![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tyggerjaiIt's a winter thing, I think, a struggling against the season of death and darkness.
Kaya - big little sister - who has emptied your eyes? Who has decreed you will no longer see, save that which he shall choose? Wild little sister, I remember the fire I thought could never be quenched, for you passed it on to me, through the burning in your belly and your thighs. It used to light your starburst eyes, the life within was given birth in all you told whoever listened. I wonder now where all those words of power lodged - some in my heart and soul, of course, but somewhere someone took them all, and never thought he should perhaps replace them with inspiration of his own. And so a soul retreats, so a woman once a guide has lost her own way to a man who is not even travelling. Kaya - big little sister - if my words will bring you home, then I gladly spend them here, for no coin is worth enough to be so jealously hoarded for any purchase but your freedom...
* * *
Tomorrow I will not be honest.
And today I was not true.
And yesterday I just kept hiding
Little things from you.
Little things like love and joy,
And pain and truth and fear.
Would you listen if I told you?
Would you even hear?
Masks that hide the empty spaces
Where our hearts used to be.
Every time we add a bandage,
We get that little bit less free. [0]
Sometimes I wish you'd look my way
But then I fear that I might see,
In those soulless windows you call eyes
Myself looking back at me.
So tomorrow I will not be honest,
And today I was not true....
* * *
I walked a thousand roads to find a love I could not touch.
I walked a million miles to test a love I could not feel
I read within a thousand books of love that's strong and true.
I found a million images of lovers young and free
I held a thousand parachutes that tied me to the ground.
I wrapped a million chains around a heart that could not fly
I knew a thousand faces that vanished in the crowd.
I kissed a million fingers that only ever had one hand.
And I had always thought that I could do this on my own.
But now I see you standing there, take me by the hand and let me learn. [1]
* * *
How many times have I done this? Plaited fresh travelling feathers through my hair and walked away? I'll leave you my old ones - perhaps you will find wings for them some day. "Move over sun and give me some sky, I have found some wings and am learning to...". In all the time I had that written on this wall, I never noticed that you had finished the line. I always thought you had left it open, but now I see it ends in the blazing sun. I had thought the word was a pattern - now I see the pattern is a word. out of date love letters, tied together with a red ribbon. I found it again, washing the jeans we bought, so I tied it around your letters. Do love letters go out of date? I see you shake your head. "I never say goodbye...". Time and change, time and change. The red has faded, the edges frayed. Every time I untie it to read your past posted pain, it gets a little harder to tie back on. One day, perhaps, it will be impossible, and what, I wonder, will I do then?
* * *
(Fragments)
(I will sing you my sister's porch song, told to me over blue coffees and blood-red moons in the endless evenings of the years we were ten feet tall. I will sing you my brother's porch song, a song of love, a song of solitude, a song of days filled with Whiskey and heartache.)
On summer's longest days, a story comes to me, from long ago and far away; Whiskey's porch-song, a song of love and betrayal, joy and pain. I remember days when our love held fast in the face of any challenge, when our two hearts beat as one, and we wore each other's feathers with firce pride and in gentle harmony. I remember the day we sat in a cafe for eight hours, watching lives and stories unfold before us, tasting the Universe's richest patterns. I remember the night we held a pool table against all comers for six hours, feeling the power of hatred and envy in those we defeated time after time after time. And I remember our short lived child ....
* * *
_This Lifeboat is Full_
Well she was looking for a ticket to Elsewhere,
Thought she'd found it in a love she'd never known.
But soon she realised that all she needed
Was just something so she didn't feel alone.
And some of us have spent a lonely lifetime
Sailing oceans of love and fear and trust.
And some of us have spent so many years
Kneeling, humbled in the dust.
But she just kept on scrambling,
From one lifeboat to the next
And as I watched her sail away,
I could have sworn I heard her say
This Life boat is full.
Well she floated with the current,
Longing for the safety of the shore
And she never knew just what to tell them
When people asked "What are you searching for?"
The river emptied in the sea,
She's somewhere out between the land and sky
And the only way that I could think to find her
Was finally grow some wings and learn to fly.... [2]
* * *
Eh. I was, indeed, an angsty goth in my younger days. That's enough of that, I think.
Tho' there's more here, if you're into that sort of thing. It's even more angsty goth, though, and most of it ten years old. There are some fragments I'm quite proud of, though. Even if they are "too purple and redundantly metaphysical"... ;)
sol.
.
[0] It occurs to me that that won't make sense to people who haven't ever made a mask mold. You take plaster bandages, and cover the subjects face with them, and leave them to harden. Then you carefully remove that, which gives you a negative, and you fill it with plaster. When that's hardened, you take it out of the negative, and you're left with a positive, which you can use to make masks that are guaranteed to fit, in theory.
[1] Redux. That last stanza, deliberately out of place as it is, crops up as the chorus to another song, which I cannot for the life of me find. Ah well.
[2] I don't know about that one. But it's there because I'd forgotten how it ended, and the last verse took even me by surprise. I remember the girl I wrote it for, and that's *not* how I was expecting it to end, and wouldn't have been even at the time I wrote it. Go figure. The last line scans poorly, but you can fake it when singing it.
Kaya - big little sister - who has emptied your eyes? Who has decreed you will no longer see, save that which he shall choose? Wild little sister, I remember the fire I thought could never be quenched, for you passed it on to me, through the burning in your belly and your thighs. It used to light your starburst eyes, the life within was given birth in all you told whoever listened. I wonder now where all those words of power lodged - some in my heart and soul, of course, but somewhere someone took them all, and never thought he should perhaps replace them with inspiration of his own. And so a soul retreats, so a woman once a guide has lost her own way to a man who is not even travelling. Kaya - big little sister - if my words will bring you home, then I gladly spend them here, for no coin is worth enough to be so jealously hoarded for any purchase but your freedom...
* * *
Tomorrow I will not be honest.
And today I was not true.
And yesterday I just kept hiding
Little things from you.
Little things like love and joy,
And pain and truth and fear.
Would you listen if I told you?
Would you even hear?
Masks that hide the empty spaces
Where our hearts used to be.
Every time we add a bandage,
We get that little bit less free. [0]
Sometimes I wish you'd look my way
But then I fear that I might see,
In those soulless windows you call eyes
Myself looking back at me.
So tomorrow I will not be honest,
And today I was not true....
* * *
I walked a thousand roads to find a love I could not touch.
I walked a million miles to test a love I could not feel
I read within a thousand books of love that's strong and true.
I found a million images of lovers young and free
I held a thousand parachutes that tied me to the ground.
I wrapped a million chains around a heart that could not fly
I knew a thousand faces that vanished in the crowd.
I kissed a million fingers that only ever had one hand.
And I had always thought that I could do this on my own.
But now I see you standing there, take me by the hand and let me learn. [1]
* * *
How many times have I done this? Plaited fresh travelling feathers through my hair and walked away? I'll leave you my old ones - perhaps you will find wings for them some day. "Move over sun and give me some sky, I have found some wings and am learning to...". In all the time I had that written on this wall, I never noticed that you had finished the line. I always thought you had left it open, but now I see it ends in the blazing sun. I had thought the word was a pattern - now I see the pattern is a word. out of date love letters, tied together with a red ribbon. I found it again, washing the jeans we bought, so I tied it around your letters. Do love letters go out of date? I see you shake your head. "I never say goodbye...". Time and change, time and change. The red has faded, the edges frayed. Every time I untie it to read your past posted pain, it gets a little harder to tie back on. One day, perhaps, it will be impossible, and what, I wonder, will I do then?
* * *
(Fragments)
(I will sing you my sister's porch song, told to me over blue coffees and blood-red moons in the endless evenings of the years we were ten feet tall. I will sing you my brother's porch song, a song of love, a song of solitude, a song of days filled with Whiskey and heartache.)
On summer's longest days, a story comes to me, from long ago and far away; Whiskey's porch-song, a song of love and betrayal, joy and pain. I remember days when our love held fast in the face of any challenge, when our two hearts beat as one, and we wore each other's feathers with firce pride and in gentle harmony. I remember the day we sat in a cafe for eight hours, watching lives and stories unfold before us, tasting the Universe's richest patterns. I remember the night we held a pool table against all comers for six hours, feeling the power of hatred and envy in those we defeated time after time after time. And I remember our short lived child ....
* * *
_This Lifeboat is Full_
Well she was looking for a ticket to Elsewhere,
Thought she'd found it in a love she'd never known.
But soon she realised that all she needed
Was just something so she didn't feel alone.
And some of us have spent a lonely lifetime
Sailing oceans of love and fear and trust.
And some of us have spent so many years
Kneeling, humbled in the dust.
But she just kept on scrambling,
From one lifeboat to the next
And as I watched her sail away,
I could have sworn I heard her say
This Life boat is full.
Well she floated with the current,
Longing for the safety of the shore
And she never knew just what to tell them
When people asked "What are you searching for?"
The river emptied in the sea,
She's somewhere out between the land and sky
And the only way that I could think to find her
Was finally grow some wings and learn to fly.... [2]
* * *
Eh. I was, indeed, an angsty goth in my younger days. That's enough of that, I think.
Tho' there's more here, if you're into that sort of thing. It's even more angsty goth, though, and most of it ten years old. There are some fragments I'm quite proud of, though. Even if they are "too purple and redundantly metaphysical"... ;)
sol.
.
[0] It occurs to me that that won't make sense to people who haven't ever made a mask mold. You take plaster bandages, and cover the subjects face with them, and leave them to harden. Then you carefully remove that, which gives you a negative, and you fill it with plaster. When that's hardened, you take it out of the negative, and you're left with a positive, which you can use to make masks that are guaranteed to fit, in theory.
[1] Redux. That last stanza, deliberately out of place as it is, crops up as the chorus to another song, which I cannot for the life of me find. Ah well.
[2] I don't know about that one. But it's there because I'd forgotten how it ended, and the last verse took even me by surprise. I remember the girl I wrote it for, and that's *not* how I was expecting it to end, and wouldn't have been even at the time I wrote it. Go figure. The last line scans poorly, but you can fake it when singing it.