Cursed or Not

[anirbas]

Despair deep as a kingdom
fallen asleep through cursing
Spiders weave webs with aplomb
in corners of deep thinking

Somnambulant memories
sleepwalk through the consciousness
Leaving smoldering chaos
in their meandering wakes

Ah but then the moon rises
a Celestial Empress
Glowing stars her retinue
Darkness flees in Luna's light

I look about the night hugs
the plain corners of my house
My kingdom I bite the lime
swig a shot of tequila

Marveling at the beautiful
humans sleeping sweet dreaming
Possibly snoring inside
they are my reason to live

Therefore cursed or not I do

[artolmaeus]

after my death, I was fortunate to see how I lived
and the report has come back clear, I was not a good man
then, no one gives an epitath, oh, sure, they write it and what not
but who shall really receive it
oh shall I be memories
as little time hath anyone for rembrance
or to give too much consideration to Rembrandt
and those magnificent thin layers so formed
once past myself, there was little to speak of
except for everyone else
and how they formed something good from a dark being
love met with cruelty, love met with pretense
love oh how it is believed to have been all that intense
moreover for all that was done, to be all whitewashed
shimmied and shined and to make so much sense
for a corpse I have no rest, no wake and no visitation
once broken from the form, you are free to move about in time
as really the dream you wake from is what we call life
but maybe everyone else was quite engaged
then, I am awake, happy with regret
joy in lament
because the universe gave me understanding
once I got out of the way
somewhere this is some pawned item
being resold and carried around
like a posable figure and silence
allows those lessons you could not have
when alive and living, you were too much clamor and fury
the forge of the tempest and all its borders dry and melted
how funny forgiveness, like a unicorn
or a singing frog,
you drive me wild, my heart's on fire
abuse me, lose me, wherever there needed to be a me
that need is washed like a clean park bench
covered in pigeons
for when I stand or find myself in the miracle of being
being at all, it is the silence I have
that lets me hear and see and feel
all I could not before
it is now.why I endure
oh there is repentance
there is so much
but no hope for rapture
no desire for eternity or not
just now, now is enough
and though the world had tooich of me
I am just now seeing all I missed along the way
and in some way, in this animated shadow box
I am fixing all those burned bridges
never having them to test again
all things, all people,
lessons, lament, learning
and with sunlight upon my face
From a window so nearby
glimpses of a blue sky
of a sky in all it's paces
let the calliope repeat itself
wind wind wind me up
for I have left the circles.behind
and have gone nowhere with nothing
and little else matters
neither cursed nor blessed
nor forgiven nor any of it
guilty and understanding
the nature of being "not"
it is certanly far from nothing
so far, that it's alot

[artolmaeus]

after my death, I was fortunate to see how I lived
and the report has come back clear, I was not a good man
then, no one gives an epitath, oh, sure, they write it and what not
but who shall really receive it
oh shall I be memories
as little time hath anyone for rembrance
or to give too much consideration to Rembrandt
and those magnificent thin layers so formed
once past myself, there was little to speak of
except for everyone else
and how they formed something good from a dark being
love met with cruelty, love met with pretense
love oh how it is believed to have been all that intense
moreover for all that was done, to be all whitewashed
shimmied and shined and to make so much sense
for a corpse I have no rest, no wake and no visitation
once broken from the form, you are free to move about in time
as really the dream you wake from is what we call life
but maybe everyone else was quite engaged
then, I am awake, happy with regret
joy in lament
because the universe gave me understanding
once I got out of the way
somewhere this is some pawned item
being resold and carried around
like a posable figure and silence
allows those lessons you could not have
when alive and living, you were too much clamor and fury
the forge of the tempest and all its borders dry and melted
how funny forgiveness, like a unicorn
or a singing frog,
you drive me wild, my heart's on fire
abuse me, lose me, wherever there needed to be a me
that need is washed like a clean park bench
covered in pigeons
for when I stand or find myself in the miracle of being
being at all, it is the silence I have
that lets me hear and see and feel
all I could not before
it is now.why I endure
oh there is repentance
there is so much
but no hope for rapture
no desire for eternity or not
just now, now is enough
and though the world had too much of me
I am just now seeing all I missed along the way
and in some way, in this animated shadow box
I am fixing all those burned bridges
never having them to test again
all things, all people,
lessons, lament, learning
and with sunlight upon my face
From a window so nearby
glimpses of a blue sky
of a sky in all it's paces
let the calliope repeat itself
wind wind wind me up
for I have left the circles.behind
and have gone nowhere with nothing
and little else matters
neither cursed nor blessed
nor forgiven nor any of it
guilty and understanding
the nature of being "not"
it is certanly far from nothing
so far, that it's alot

to know I am not wiser
or even get it, still
and yet, these are the lessons
lessons I have waited for
posthumously