BRIDE OF SHIPS

Note: Try reading it with music in the background: Keith Jarrett Sapporo Part 1, start around min: 5 or 7
A feeling of waves washing through the body or goosebumps will occur if music is timed well with the reading.

Lanterns in the colt’s neck—
by desire— hung,
And a star shining at the shoulder of night—
oiled of the sorrow trees; the palms,
and freed from the knot of two shores—
the farewell of the ship’s— depart,
a ship of ships— not of light.
Of the wind of decay; the flutes bewailed,
waking its captain; the impossible
so, he; from the blowing wind a taste acquired,
and in this trial's ache found delight.

My soul; a sentry— when
The waves folded till on— her;
ruptures spawned
for she into one with the ship; fused— unite;
in belonging; That’s the way to belong.
I’ve perished in love, and with me; it
in vanishing combined;
So, from two vanishing ones might sprout;
Existence; permanence.

A house I built—
from illusions, love, and tears drops,
love is where? and where is love?
The building is done.
Of ships O’ bride;
on the sun’s timber of thy;
my back I pressed—
attentive on silence; I keep,
bloodied— I from people on the ground,
and for help— to the sea I plead;
Before reading my compass and my guide.
Unveil I what the raptors have gnawed—
from the morsel of the heart,
and open; the wounds have I kept—
to the winds of salt marshes or brine;
For a gash could dream not—
unless in his severing— blade;
would gawk—
absurdly— in the heavy dark.

Then, the sun had its orbit capped,
and fantasies had me envisioned;
sleeping beneath a thousand sails,
Zoroastrian my tale is;
Within her centered— the fire temple,
And my heart’s hasty to depart.
Far; from the cursed clockwork of time, O ship—
A little heavy is—
My small luggage of pride,
and burdened were thou not with little or small.
the lamps shall I keep aflame— lit;
In the glamour of the morning,
as a settlement between;
the dawn’s waking and my own;
As the wind stays for me a guide,
ask her will I;
of a seagull or bout’
That once on a voyage with the soul was—
in the storm— times of the lightning strikes;
When oceans used to lay—
drunken in my arms;
and from their waters—
green my garments dyed;
through thousands of years of youth—
What— a time has passed by;
O’ passion … O’ longing… O’ ardent love…
You’ve like— today; never been,
Excitement— without,
And nothing remains on my mind now
but the bull— headed inner sob,
of the interweaving of indigo—
in the surge; along with the violet froth;
bejeweled with pearls in the dusk.
adorned with the night O’ Bride
is the violet froth,
And the moon in the moment;
of two orange blossoms spun.
changed too soon; O’ shallow joy
And my heart’s an apron;
on— it sits of crows a throng—
lamenting— before the crescent sets.

Bride of ships—
On thy golden deck conclude I,
My head to the sea is turned;
of endlessness and night—
breathing the scent;
grueling— worn and by waves tossed—
some to the right and some to the left,
To the back my head is bent;
Of booze— made; heavy— dense,
So, was from the hardship of time— spent,
Sapped— made in an age of bogs;
from the search in the land— wet;
For at least a moss;
Through the late watches;
with me to hark—
To the impossible of the way;
the point— end.

Dozing at God’s are all the seagulls
And none but your ship left—
by the northern winds stunned,
on its face drippling; the sunset mist,
And by the islands; the sweat of the God.
Where, then, its anchors; will the evening cast?
Houses from water I built—
By the paddling made— destruct,
So, the building— act remains constant.
For days; two— long;
in the solitude of who; self— contradict,
This ship back and forth—
is pushed by the start;
quenched her of the wind’s— illness;
a drink; the second time,
and enticing her that
It is in her nature to derive.
O progeny of infinities and ships;
What ecstasy you got!
When the sea had sung;
With the melody of mercury— spume,
And dazzling the lapis and emeralds shined,
O Lapis… O Emeralds… O precious rocks…
if the sea chants,
a letter of melody the cosmos becomes;
topped with intensity — then intensity— then prolonged.
To the intense after that; a tug,
and cleaving— I am; to the boat in the dark,
onto my oar; like a woman’s waist tight I clutch.
Now a dose; O friend you got,
While here— countless being the stars,
And you as created by the God—
In beastly ecstasy; between the masts— caught;
of the remaining grey hair; lightning incites,
and playing with what— left
of thunder in the heart,
In what of violet and the universe of depth,
staggering did your screams— soar high;
As it reaches the last of thresholds,
vitality— full, relentless; just.

Of ships O Bride;
On the vile leave me not—
that of two—shores one is;
For madness strikes—
if a sound—rings in the distant—far;
disturbing the stillness of night.
Bride of the ships; leave me— not
With what a filthy tyrant— been ruling by.
For that in me;
The booze had its magic stopped,
And the body of this remedy topped,
And of patience— waiting;
The skin— had pale gone.
Of all the letters the lovable is—
what we; with a small breath utter;
after; not prolonged.
And do tell O Bride;
What are— the lovers but;
the emphasis of the God—
of the endless mysteries; unbound?!
If the violet— composed sap melt;
And in the weakness of the sea dripping— swept
I dwindle, in place— affixed;
My body— contracts;
Of ships O’ Bride—
and the cold in the glossy morning;
silk— made dress,
migrate none at dawn but the swans,
the eternal boredom in my body rests,
Only by the seas mysteries; I am impressed—
Take me; I yelled!
Let me hear their bells—
A lightning; insists in my heart.
Love— entranced I; O’ seas—
Swing your bells!
Haunted by what in the streets;
Of beheadings and theft,
And the cup— full its liquid— spilled,
houses of illusion and tears I built;
and with my soul I converse,
And every dialogue with the soul;
watered was!
into bird cometh the time— living;
and in my cage wept;
When it saw his companion—
By the death— claw stabbed
And the singing halts.

When then, O Bride—
of clarity; will the time come?
My heart’s a kingdom of pus— filled blebs,
And my body of illness reached the summit,
Take me to read of the storms— spirit;
When she cuddles the wrath of nights,
Take me—
For the essence; squeeze— condensed
in drowning dissolves;
Take me… Take me… Take me…
For the sea needs no questions— asked
And one heals when at— sea;
fully—lost.
I shout: O Sea!
O Lord, O Darkness, O Dance—
In traditions there is;
What is the looseness of the bowels,
The sea follows no compass— O ship;
But it is; what the compasses after are.
Exert will the minds of the sailors— All;
Whom their beards ashore pawned;
What looseness of the bowels begets.
Unleash, blast; O storm!
Wheels slipped from their clocks,
Floods leap each—other atop;
When they—in the chaos collide.
On the last breath will the rebel’s attempt;
When of the dangerous road;
the crossing must be done.
To know the stream source O Bride;
one only needs a drop.
The moment nears—stay up,
rifles awaken in arrogance,
The meteors and amber rouse; mob,
And blood comes— dreadful, dark,
Doomsday is; its smallest drop,
A black storm with a thousand eyes,
With a red storm on the top,
Beards curl like scorpion tails;
To the petrified;
For they could—not;
from their skin hide.

I dreamt conscious;
And fulfillment in the dreams— is of what to come.
Migrate none in the midst of night but the ducks,
The vessels astray; not steered by a captain—
Advent in knowledge of the seas, drift apart;
aside by the night—ditched; in exhaust,
within them the groans sough.
Bride of ships;
away from what in you my soul delights
into the far deserted I;
for I from a nation;
The desert burst into her nights,
and nothing in the doctrines I saw;
but their Esse, and in that never adopt
for my roots in the ground faithfully extended
that of flowers is my sky,
and my orbs; not eclipsed,
crystal clear they gave sight,
but the blear is on nation’s eyes;
which rears its artists; corrupt,
and who of intellect; the good of heart;
into exile out— casts.
foraging for love O’ Bride; I deserted
and from illusions and tears drop;
for it; houses I construct;
found I the tryst of soil and sky;
of being; a mere dot,
but for love searching I keep
and wielding silence;
the endless I fight,
So, in my cage wept;
the bird of the time;
when his companion— saw
by the death— claw stabbed
And the singing halts.

Of ships O’ Bride;
in thee on the sun’s timber,
my back I rest—
attentive on silence— I keep,
and to the sea I plead for help;
Busy people are,
And the time swiftly passing by,
When the sun had its orbit done,
And the day had reached its end,
Take me; to the sea O Bride;
Of games bored my heart grew
And the head heavy—is;
with liquor and the arduous time,
Asleep are all the seagulls,
And none— left but your ship;
Dazzled by the endlessness; stunned,
Of ships; O howdah, O’ Bride!
swaying among the planets
Let the sea brisk— high
And you Fetch— me
to the light,
To the valley of the kings; O bride
of perfection see I;
bewitching— are the chariots of time,
reaching eternity at the sun’s temple,
lofty at the moment goodness is;
wearing her enticements of ALL;
from her shoulders; above—
consecrated sadness ascends,
by a royal parade and who been carried within;
Supplications rise— intense;
with the morning ascent;
glories rise;
gold— haltered horses upward take steps,
Thy parade; O brave with intellect;
Longing— for the moment since time began,
I scream; stop!
So, the God of time halts,
And my heart at sadness—
Like a slate stone paused,
And goddess lofty is;
Her breast in— soft vibrates; throb,
To the statue I looked up;
of Goodness; at the brow that was;
anointed by creation with wine and pride.
O friend, eternally here the rain trill,
And on a distant hill winter frown,
O Pharoh!
Immortalized whom with— God are
By the pyramids of thy,
Hasty come,
For someone in this age of dark,
Out of disgrace a pyramid construct.
Frowned the face of God in disgust,
So, the horses in anger whipped
And their backs in fire burst,
I screamed; Hold!
Hold, O eternal keeper,
Of thy love will the time come;
love soft is; yet in ALL dents,
And love found not; at first sight.
Bride of ships back to Earth fetch me;
So, in her my roots I extend;
For my sky of flowers is,
And in us soil and space unite.
then cometh full the circle, O Bride
but a question press;
whose blood is in the dark?
And around it into blossoms
come the eyes;
wide— awake through the night
waiting on corpses oiled;
by machines, blood, and pride
with blood the machines will
remain oiled;
And from them drawn;
a cloth of blood;
Until the land tells its judgments,
Bride of ships;
For the much oil one has content;
Each will with light— shine.