by Darryl Price
But please, don't let me fall into any more smaller pieces than I already have, before
I get to kiss someone again and really mean
It. I'm pretty sure I've always believed in something more positive than just hate. I've
Always felt its lovely hidden energy, just below the surface of all living things, I just don't know what to call
It that doesn't make it sound like just another boring-me-to-pieces
Storyboard afraid to die of an even more boring laid open march of stale and normal
Paragraphs, before it gets to change the world for the somewhat better off. If
I could take the dear closest moment at hand, I'd very much like to thank, yes,
You without a trace of any bitter irony about the nature of good luck, when I tell
You that I think you were wrong then and you're probably
Just as wrong now. All the fun things we cared so much
About are still gathered together in my active brain, and on the banks of my dreams, by the needs of my hopeful hopes, like a brown and polluted river of utter private trees. No one can live in Paradise without going crazy. I like
The wildest things in this world just fine, and the exact way and the where that they
Are happening to be at this very minute, thank you very much. I'm pleased as punch whenever a new modern dancer
Just happens to spring up out of the latest nowhere, and then just as beautifully done as a rainbow on fire surrounds us with his all consuming tickling arms until we can't resist her many charms any more without being called out as liars by our own deepest revolving artful selves alive.
We Are Eating and Sleeping Through Galaxies(a draft)
until the window's thrown white horses start digging such soft warm
hoofs into the floor's already dream-soaked flattened out back only makes
this gathering of exotic birds that much more obvious to no
one in particular. No wonder swimmers smile so gracefully. I don't
worry about that. I have my own strokes to carve the wet
hour with while waiting alone for communications to get a little
easier in the moist and weeded out soil. I'd like it to be beautiful, but
I think it must be already or not. I see what survives us everywhere I go.
True love's timeless beaches. There is nowhere else I can fly deeper than that today.
The light they hate to love (revised version)
by Darryl Price
There are those among us who are always going to be only out for themselves. They take, they don't ask, and if you get in their way they justify their actions with violence. These people are sad beyond repair, and dangerous to every forest creature, including man and woman. And yet, if there is love, and yet, something in the world will laugh at their folly, and refuses to give in to their childish demands for more and more of everything. It only takes one small flower to prove just how wrong they are and always have been. And always will be.
by Darryl Price
we held our weeping to
wall after wall of trees.
Scattering bones still spelled
out home because they knew
no other name. Savage
time can only throw dice
against the wall over
and over again, it
doesn't really make the
poor rough animals stay
less hungry for the soft
beguiling moon above which they
always seem to think is
only resting in a
shallow fuzzy lake just
waiting for someone to
bend inside the latest
illusion of far too
many stars and retrieve
its glare at long last. It must
after all be the most
delicious, singular
fruit of all time. Who among
us wouldn't want to
wait for that fat wet taste to appear on our tongues?
Plenty of us. Sadly
to say a number stayed
right where they froze and died
in their lighted, vacant
positions, not ever
finally knowing that
only freedom can guarantee
ownership forever
and forever isn't coming.
The story doesn't change
because it is the same as before.
No matter how many times
they hang you, we are the
remembrance in all your
deepest dancing senses,
we are the spark that sets
off the next new wave of rare
feelings, we are the brightest
upright fingers that will
daily reach for the sun's
welcoming face like train
tracks to mars, we'll never
stop, we will find your love if it kills us.
Darryl PriceOctober 29, 2012
Author's Note
The past is still with us, near, because of course it informs us of the continuation of all being, through sorrow, through joy, through tenderness,through the unexpected. We can't escape it just because we put on new clothes. The game is the same. To survive, to find meaning before it all changes again. To reach out and find each other and deliver the love that means the most and bring it on home.
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Here I am simply saying what needs saying--it's okay to choose the perspective that feels best to you for you. Yes, you can darken the waters anytime you wish, or just wait around long enough,and they will darken all by themselves, but that doesn't keep the birds from singing. You can't pinpoint what all of this means,unless you include everything in the world in your target,and if you do,you must admit to all the possibilities,not just a select few, unless you wish to live out a false existence. But why would you do that? Why would any of us do that? When we don't have to? I'm just casting my vote. I don't know what it will bring. I only know I did it without bad intent. If it matters, it matters. If it doesn't, there are others to tell the tides better. I'm all for them and you.
Pure gorgeousness.
'There is nowhere else I can fly deeper'. *