
or a name engraved on me, like on a tombstone.
We are inseparable, but in the way the bodies of dead poets remains lost forever in the sea.
Love's Spectrum
The colors of our beautiful and sometimes tragic love can never be quite captured.
It's the shining red arrows in Cupid's quiver.
It's the yellowish-red flame Prometheus stole for humanity,
the purple passion shared by Thisbe and her tragic lover Pyramus.
It's the soft kisses of life Pygmalion breath into the marble skin of his dear Galatea.
We do all this, and so much for love.