Under Hell; Life In Reverence

Knowing I could not taste your great beauty,
Knowing a divide stood between our hands,
Forced to silence your sexuality,
I was still eager to develop bonds.

I praised what I saw, and knew- impossible.
I saw grace where it was, not mine to bear.
I let you become an intangible
Treasure, bound in divinity I can't share.

But without eyes, I fell deeply, swiftly
For the heart that inspires saints and sinners
Alike to piety, tears, charity.
I've come to love the warmth of the sun, of lovers.

Your heart, divine and bound to Him, you seen,
Brings halo'd perfection, serenity.

Damn

Hello,
Tonight ladies and gentlemen...is a HOT ass night...like really people love summer, but I fucking hate it. I think like whenever summer rolls around I will go to the opposite side of the world...namely Japan cause if it's hot here then it's cooler there. So I sit here and wonder when I would probably think of some inspirational sign that I'll start writing off on a tangent about. It never came...haha I just thought maybe it's time for an update. I still haven't
-got a job
-gotten my iPhone (yes everyone has one -_-)
-skated as much I would like
-work out as much as I want to
things that I have around 4-5 weeks to complete cause then begins the hard Fall 2010 year in which I will probably never blog again...haha or maybe sometime. I will be back!

TBD.

What can Apollo's lyre claim to if his
Fiery arrows hit plated breast and fail?
His notes falter against my ears' deafness
But yet, where his bow falls your smile prevails.
Your curve breaks ice, noiseless screams.
Her song, oh muse, takes His at best and turns
the arts to basic juvenilities.
Her hand demands my heart and mind to churn
(My own trivialities, as they are, in her honor).

In your silent curvature, caressing lips
miles apart and fingertips holding
hearts and stops, words poetic flow
from ear to ear within, between...
filling miles, and connecting plots.
Your silent song, and second long
graces, plucking inner songs
of perfect time, of perfect beat,
of perfect memory.

Refrain, pauses, lingering looks
emptied of cause and purpose-
locking eyes to drain disdain
and filling smiles
with clasped hands.

This is her art, muse, triumphing
mine.

This is tribute to her eyes
to her soft palms
hearts of earthen lives.

Tonight Dionysus rules this life.
And alone, her hand if perfect, just far
serves my own indulgence.
I slip in decadence, and inability,
to serve my own end with her own tribute.

Do I sense it?

It's time for summer...my summer to officially begin. Watch out so-cal cause it's going to be legen.....wait for it......DAIRY, LEGENDARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OK back to final preparations for exam I WILL BE BACK!

It's Easy

to feel so high... on the ground, looking up.

When tarps and beams fall around us.
Smells good..