Poetry

Greg


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11 february 2013

The Path to Subjectivity

Bleeding heart in twisted veins
Collapsed upon the window pain
Visuality turning into sound
 
The high pitched scream of purple drapes
Blown into bits by the love we make
And the love that we are made of expounds
 
Outward from the inner realms
Of objective sonic hells
Dancing in the ringing bells
We wait
 
To be formed out of nothing
To create a little something
That will be forever more
 
But all that you ever make
And all that you every take
To be you is not yours
 
You just are
The effervescent sun
The one between the juke box
And the tattered bar room wall
Infinite held within the scalded pot
That sits upon a lonely stool
Looking for the cops;
To create definitions of what it should be
But really it’s relational
 
So forage down the rabbit hole
And come up for a breath
When you are on the other side
And none of you is left
Characteristics dissolved into love
Not tucked away upon the self
That is constriction
Objective vindication
 
Love is the sound of transcendence
Love is the sight of transcendence
Love is transcendence
Love






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