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Table of Contentsoh my muse, amuse me
a finite jestural gesture
tangled and elusive are the questions
but so austere the answers
my asceticism, i cannot help
my heart remains callous, and adamant
no clement has come for me
to forgive my broken covenants
with a newly colored mindfulness
apologies and poor confessions
for suffering the abidance of
the law of unintended consequences
electric red and yellow
walking away it's fading to blue
sharp chills, a goodbye-hello
walking away deepens the hue
those who live in hollow trees,
have arms that are made of branches of leaves.
and they sing their songs of the forest, and love;
it is the quintessence of sound from the heavens above.
though they will travel around, i will hear their song,
through the wind and the rivers, i'll be singing along.
i'll travel the world, but stay in the same place.
meet millions alike, and long for one face.
a friend, or a lover, or that place in between,
i'll stick with you if you stick with me.
you said "i know no longer what i can believe",
so i'll sew you my heart and pin it to your sleeve.
this life is made out of the pauses and gaps,
and you'll skip them right over if you're running too fastso live by the sun, and sleep by the moon,
have arms that are made of branches of leaves.
and they sing their songs of the forest, and love;
it is the quintessence of sound from the heavens above.
though they will travel around, i will hear their song,
through the wind and the rivers, i'll be singing along.
i'll travel the world, but stay in the same place.
meet millions alike, and long for one face.
a friend, or a lover, or that place in between,
i'll stick with you if you stick with me.
you said "i know no longer what i can believe",
so i'll sew you my heart and pin it to your sleeve.
this life is made out of the pauses and gaps,
and you'll skip them right over if you're running too fast
and dream of the loves that ended too soon..
there are no mistakes or such things as "awkward silence",
just lessons to be learned, and friends who know when to be quiet.
just lessons to be learned, and friends who know when to be quiet.
when you reach out your hand,
and you feel that spark...
the one that burns up so bright,
it flashes out all the dark...
i don't know why you run...
when i find a love, i hold it like a prize,
even when i know it's the kind, that will be over at sunrise...
and while you feel for my thighs,
i'll look into your eyes,
and reach up for the skies,
cause' i'm no good at goodbyes...
so i hope that i finally have your attention,
and one day you'll take what you now feel as tension,
and turn it into a whole new invention,
thats something beyond your comprehension.
its like you are in a whole new dimension,
you cant even explain cause its too much to mention...
it just goes, and goes, and goes....
and you feel that spark...
the one that burns up so bright,
it flashes out all the dark...
i don't know why you run...
when i find a love, i hold it like a prize,
even when i know it's the kind, that will be over at sunrise...
and while you feel for my thighs,
i'll look into your eyes,
and reach up for the skies,
cause' i'm no good at goodbyes...
so i hope that i finally have your attention,
and one day you'll take what you now feel as tension,
and turn it into a whole new invention,
thats something beyond your comprehension.
its like you are in a whole new dimension,
you cant even explain cause its too much to mention...
it just goes, and goes, and goes....
Hollow Trees
Oh, my muse
Artlife
as a human, you are a work of art
and you are an artist
and the man next to you is an artist
and this is a collective culminating project
of infinite proportions in which
each artist sculpts and paints
each other artist
while being sculpted and painted
by them
and as things begin to unfold
so beautifully
in a way that is both new and so familiar
when everything clicks
and symbols reoccur again and again
each coincidence making tally’s
in your journal
until they are not coincidences anymore
you have to wonder
is this their dream or mine?
which one of you is creating this reality?
all
and you are an artist
and the man next to you is an artist
and this is a collective culminating project
of infinite proportions in which
each artist sculpts and paints
each other artist
while being sculpted and painted
by them
and as things begin to unfold
so beautifully
in a way that is both new and so familiar
when everything clicks
and symbols reoccur again and again
each coincidence making tally’s
in your journal
until they are not coincidences anymore
you have to wonder
is this their dream or mine?
which one of you is creating this reality?
all
A Dark Hour Passing In a Strange Place
By: Jelly
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