eulogY

My heart is a spark
On an ember softly dying
My love is a whim
A dream in the corner crying
    It's eyes filled with weeping
    Lines of kohl in sorrow streaming
My soul is bereft
That my sister lies here dreaming
Yet my hope is eternal
knowing she's in His presence singing
    O, God of my salvation
    For You, my heart's prostration
I will praise Thee
Praise Thee
And praise Thee ever more


ELAshley
121508.123809.1 - lines 1-7
030915.093816.6 - lines 8-15

wednesday's child this friday morn...

"Mountains, Hills, and Mounds of Earth"

There were flowers strewn
O’er mountains, hills and mounds of dirt
Cov’ring over every hurt
Now gone. Cruelly hewn
And felt no more
Honeysuckle in the air
Sweet on winds run through your hair
As you lay lying there
To feel again no more

I cried a lover’s tears
O’er mountains, hills and mounds of earth
Counting all I thought it worth
Now gone. How it sears
This heart for evermore
Strains of birdsong in the air
Singing gaily and unaware
Of you, love, lying there
To feel again no more

Heaven weeps to know you’re gone
From my side, yet not for long
Each day will seem eternity
Until your face again I see

Sore despond I threw me down
O’er mountains, hills and mounds of clay
My every cry a dirg'ed lay
Swearing I would rather drown
That I might feel again no more
Honeysuckle in the air
Sweet on winds run through my hair
‘tis grief you see now standing there
a breath and cry away from where
You feel again no more


ELAshley
030212.104326.1
Revisions:
031212.013950.6

twenty-seven, dung bEetles, & epitaphs

What do Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Kurt Kobain, and now Amy Winehouse have in common?

The number twenty-seven... the age at which each of them died-- Welcome Miss Winehouse, you have been unceremoniously ushered into an auspicious, albeit rare, company.

Have you ever seen video of a dung beetle pushing a ball of poop around? That little ball of shit is this particular beetle's lifeline. It defines who and what this particular insect is.

Now look at the above names; members of the 27 Club. Each of them was pushing their own ball of crap around, and in the end that ball of crap is what defines them. Some will naturally protest that and say it was their music which defined them, but I would have to argue against that point. And here's why...

Music is what they did; they were good at it, and are famous for it. They each made a name for themselves because of it, and made-- or were in the process of making --enough money to change their individual paradigms. But none of the above mentioned 'artists' were able to stop pushing the shit that defined what they thought of themselves. The reason I put it this way is I've been there. Drugs defined who I was for a time-- an addict. I was, of course, much more than that I was an artist too... still am, but back then drugs colored every other thing I did-- just as it colored everything the 27 Club did in their own lives.

'Drugs' was the ball of shit I pushed around. It was the ball of shit they pushed around. But unlike Sisyphus, they weren't 'chained' to the futility of rolling that ball of shite up the hill. Had they only opened their eyes to their own sense of self-worth, they could have abandoned that ball of crap and moved on, and, in all likelihood lived to a ripe old age with many accolades to their name. Now, in spite of their talent, 'overdose' is the one accolade that will color every other accolade they managed in their short lives.

For myself, I managed to see that ball for what it was... when I was twenty-seven. I've been rid of it for more than two decades now.

Amy Winehouse, like every other member of the 27 Club, is now rid of that ball of shit too. But what separates me and Amy Winehouse, aside from fame, fortune, and good looks, is I managed to walk away, and the name I carry today is untainted by the ball I shit I pushed around. Unfortunately, like all the other members in that sad club, her name will carry with it the unfortunate addendum *drug addict; died of an overdose.

That's a very sad legacy to leave behind, and a poor epitaph to the talent she had on loan from God.

May HE have mercy on her soul.

july's nuclear drEam

The sky was once blue
Now its a gray ashy hue
And its burned on the memories
Of everyone I knew
Gone are the abbeys
The parks and the bars
Gone all discussions
Of Venus and Mars
Everyone's gone
Or near enough, anyway
Time to start over
If I can just find a way

Did we really think heaven
Would forgive us this day
Or forgive us tomorrow
Have you nothing to say?
Silent as a tombstone
And dead as the sky
Who's now left to ponder
Every dream's dying sigh
Cause I can't find a reason
Or an answer just the same
Why I should stand here living
Amid the dead and the flame

Color me pessimistic
Color me a fool
Things could be better
Wading my feet in the pool
Where the bodies lie floating
Or to the bottom submerge
While the shrill keen of missiles
Sing their hideous dirge
I'm just hoping for something
Some substance I cannot see
Looking for the evidence
Of a greater faith in me

Only I can stop this
I could wake from this dream
Beat my swords into plowshares
Cast my fears in the stream
And let the waters carry them
To rivers and to seas
Give my life to understanding
to flowers and to bees
Show the world I love them
Not in word but in deed
There is nothing in these weapons
We should ever want or need


ELAshley
071211.112535.1

Not my best work. Not by far.

capulet

I've got a headache. The kind that shoots spears of lightning down the muscles of the neck and back-- it's a vice that seems to know but one direction. Headaches, for me, cause everything else to grind to a near standstill.

I wrote a poem once, while in the beginning throes of a migraine. As short as it is, it still took more than an hour to get right.

This time around my inspiration came not from the headache, but from a single word which caught my eye while scanning a random page of text... That word?


Capulet

Capulet sing
To the morning sun
Of all the things you haven't yet done
Ask him to stay
A little long 'neath the cover
Give you more time
Alone with your lover
Capulet sing

Capulet sing
To the dark starry night
Sing of the things you haven't got right
Ask them to shine
A little long in the sky
Give you and your lover
More time for goodbye
Capulet sing

Soft-throated murmurs
And sighs on the bed
Clasped and fervent
To the boy you have wed
Oh, Capulet sing
Of eyes deep and burnished
Tongues steeped in honey-sweet dew
Your lips on the curves
Of your dear Montague
Oh Capulet sing
Poison and daggers
Are terrible things

Sing and let go
Without fear or doubt
To your sweet Montague
Unstained and devout
Sing Juliet and maybe you'll see
A life beyond whispers
And cold rosary

Capulet sing
To the cold fates of love
Pray to the God who watches above
For Romeo rises
And Mercury too
Tumult and Tybalt
By the hand of your poor Montague
Oh, Capulet sing

Soft-throated murmurs
And sighs on the bed
Clasped and fervent
To the man you have wed
Oh, Capulet sing
Of dreams for the future
Of love, unembattled and true
Your lips on the breast
Of your dear Montague
Oh, Capulet sing
Capulet ring
Capulet love
Till the morning takes wing
Oh, Capulet love
Oh, Capulet sing
Daggers and poisons
Are terrible things


ELAshley
033111.110726.
.113625.1

bound by yet another human construct? or freed?

It's easy to become distracted and, once ensnared, hard to break away. I heard it articulated last night thusly: Sin is like a comfortable bed: easy to get into but hard to get out of. I'm not equating distraction with sin-- only comparing.

I find myself distracted. I wasn't the moment I walked in this morning; there was work to do and a firm deadline of 10:30am. So I knuckled down and got it done. Ahead of schedule.

But now I find myself distracted... I'm here, aren't I? That's right. I'm here wasting time when there are 3 other looming deadlines on the desk as I speak. But, since I'm already here, let's consider my deadlines.

Between each momentary "now" and each of my multiple deadlines is an ever shrinking value called time. For those of you who followed Farscape and enjoyed the finale, The Peacekeeper Wars, a bit of dialog...

Einstein:      Time...
Crichton:      ...Flies
Einstein:      Time...
Crichton:      ...Bandits
Einstein:      Time...
Crichton:      ...Wounds all heels
Einstein:      Time...
Crichton:      ...Rosemary and
Einstein:      Time...
Crichton:      ...Time ends.

The point being? Time ends. Deadlines come and nothing you do can halt its approach. Like that last line from 'Dust in the Wind'... "And all your money won't another minute buy..."

While I'm wasting time, my deadlines cometh. Welcome or not, they approach. The sands slip through the hourglass.

Another movie quote: from The Matrix...

"Do you hear that Mister Anderson? That is the sound of inevitability."

So there you have it. Each moment I spend here, distracted from those things that must get done, is lost. This means I will have to work doubly hard to get my tasks done, which makes me a slave to time. We all are. Our lives are ordered by time.

But time is a construct, right? A human construct? Can't we just tell time to go away? That we refuse to play its game a moment longer? Ahhh! Not a moment longer? Even our tongues speak the truth of our serfdom to the rule of time-- a construct no longer but, as Agent Smith declares, an inevitability. We are born, live our lives-- for the most part --obliviously or semi-aware of the cost of our daily and momentary choices. But there is hope, albeit emaciated...

From Fyodor Dostoevsky's, The Possessed...

"You've started believing in the future eternal life?"

"No, not future eternal, but here eternal. There are moments, you reach moments, and time suddenly stops, and will be eternal."

"You hope to reach such a moment?"

"Yes."

"It's hardly possible in our time," Nikolai Vsevolodovich responded, also without any irony, slowly and as if thoughtfully. "In the Apocalypse the angel swears that time will be no more."

"I know. It's quite correct there; clear and precise. When all mankind attains happiness, time will be no more, because there's no need. A very correct thought."

"And where are they going to hide it?"

"Nowhere. Time isn't an object, it's an idea. It will die out in the mind."

--- Kirillov to Stavrogin

It will die out in the mind.... so very true! But, in the mean time, the sands slip through the glass, moments die; perhaps consumed by voracious langoliers.

Stavrogin hopes to reach a moment where time suddenly stops. I wish to hope for the same. Perhaps even turn the hands back a decade or two. But I'd settle for keeping the hands at 11:14am on this day of April 29, 2010 for a week or two... allow myself some breathing room, and time to catch up.

But time is an enemy to everyone. Because we know what it has in it's nasty pocketses.

Ha! To think some one could actually have a door in its pocket.

Who would we call such a one but Death?

something borrowed, something new

I hesitate to post this, but. I may be shy when it comes to the opposite sex, but I'm not all that shy about sharing my thoughts to those who'll listen. And since no one is listening...

I have the melody, and these are the lyrics.

Mary (Go Ahead and Cry)

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you marry
Mary will you
Marry your friend
And love to the end?
Mary will you

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh
Will you bury
Mary will you
Bury your loves
With the angels above
Mary will you

Carry your heart
In the bag on your shoulder
Collecting your tears
In every 'I love you' you told her
Don't cry...
Mary don't cry
Though they are gone, you know this isn't goodbye

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you love me
Mary will you
Love who I become
In all of Autumn's setting suns
Mary will you

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you hold me
Mary will you
Hold me as I lay dying
In my dying breath sighing
Mary will you

Hold in your heart
In the bag on your shoulder
Every prayer on your rosary
The Hail Marys your prayed to her
Don't weep
Oh, Mary you're weeping
They're not gone, they are only sleeping

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Will you marry me
Mary will you
Marry your friend
And love to the end
Mary will you
~For better for worse

Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Mary I'm with you
Never will leave you
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Mary I love you
My whole heart and life breaks for you
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Mary I'm here, go ahead and cry

(Repeat to End)
Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh,
Go ahead and cry

(Very End)
I'm here, and not going anywhere




ELAshley
031610.090326.6
Revisions
031710.100526.1

It may seem I presume too much, but I don't write for myself. I only imagine the pain I would feel were I wearing different shoes. It is not my voice that sings. But my sorrow for her is real.

something rEally bad

Moving through the eastern sun
I saw you first upwind of tomorrow
Hands caressing the long tall grasses
Heart swung knells of bells you rung
For all tomorrow's sorrow
And here I am wanting, wishing too
For early morning and morning dew
Wanting and wishing only for you

I caught you in the noonward tides
Sun above, beginning to fall
Embraced you in these arms of summer
Raim'd in love and light besides
And dreams we swore, nor did forestall
Now here I am wanting, and wishing too
I'd caught you in the morning
   ~Made love upon the dewy dew
No more wishing, but wanting of you

The pipers in the trees
Orchestrating accompaniments
To the rhythm of our cries
Perfect echo to our sighs
Safe in long tall grasses
Away from all their prying eyes
Something really bad could happen
Were it not for our many allies

Sun falls swiftly in the sky
Shadows threshing our lover's bed
Our dewy bower in sepias warm
Where long tall grasses yet lie
Where love, life and promise wed
Yet here we still are wanting, wishing too
We could see again the morning
   ~Make love upon the early dew
Ever wanting and wishing for you
   ~You for me
Ever wanting and wishing for you and
You for me
Ever wanting and wishing forever for you
And you for me
Wishing again to be

Pipers in the trees
Orchestrating accompaniments
To the rhythm of our sries
Perfect echo to our cries
Safe in the tall grasses
Away from all of their prying eyes
Something untoward might very well happen
Were it not for all our many allies
Here in the tall tall grass
Ever wanting or wishing for you, and
You for me
Ever wanting and wishing for you, and
You for me
Ever wanting and wishing forever for you
And you for me
Wishing again that we might be
Again


ELAshley
110309.111456.6
I'd like to think there was a melody in my head while I wrote, but rarely is this the case. Not a particularly inspiring title. Perhaps I'll change it. But not today.

I listened to David Gray's Babylon (Live) throughout this effort which was written for a specific someone, but I'm not willing right now to say for whom...

If you want it
Come and get it...
Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now

Revisions:
110309.104203.6
110409.031117.6