189. Love, Loves Misery

How can you tear me down and then say,

“I love you, my darling”, as night turns to day.

Progressively painful vulgarities thrown,

From out your cavalierly-placed throne.

Love should not cause a heart pain as this,

Torturing ’til tears burn and dismiss,

The knowledge of love incinerated;

Then ask me to love where no love’s been created.

The tragedy’s that I care, though you kill;

Demolishing constructions at will.

Burning houses just built to stand,

Against the assault of your next reprimand.

K. Aldaya, 12/25/05

Picture: Artist Unknown; http://data.whicdn.com/images/22478399/28f273b9e0ffd544410d90c0f6ec8072_large.jpg

176. Have it Your Way

One more day. One more day.

Then time will find,

That stalking one more day…

Would be pointless.

One more day. One more day.

Escape will find,

That it is something we may…

Have to end this.

One more day. One more day.

Then time will end.

For this soul, black as coal may,

Finely get just what it wants,

And have just one more day.

Finely, have its’ way.

K. Aldaya, 10/6/05

Picture: “Clock” by Bernard Jaubert: http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/bernard-jaubert.html; http://fineartamerica.com/featured/clock-bernard-jaubert.html

170. The End is Near I Fear

My hand…look…fast is waning,

No more refrain from word-straining.

For the end swiftly approaches.

Expressionisms flow, in draining,

For sorrow encroaches.

Oh, how steady on its’ course,

We lose and then regain our source.

But hence I fear it will ne’er return,

Dripping-composure off-course,

May have no yearning to return.

K. Aldaya, 9/27/05

Picture: “A Lady Writing” (Close-up) by Johannes Vermeer (1665-66); http://www.essentialvermeer.com/catalogue/lady_writing.html#.VULKsJO8jGs

160. Heavens’ Angels

Angels whisper secrets on the wind,

Barely sensed, but by the sinned.

Tortured-wails resonate,

In these endless nights of late.

Sifting through spirit skinned,

Seeking paths to heavens’ gate,

Brushing our eyes of glass, froze,

In the evenings as we doze.

Reinforcing haunts of thought,

In embrace of what’s forgot.

Comfort lit-star shows…

Hence, gone, and not.

Begging mercy for souls tonight,

On wings of angels’ flight.

As we softly rest weak bones,

Gently as wind music drones,

And settles within ears light…

“Sinned are thee”, where love unowns.

Flagrant transgressions made,

We shed on face to never fade.

And lo’ the angelic-tenants,

Of gloried sight and fertile scents,

Soar o’er field and glade.

Longing for heart-lands dense.

But few are we who grow no life,

No trees branched to the afterlife.

We close our eyes at night to pray,

Knowing our sins are bound to stay.

For the moon so crisply rife,

Shines in our hearts of gray.

Shameful existence of…

Supplications to above.

Seraphs celestially abide.

Not near we mortals a-died,

Unable for to have love…and..

E’er reach Zions’ reside,

On angels flown in skies above.

K. Aldaya, 8/27/05

Picture: “Flying Angel” by NaJae-Crazy on Deviant Art; http://najae-crazy.deviantart.com/art/Flying-Angel-345515496

158. Give Me a Hand

I saw its hand reach out to me.

In the dark it nightly watched,

Stalking my soul as a decree.

No choice: it had to have me.

Closer and closer it notched.

Its’ ghastly hand found once,

A place upon my shoulder cold.

Why is this only what it hunts?

My eyes cared only of confronts,

So they turned back to behold.

O’ what a hideous game to play,

There I saw nothing but black,

And a dim-hand far away.

O’ to offer…then steal away,

And accentuate the lack.

I painfully motioned hand outward,

To grant forth what I thought it sought.

How could I know this was absurd?

To know what this could have spurred?

It joined my hand not.

I stumbled to move in near.

Bones broke and blood teared down,

But no longer did I fear!

Then it…o yes…did disappear,

And I was left to drown.

Death is a demons’ jester-pawn.

Walking our eyes upon its’ path.

All made and held swiftly gone,

In pursuit of this path it’s on.

To fall, then arise, a living blood-bath.

And death: vast years away,

Laughs the empty hours away.

K. Aldaya, 8/14/05

Picture: “Scary Shadow” by krowngraphics; http://krowngraphics.webs.com/apps/photos/photo?photoid=43873623