deepundergroundpoetry.com
Evening and the Mornin
Evening and the Mornin
Baroque art was meant to evoke emotion and passion instead of the calm rationality that had been prized during the Renaissance... Is just a experiment of sight, sound an words, I dont know what the hell I'm doin... 0.0
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Harmonic convergence,,, fill me till my cup runs through,,,
Monochromatic shades, grey black and blue surround me,
Comfort me, without speaking, should I still be found living
Seek me out as I have you, along cobblestone corridors of soulful thoughts and passionate mind,
Memories pale and damp, before words form in me, disturbing the sound of monolithic visions,
Soothing textures of colored coolness,,, Calmly wearing me like a second skin,
Take me home,,, please will you not take me home
My Lovely One is just like me, only beautiful, no I won’t forget her,,, don’t you ever change,
Carving and chipping away old stone, till the monoliths a baroque vision, of all it should have ever been,
Picking me fresh from an unmarked grave, as unto a withered rose made alive,
And the evening and the morning was the first day,
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Harmonic Convergence, riding along smooth pathways
Where do I go now, the spirits restless
For senses to perpetually take in site of voices and feelings of sound, from hoarded memories grand,
Buried deep within ground, Bursting up from Tarmack, through the clouds
Soaring, spiraling, sailing neath the Suns rays, above clouds of monochromatic greys,
That shower down rain upon man
Sinking and absorbing low, many layers below the feet
Where the seeds of hope and tomorrow meet, oh- sweet bells of youth sing, ringing loud and echoing true
As seeds of tomorrow burst forth through green pastured streams and epitaphs not yet read
Arise,,, arise, arouse a rose from the grave, placed perfectly still, handled carefully with love,
And the evening and the morning was the second day;
~~~ ~~~
Oh industry, fanatical sower of discord, what more have you to do with me
FAITH NO MORE have I in you or in the Helter Skelter of your way,
Breathing in thyne ways of heavy metal toxicity, yours is a mechanical heart
River of flames, stealing souls as pastime activities
Weaver of dreams, made winding through my head,
The peacefulness of the porch, and the wildness of the night
You first came to me shining like an angel, and her seven evening stars
How can you own disorder in the sacred silent waves of my world
Do not believe me, look around on your own ground
Fortified in the ground to the last Arquebus,
And yet I do tell you life it goes on and on,
its too much for me to take,
Industry thou are dark and out of key, selling all the worlds and life found therein,
a glutton you have become, it’s a horrible site to behold
to fight for thee is to fight a Titan against a Titan,
But for acclimation and repentance, though chains are heavy and bind me, leaving me spiraling down
Prayest thou for me if words come,
And weep for me, if the tears come,
So my conscience can always follow, where ever you may roam
And the evening and the morning were the third day
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Baroque art was meant to evoke emotion and passion instead of the calm rationality that had been prized during the Renaissance... Is just a experiment of sight, sound an words, I dont know what the hell I'm doin... 0.0
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Harmonic convergence,,, fill me till my cup runs through,,,
Monochromatic shades, grey black and blue surround me,
Comfort me, without speaking, should I still be found living
Seek me out as I have you, along cobblestone corridors of soulful thoughts and passionate mind,
Memories pale and damp, before words form in me, disturbing the sound of monolithic visions,
Soothing textures of colored coolness,,, Calmly wearing me like a second skin,
Take me home,,, please will you not take me home
My Lovely One is just like me, only beautiful, no I won’t forget her,,, don’t you ever change,
Carving and chipping away old stone, till the monoliths a baroque vision, of all it should have ever been,
Picking me fresh from an unmarked grave, as unto a withered rose made alive,
And the evening and the morning was the first day,
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Harmonic Convergence, riding along smooth pathways
Where do I go now, the spirits restless
For senses to perpetually take in site of voices and feelings of sound, from hoarded memories grand,
Buried deep within ground, Bursting up from Tarmack, through the clouds
Soaring, spiraling, sailing neath the Suns rays, above clouds of monochromatic greys,
That shower down rain upon man
Sinking and absorbing low, many layers below the feet
Where the seeds of hope and tomorrow meet, oh- sweet bells of youth sing, ringing loud and echoing true
As seeds of tomorrow burst forth through green pastured streams and epitaphs not yet read
Arise,,, arise, arouse a rose from the grave, placed perfectly still, handled carefully with love,
And the evening and the morning was the second day;
~~~ ~~~
Oh industry, fanatical sower of discord, what more have you to do with me
FAITH NO MORE have I in you or in the Helter Skelter of your way,
Breathing in thyne ways of heavy metal toxicity, yours is a mechanical heart
River of flames, stealing souls as pastime activities
Weaver of dreams, made winding through my head,
The peacefulness of the porch, and the wildness of the night
You first came to me shining like an angel, and her seven evening stars
How can you own disorder in the sacred silent waves of my world
Do not believe me, look around on your own ground
Fortified in the ground to the last Arquebus,
And yet I do tell you life it goes on and on,
its too much for me to take,
Industry thou are dark and out of key, selling all the worlds and life found therein,
a glutton you have become, it’s a horrible site to behold
to fight for thee is to fight a Titan against a Titan,
But for acclimation and repentance, though chains are heavy and bind me, leaving me spiraling down
Prayest thou for me if words come,
And weep for me, if the tears come,
So my conscience can always follow, where ever you may roam
And the evening and the morning were the third day
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Published 4th Sep 2014
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15th Sep 2014 8:58pm
This was something dictated and sung from inside your head--There was no clear movement for the words, just like thoughts in ones mind.
Not any flow of ideas or memories are a straight line, and it is a work of art to simply speak to oneself~
People tend to believe that, in order to make poetry, it must absolutely connect with whoever is reading the work. I am not certain if you expected to do this, but from what I read--and how I allowed myself to slip into the words that were being sung here--this was perfect~
Just out of touch with reality enough to forget about the surroundings that live without. The words and inspirations swirling within this text are infinite.
This had a calm, serene mass of secrets. No poet ever learns exactly what they are doing--they simply pretend to think so~
I must know your inspiration for this~
Not any flow of ideas or memories are a straight line, and it is a work of art to simply speak to oneself~
People tend to believe that, in order to make poetry, it must absolutely connect with whoever is reading the work. I am not certain if you expected to do this, but from what I read--and how I allowed myself to slip into the words that were being sung here--this was perfect~
Just out of touch with reality enough to forget about the surroundings that live without. The words and inspirations swirling within this text are infinite.
This had a calm, serene mass of secrets. No poet ever learns exactly what they are doing--they simply pretend to think so~
I must know your inspiration for this~
4th Oct 2014 4:54am
Hello friend; sorry for the late reply, this is one of my worst behaviors by far... When written this, it honestly was written from sleeping. For a one week period, kept hearing these words, feelings and emotions to this piece, when would wake up I would write it down, but being bad at remembering I dreamed the same things for about 3 or 4 days, by the end of those days, I had written down what had dreamed and felt, there was almost no editing or rearranging there, this write is almost 100% dream state... At the time of those dreams, was heavily studying Baroque and Impressionist art, such as Rembrandt and Monet, for school, it might have steered my dreams towards those rhythms...
16th Sep 2014 4:18pm
The structure lends itself to allowing a reader to disregard the typical conventions of poetry. This had to be put on my reading list!
The love of music, an appreciation for history, and a dexterity in use of language standout like the most inspiring mountain or the most regal of trees.
The love of music, an appreciation for history, and a dexterity in use of language standout like the most inspiring mountain or the most regal of trees.
4th Oct 2014 5:01am
Jazz my friend; how are you doing man... This one was fun to write, can feel its a new path that I seem to be gravitating towards little by little, it feels very natural for some reason... For some reason, when remembered that opening song there by Segovia, it just felt like it was a natural fit to read it with, don't know why feel that hehehe...
4th Oct 2014 4:24pm
