My Lady and Her Bear

ChainsawPenguin

My lady fair,
And her bear,
Set to sea last winter.
Cold wind blowing,
Neither of them knowing,
Whither the snow had sent her.
But their picnick at sea,
Gave them such glee
As they cared not to question.
They said “Let it blow!
We care not for snow!
Our boat shall be our bastion!”
Everyday watching ocean I,
Gaze upon the horizon wishing to spy,
My lost love, her bear, my lady so fair.
But remembering her joy in departing,
I cannot help imparting,
My joy to you,
Of our love so true,
That she’d never be truly departing.

Note on the artwork:
I do not have written permission to use this piece, as I do not know who the artist is. If you know and/or are able to give me the artists name please let me know in the comments that I may obtain the aforementioned permissions. In…

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Unacceptable Stairs

ChainsawPenguin

image

The mountain, the ark
The ziggurat. Embark
Upon a path of oneness that time forgot.
The head that floats there,
Those that lead into the air,
An end not unlike a brain and a blood-clot.
My ego death and following joy,
The Infinite stairs that you employ,
Provide the motivation to persue another one.
An imbalance in your being,
Those of the oneness now seeing.
With the guardian of the mountain struck down, I’m done.

This poem was inspired by Lemongrabs part in the Adventure Time episode “The Mountain”. As I’ve had no permission to use any of the trademarked names mentioned, I politely ask that the owners of said names do not “C and D” me. 🙂 please? Okay thanks.

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In a Different Life

ChainsawPenguin

In a different life
This pain she feels isn’t hers alone.
On this path there’s more than one shadow,
In a different life.
And in that different life, of which she often dreams.
There are hands to help her,
There are arms to hold her,
There is good and joyful news that’s told her.
There is a day without strife.
In that different life.
She stands and stirs from her daydream
Not seeing the faces in between.
The faces of those who wait.
Those who would help, that she does not contemplate.
Then she falls and cries out, to the void she thinks.
And crys again when she opens her eyes,
Surrounded by the faces and the hands of those who try,
And they who love and assist,
Thinking she was alone and not missed,
She never realized that her different life was this.

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What the Water Gave Her

ChainsawPenguin

“So lay me down in the flowing cold,
Sweeping away, I am but a soul.
All that’s left, the beauty around me
It’s its own beholder; it surrounds me.”
So what is given her but fear and lonely dread?
All hope abandoned here, once immersed, one is dead.
But to rise above the waves, one can dream,
And she surely does.
Though little more than that it seems,
Her safety she dearly loves,
Enough to stay on is this mainland,
But will she live with her head in the sand?
What she’s left with is what the water gave her.
Which is little more than enough to enslave her.
Floating by, amongst, beauty that draws in,
She rests her mind as she dreams within.

An elaborate take on my fear of water, and partially inspired by the Florence and the Machine song: “What the Water Gave Me”

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A Rebellion of Waves 

ChainsawPenguin

For waves the sea recedes and rocks that mark its bed,
One sees where sand lets go of another ones dread.
In swelling, falling, crashing, rising, each one tells of the others end.
In vain they argue, a discord of water and sand,
Their frigid spectators, the cliffs behind and the vigilant land.
Such steep demands, the sand tolerates no tribute,
Endlessly dancing in rebellion, they inevitably convolute.

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Banish Ignorance

ChainsawPenguin

A calling unto deep dreams, musings.
A thought in the past consuming.
No profit gained but still they search for this.
Unforseen consequence transpires.
Everyone here who has conspired
Loses what little left they had of ignorant bliss.
Yet bliss they never meant to hold,
Ignorance they meant to banish so,
Cast aside was their selfish bliss and painful knowledge ensued.
To prepare for the future and learn from the past.
Where others seeks what rust, we what lasts,
With what moths cannot eat nor thieves steal, we’re imbrued.

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Requiem to a Hopeful Twilight

ChainsawPenguin

A single tear from her soul only
Comes softly with the words “Just hold me”.
That cold summer, drifting, lonely.
I don’t remember what it was that came before.
Preceeding the darkened night,
Being a requiem to a hopeful twilight,
An angels song; a bewitching blight,
Does nothing to lift her from the floor.
There is a silence after her song.
There is the light before the dawn!
There is the hope that she’s forgotten!
These are the dreams that once were trodden.
She survives because she endures.
Now of one thing she’s sure:
Her hopes and dreams are worth the gain,
Worth the work, and all the pain.
She sees darkness itself is to blame,
Her souls tear, an angels song, the same.

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