An Indecent Approach to Antipathy

I fell in love with a bird once,

She was fine as Ravens even speak.

Hair on fire, flowing to no end

The highway is my maiden,

The Earth is my friend.

Burnt out of emeralds built from desire

I build my womb on another type of fire

I was alone once, then I could see

Now I am complete in drunken ecstasy.

II

"Dig my words woman!"

"They are my fire."

"When I speak, it is only from desire."

"Don't leave me blank as then I cannot see."

Follow me down,"

"That's where I like to be."

III

To this vision, is only desire.

For weeds can grow but never prosper.

Amidst my mind is burdened sleek.

As I awake, as I sleep.

Division can last until no end.

And unity is bound by weak friends.

I offer no hope to those who wish.

I am no demon to friendless fish.

Dig this pattern deep into ground,

As I seek airless shadows in my sound.

Fixed to boneless cardinal tombs,

I watch loveless battlefields bloom.

IV

Birds may wander, birds may seek,

But my love launders in the street.

I dig patterns and she collects,

I seek freedom and she regrets.

So is my way to sound the call,

To me seeming frivolous to end it all.

Such is my way to the deep,

Where listless maidens now may sleep

Upon bones of ruin, tearless flesh,

Together our destiny now may mesh.

Inside seething worms can breed,

I burn bright but once, then lose my seed.

V

This death is supple in content

And we will not prevail

For distance cannot dig what close can find.

So with wordless rhapsodies we unwind

A vision of glory that remains undefined.

In hell...we call this lust a burn

In heaven...we dig this lesson learned.

VI

I feel this thing about and cannot seek the terms...

Without wondering.

As vision is as vision does,

Worries not about what is or never was.

So I speak! From pain!

To describe what it is I seek.

I do not know, for it does not speak.

From earthen fires I write...

And wreak hell!

VII

To those who understand help

I need your hand.

As it is, I wallow amidst a lonely fire.

I can only see what isn't there for me,

So I travel a loners road, to a tombstone

Grey...and cold, and a destiny, that with

Perseverance may still unfold.

To define a rulers book,

To escape a loners look.

VIII

An epiphany brings forth hurt,

Only songs may completely heal

Helping bring forth form and substance,

to that, which is unreal.

A cacophony of thoughts with which

My heart may then congeal.

Upon many roads of wisdom

Paved with broken glass.

A bird may then fly forth

A love that can everlast...