Neshama's Quiet

Her sadness is long but will not stain her dark beauty. For her loveliness comes from a deep stead where the pain will not tinge. Her past has left scares more numerous than the scientists’ resurrection but she manages to turn them to mellow and gentle flowers adding to her grace. Her dark and bright eyes make the moon herself too shy to radiate.

 

Yet her great poverty is seen only by those allowed inside her endless quiet. Ever the respite for those in need, she cradles her desire for a different time. This is done oft to her detriment for the kind heart can attract the lying tongue. Silently she suffers the unyielding pangs of guilt.

 

Her strength and bravery come from millennium of exertion by ancestors who moved history. Fearlessness passes through her veins feeding her spirit and authority in one enduring stream. She is owner of a shrine of truth many foes have discharged slings and arrows of hate to her berth. But a beauty remains that no vice shall mar.

-Johnny V.

Misguided Angel

His indelicate obsessions can all too often frighten his more gentle companions who feel awkward toward his deep passion. Regret consumes his extreme nature unable at times to avoid unwanted attention. Allowed only an immature vision of his aspect pain, none can comprend his heroic anguish. That lack of understanding makes his grasp of society seem powerless and  lost.

His unending task to garner weeping flowers already crushed amongst the mill-stones. He contiplates the sea with an impatient gaze as the acold wanton wind brushes his thwarted face. His lost eros, once a sweet cypress maiden now myriad in sorrow acting the role of the ungrateful bride. He is left to dream of her erst panting bosom when only winged ministers would understand his veneration.

Dignity Surrendered

Each in turn is required to surrender his dignity at the entrance to her parlor, gladly did her previous suitors release their burden. She will allow none to influence her resplendency. The endless assortment of bewildered men do but love the scent of her taintless body. In her attribute stars do retreat to more welcoming skies.

He holds tightly to the belief that he can better her frightful and trembling veil, but alas her shadow will devour the sun. So tranquil doth he step with the appearance of a juggler's feat. He will afford his open heart to quiet the myriad of unpleasantness which grows beneath her eyes.

He exits, invigoration and love denied, leaping past the mean-roof trees before distain belies his robust spirit. Onward past her grey winged path he strolls, regarding her wishing well of hate, unafraid to throw a penny.

Germs of Misery

The icy water breaks upon the bow of the crab filled hauls. The old men laugh at the young boys, who complain and shiver. For they, unlike their erstwhile companions are not straight with such an unforgiving chill. The dingy blue wilderness of the sea cries, and tosses her white foam across the red faces of tiny men gripping to support.

                From his throne above the captain shouts to speed up, the day’s pay. For the ocean is not a gentle lover, but colder than a fish and deafer than a goat. The weak men lay hands on the robust and the brotherhood is complete. Within the soul of the ship strangeness dies perplexed, and only familiarity survives.

                A lonely few remain, dismayed as to why sickness has brought them hence. Joy is but a faint forgotten scar, fondness lost in the germs of misery. This track will dry the sap in the veins of men, but upon land allow the gifts that govern spoiled boys.

-Johnny V.

Joy

The wind sweeps thru the palms to and fro, the tide brings the sand fresh moisture.  God himself insists we notice his exploit. His grace and wisdom enhance the shine of each star. The flight of every bird is part of his compel and will not avoid his sight. The morning sun caresses your cool skin to convey welcome ye each new dawn given to you anew.

Defeated and Low Men

As rain washes away my defiled dreams, I hold fast to the mask of sadness leaving gravity to suspend its duty one last night. Time cuts thick into my yellow soul, hope having long ago left me dejected and begging for God's detition. The last instant I hope will be tranquil for God doth save his mundane tasks for the weakest men.

I am left to cull what is left of my defeated spirit. Empty are my arms, desperate for redemption, leaving my sin to fester on the vine. My Jaunt transcends my cognition, while peace is trapped outside my grasp. And  joy becomes ash drying upon the taste of my tongue.

My station is at last circumscribed, I repeat the prayer I spoke as a shaver. My savior's ears will curtail all sound save his most brave zealots.  I am alone in my pyrrhic victory over love, forever the general of defeated and low men, returning merely as conquerors stained with kindred blood.

Remnant of Duty

Upon my threshold you landed, a broken winged and bitter angel. The tortured but silent cries you hid from the world played the sounds of Gabriel's Brass deep inside my ears. I took you into my compassion and nursed your tattered dreams and lost courage. Your strength diminished you clung to my solemn oath.

The further I cared for your wounded body the deeper became my love for your precious soul. But in synoptic time as your body matured in strength your reliance on me left your bosom. For never has the healing power of love been bested. I denied the truth of your move to personal indigence.

Although my eyes and heart did weep, my mind did apprehend that your invigoration was not meant for me. I know that our walk together was only a seductive tally, your ultimate step to disembarrass could only be taken alone. I was capable of assist no longer for even the Lord himself knows that love is the remnant of duty.

Indifferent Eye

             From the refuge of the deep brush she watches my fall from grace, knowing she, the single cause. I tread to the edge of the precipice, look to the heavens shouting my votive oblige toward her naked God. Holding still to the predict of our flimsy romance, and her promiscuous chaos. My eye, blind and bitter refuses to accept the expiring  ruin of her heart.

                Her fickle bosom perplexed by my hapless fate yet remains  unaltered by my despairing battle against her secret fire of unhallowed promises. I look down and know that this exit would feel like the stale stench of unwanted dreams. One small step, she gasps, as if to beg me restraint. But her need for delight outweighs her false sympathy.

               So with an indifferent eye she looks for me to prove to her my devotion. I fear that I will never atone until I resign my final dispose. Her victims crave that my wakeful nature will sink beneath  my devouring grave. So with my briny lips in full bliss I curse her Iron-foiled martyrs and with one inalterable measure bid my muse adieu.

-Johnny V.

The Rose

Stand prudent and be prideful in your passion for the rose, fear not the prick of the thorn. Know that it is only the stained bloodof pain which reveals the depth in the cloth of love. Step quickly on to the bright stage and let your follies be your only regret, because thru quiet and rest shall you recline in bier.

Heavenly souls may to you be denied but do not weep, for below God's sentry all have chance to brand their charriot's footprint along the sands of joy. Lips that once beguiled shall be ever tethered to your spirit and hearken solely to its whispers.

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Wet Lies

While she drowns in his insufficient love, he fills her heart with wet lies. His true suma is clouded in her passion stained eyes. Once caught in his false warmth she is ever lost, for his anatomy is a hospice with a more craggy bed.

His touch sears her pale flesh but she feels only the brush of a cool mountain breeze. His breath is foul and strict with the essence of death but her sense is only that of a flower garden in spring.

Their stumble to destiny's mark will remove her youth and innocence. He will emerge vibrant and strong for he long ago paid death's glorious toll, and knows well the frigid and dark corridors of Hell's library.

-Johnny V.