circumlocutory love song

My heart is more enlightened and engaged

Simply from knowing the beauteous of your name

As so the sky shall rain upon the fields and seas

my notions of love shall be placed upon thee

for what is it to be if not to be complete

and the completion of my soul is set upon

my praises that I have laid upon your door

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the one eludes the ninety-nine

A singularity that solely exists

To give hope or delusion to the masses

how my heart cried to you

And how I praised you to be

My soul lavished in your name

And my mind was never the same

Yet I found your children to be unforgiving

And the pretentions of righteousness

That they held and preached upon

Were far too great for my demurred spirit

To live up to, I hope to meet you some day

Yet I feel it will be through my own terms;

my god is a god of creative and humanity

And I hope he sees that in me, and not the

Blind worshiper of whom I was led to be

and so I confess: as I drown in the deep

I desire the worship of your praises

To be the ideals of your dreams

I wish that you saw me as I crept

Every glance you gaze away I cry

Your name is the ethic of my sect

Every step upon the ground I exalt

You are the sulfur of my tears

My secret disciple and high priest

I pant for the day I confess to thee

And all the stars of Ulysses shall align

And in harmony you shall be mine

then my soul repeats

As willow limbs in the wind

So sways my soul

And my heart beats

Like determined waves

upon the shore

endless are the hours

of which I ponder

depthless is the love

of which I have squandered

the thief beckons to be invited

and so should I let him

yet I feel he’ll find his own way in

and all my memories

will begin again

seamless is the night

which does not end

poignant are the words

that have no kin,

my heart and my soul

are each other’s mortal sins

copacetic: or morsels of poems I fail to complete

Waning youth seems as though

An allegory for demise

Or a fable for the institution of birth

Yet so turbulent and tragic going through

Yet retrospect it seems so copacetic

 

Dear my friend does it not seem so poetic

That it is in the aberrations of life’s norms

In which we find hope and reasons to love

 

Your beauty neither wanes nor hesitates to persist

It is as an unbearable sunny day in which I find no peace

Yet I am stoned with emotions I soon not forget

my soul’s shadow

this reality seems so falsely augmented

as though we were not meant to reach

such a hollow representation of existence

yet that such a pseudo pretence of being

seems all so justified to be based on the fact

that such magnificence as yourself seems to be

you’re my platonic soul mate, my imaginary best friend

my muse and my recompense for life’s wrong doing

rural nocturne suite

the summer set in the endless sky

the waning warmth of maturing days

eludes the evening as the cool breeze

gently blows upon the serenading crickets

as the lightening bugs illuminate in thin air

the distant sound of the busy highway

sounds more like the graveyards it passes

and the sky lights up with the milky way in whole

it’s so hard to sleep when rural nocturne suite

plays sublimely from your front porch