Monthly Archives: November 2011


Out into the Frontier

We ride

Our Hearts filled with Fear

And Foolish Pride

Into broken Horizon

And slate coloured Waves

Rain pours on

Over hollow caves

Of water and Cold

The roll of Thunder

Seals our Last oathe sold

To skeleton hands that drag us under

The moving hills are tombs

In the place that is Never still,

Where Liquid Mountains boom

As their Hollow caverns fill

And Empty waves

Pound away in the Madness

Nothing else saves

Us from our Sadness.

Out into the Frontier

We ride,

To Disappear,

To Hide.


Speaking in front of someone who still can hear

With distaste and a mean-hearted sneer

As if the listener has no ears

Hurts  😦


How can I be loud

When I try to Shout

No sounds come out?

How can Sounds have meaning

When they are intangible

untouchable and Receding?

How symbolic are the syllables

That leave my lips

Or are the markings engraved on Ancient crypts?

How are the sounds of falling leaves

Less beutiful then

A piano’s keys?

Sounds may seem comprehensible to fools

Who aren’t frustrated with a Language’s

Elegance, intricacy, it’s rules

But the thoughts that die within my head

Might in the darkness illuminating

Light be shed

Were not for sounds to make us see the World

To which we might all be bound

Like bats which scream at the Night to see

What Are Sounds?

A mystical phenomenon of Noise to me,

But not hearing the sights in front of you

Selfdestructing, absolute choleric,

Your eyes would misconstrue

The Sound we hear

Is all around shouting howling at the

Sky smashing anger and fury are distinct,

but Listening

is Extinct

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