A man must come to the desperate edge of the walls hes built around himself and beat with his hands on the cold hard stone and cry for the years that hes been alone and break like a dry dead twig under the wheel of time and rise and live and understand the power of love in his masters hand round and round the coffins edge the landlords of despair dance to the mortal earth and bow to the mortal earth a strange mistress a strange mother tell me, which of your magics can conquer death? What is the meaning? What lies hidden in the cell? from a dark barred window I have watched the moon rise and ghost horses bear the dead into the moons wide mouth eater of souls jailor, tailor and seamstress to the shadow-land forever weaving the envelopes in which to stuff another drunken puppet this is more true than blue eyes and all the sculptured tits that have been since cannot nurse the dead back to life who goes there? who beats the drum? Where sleeps the heart? That Mona Lisa smile under glass No one really laughs or lives until the day their darkness dies and few live then they only return again drunken with dreams I do not think I will take upon myself the chains of Hell even for such a thing as your blue eyes and perfect teeth the dark wet hollow of reincarnated sleep never to wake again? No... this cannot be all of it and I am either drunk or mad I believe in what I cannot see I believe more deeply than I have ever been deceived and even then only temporarily deceived and even then only out of fear if a man should confess or witness with his heart that will shape the words he speaks that will shape the life he leads he will have a witness he will not go down like a beast to the grave there is no liberation in movements there is seldom even change so... must I then fear to displease the revolutions of my time? let history deny or philosophy prove the lie of my words Liberte... Egalite... Fraternite... these are always the phrases with which to preface great murders in my heart I have killed a thousand times all the great hypocrites of the age I have slain in my thoughts and they are no more dead than before I killed them and they are no more alive by the same token they have never been alive they go to the moon without my help let sleeping dogs lie lest they... the knife hangs over every head until God removes it I am no executioner anymore I will sit on this rock and listen Can you hear the rock on which he built it speaking? Who listens deeply forgets he forgets his earthborn name his birth he forgets and his shame the world forgets him he goes where no one knows who listens deeply a new name no one can speak it you have been on the road a long time you have been sleeping with swine and drunk on bad wine and blue eyes close as all eyes close and every color goes to shades of grey in the cold vault that is a kind of equality and yet you do not know that what you are is brighter than the brightest star nothing is so great as what you are A man must come to the desperate edge of the walls hes built around himself and beat with his hands on the cold hard stone and cry for the years than hes been alone and break like a dry dead twig under the wheel of time and rise and live and understand the power of Love in his masters hand https://youtube/watch?v=ENs7SNnCG8s
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 18:39:48 +0000
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