Time sublime, tumbles through my mind;
Playing back sweet memories, endearing to remind;
So much hope for the best, so many dreams to quest;
Nevermore to request, nor to inquest;
The little things taken for granted, twisted and slanted;
Thankful for the love, the seeds which were planted;
Grown apart yet bound together, no storm we couldn’t weather;
Heavy burdens alone we gather, paired become light as a feather;
Even through strife, no longer my wife;
This pain cuts my heart like a knife, I will miss you in this life.
Tears to fall down the face,
Time growing never to replace;
Life living to fill this empty space,
Destruction left to our disgrace.
A fevered pitch to quicken the pace,
A hurried attempt to finish the race;
A limp to burden without even a brace,
A head to hold high while marching to grace.
I heard a whisper on the wind,
whistling I love you along the breeze;
tickling my ears to bend a grin,
flowing through my mind with ease.
Slipping away, into the trees,
that wind twisting, blowing a love tune;
passing gently, weakening my knees,
filling my head, just like a balloon.
Chasing that wind, trying to catch it,
always fleeting, just out of my grasp;
expanding passion, keeping the flame lit,
exploding, punctured as if bitten by an asp.
That wind continues to whisper, to and fro,
slowly wandering, whistling a song of love;
a kiss in passing, as it blows on the go,
awakening souls, a tender hug from above.
The wind whispers through my soul,
whistling as it passes over the hollows;
wafting, gently twisting to and fro,
steam vaporizing to fill the shallows.
Drifting along the waters the current slows,
quickly cooling chilling air above gallows;
eventually bogging down within the icy floes,
frozen stones as ego’s pride swallows.
She slithers into my mind, coiling around my brain;
gently squeezing, to let me know she is still there.
Nibbling at my cortex, driving me somewhat insane;
before she swiftly slips away, to hide from her fear.
Her venom coursing through my body, so she will remain;
within my blood she lives, though she hides herself away.
I know she will return, for her love she cannot restrain;
paralyzed I sit, tainted, waiting for that fateful day.
Her shadow haunts me throughout my day,
flitting away, always just out of my sight;
waxing and waning, affecting my tide,
then disappearing like a hawk in flight.
A vision of a ghost, an echo from before,
whispering sweet promises within my ear;
leaving my mind in a blanket of euphoria,
as she silently slips away in a fog of fear.
Dropping little kisses within my soul,
ever so gently she caresses my heart;
reaching for her, as she fades away,
watching as she cracks and crumbles apart.
Sewn together, an endless thread of hope,
even a burden of despair, cannot break;
waiting patiently for her shadow’s return,
forever haunting me, around this lonely lake.
Whispering promises of an endless summer,
quietly within my ear, I hear her say she is mine;
haunted, I must be lost within this endless dream,
for as I look around, alone, her I cannot find.
She journeys regularly through my mind,
casually dropping her little seeds;
Cautiously planting a garden of hope,
growing dreams with the fantasies she feeds.
With promises of a bountiful harvest,
deep into my soul she breathes;
Fertilizing the roots in tender love,
promises to fulfill all of my needs.
Tending the rows in gentle kindness,
it’s something in me that she sees;
What she is growing, I do not know,
somewhere within my heart bleeds.
Within the Garden of Expectations,
the place she left me on my knees;
I sit here alone in disappointment,
discovering what grows here are weeds.
Growing forever in a bottle,
infinity condensed, confined;
expanding time in suspense,
compounded out of mind.
Starseed interjected mass,
a flip of the switch electric;
just an energetic pulsar,
only a touch of the eclectic.
A rhythm in frequency pitch,
a subtle dance of love in light;
twisting a universal chance,
chaotic control, harrowed sight.
Done like as before, never again,
gently drifting towards the blackhole;
vibrating harmoniously, a rift in time,
an energy which some call our soul.
I’ve got a gun.
You’d better run.
I’ve got to kill.
What a thrill.
A Bill called Brady!
The Bill is quite shady!
I’ve got no gun!
I’ve got to run!
The Violet Book is a collection of strange and odd poems, some inspired by life events, some completely products of imagination. Subtitled Gus’s Majik Busses, The Violet Book is not your average poetry and may be offensive to some readers; especially those who think the poem is about them, it is not. It is now available in PDF, DOCX, TXT, or even mobile formats through Scribd, at the affordable price of $5.99, and doesn’t have any sharing restrictions so you can share the weirdness with your friends. This is the second volume in a 4 part series entitled Idiosyncrasy, A Peculiar Way Of Thought from greyeyesgabriel.
The Violet Book