“It is human to err;

to do the unwise and tread upon glass.

It is stupid to care;

to look for a path and walk with light feet.

It is courage to charge;

to take the bull’s horns and throw morals to wind.

It is valour to stand;

to do what one wants and say ‘fuck’ to the rest.”

said the Fool.

]]> http://ether.me.uk/a-fools-lament/feed/ 0 http://ether.me.uk/smoke-circles/ http://ether.me.uk/smoke-circles/#comments Wed, 10 Mar 2010 21:07:30 +0000 Matt http://ether.me.uk/?p=270 Breathe in and feel the rush
of smoky heat, laced with sweet
sweet poison.

Live by it.

Die with it.

And the Farmer will too -

gun locked and loaded.

Run, Rabbit, Run.

And your Heart will flutter -

mind pumped and ready.

Run, Rabbit, Run.

And the Race will go on -

feet nimble and agile.

Run, Rabbit, Run.

Or all will be lost -

no butterflies in your stomach;
no pretty lures and baits;
no attention;
no sight of the end (the beginning).

Run, Rabbit, Run.

Let the Chase begin.

this is not the life you wish to see,
and he is not the world you want him to be.
so sleep and fall into loving dreams,
where everything and anything is just as it seems.

this love will have no borders nor gates -
save them for the checkpoints and war torn states.
it will conquer and it will overcome,
as long as you to this lullaby, succumb.

they linger -
their hands still caressing;
their breath still warming
on the nape of your neck.

they whisper -
gentle words still soothing;
soft songs still echo
at the back of your mind.

they wander -
their presence still lasting;
footsteps still sounding
in the hallways outside.

where the air is warm

and the sun gleams above.

take me to the coast,

where the gulls sing

and he awaits

- my love.

let go and show your inner shine.

The world awaits your radiance.

Glow.

This is your Cage.
With all its hidden bombs, wrapped in cotton wool.
Barbed and wired, barred and boarded:
This is your resting place.

This is your Home.

I am not my own,

just like you are not yours;

we are not individuals,

but a mass of living matter.

In the dark corner, I sit with my one candle – its light aflicker, my body aquiver.
Chapped hands hold the dimming flame – my breath abated, lest it go out.

“What is wrong?”, you say -
    A look of concern and suspicion.
“Nothing”, I feel obliged to reply
    whilst doubtful; chest seized with the burning pain of constriction.

This is not to last,
    I feel this is not to be forever.
Anxious and fearful of now,
    I question, “when will this moment come to the end I’m expecting?”

Yet you’re satisfied,
    With this simple golden hour.
You smile that smile of yours,
    and whisper the three words that tear me out of this reverie.

And in my most convincing voice, both for me and you,
I reply the way you want – “I love you, too”.

who can’t see the simplicity

of the situation.

I was too naive to see;

too gullible to read

the fine print below the words you told me.

or maybe fingers had been crossed,

instead of heart

and there was no needle for the eye.

and maybe it was all  just a lie.

no, I guess you did not paint me

because you never actually saw me -

just through me.

stood upon this glorified dessert -

tiered and iced,

with enough bling to please the highest ranked of pimps.

those red-orange flames

seem brighter each year

with the added shine of one more light;

one more beacon;

one more mark for the past three hundred and sixty-five days.

and for that short moment -

after the song, but before the blow -

they dance.

“this is not the end.” they say.

 and I can’t help but smile at the thought of times to come.

“see you next year.” I reply.