Poems about dust

We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass. . . '
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass. . . '

You say: 'We sit and talk, of things important. . .
How many others like ourselves, this instant,
Mark the pendulum swinging against the wall?
How many others, laughing, sip their coffee--
Or stare at mirrors, and do not talk at all? . . .

'This is the moment' (so you would say, in silence)
When suddenly we have had too much of laughter:
And a freezing stillness falls, no word to say.
Our mouths feel foolish. . . For all the days hereafter
What have we saved--what news, what tune, what play?

'We see each other as vain and futile tricksters, --
Posturing like bald apes before a mirror;
No pity dims our eyes. . .
How many others, like ourselves, this instant,
See how the great world wizens, and are wise? . . . '

Well, you are right. . . No doubt, they fall, these seconds. . .
When suddenly all's distempered, vacuous, ugly,
And even those most like angels creep for schemes.
The one you love leans forward, smiles, deceives you,
Opens a door through which you see dark dreams.

But this is momentary. . . or else, enduring,
Leads you with devious eyes through mists and poisons
To horrible chaos, or suicide, or crime. . .
And all these others who at your conjuration
Grow pale, feeling the skeleton touch of time, --

Or, laughing sadly, talk of things important,
Or stare at mirrors, startled to see their faces,
Or drown in the waveless vacuum of their days, --
Suddenly, as from sleep, awake, forgetting
This nauseous dream; take up their accustomed ways,

Exhume the ghost of a joke, renew loud laughter,
Forget the moles above their sweethearts' eyebrows,
Lean to the music, rise,
And dance once more in a rose-festooned illusion
With kindness in their eyes. . .

They say (as we ourselves have said, remember)
'What wizardry this slow waltz works upon us!
And how it brings to mind forgotten things! '
They say 'How strange it is that one such evening
Can wake vague memories of so many springs! '

And so they go. . . In a thousand crowded places,
They sit to smile and talk, or rise to ragtime,
And, for their pleasures, agree or disagree.
With secret symbols they play on secret passions.
With cunning eyes they see

The innocent word that sets remembrance trembling,
The dubious word that sets the scared heart beating. . .
The pendulum on the wall
Shakes down seconds. . . They laugh at time, dissembling;
Or coil for a victim and do not talk at all.

One day our sun will stop burning
One day the universe will freeze, contract, and be born again
Empires will fall and rise
Those we love will be born, and will die
But I could face all of this holding your hand
Watching the rest of the world crumble around us
As dust returned to dust

If all dreams are born in flames
And die in candle light,
Beneath sunken and wearied
Eyes in the night,
Rotting in apprehension
Of the dirt her bones will soon meet,
And wondering at the triviality
Of all the people she had been,
When she is drowned in the passage of time,
As all that had known of her
Come soon to share her fate...
­ ­... why try?

Was it a calculated
Risk, when it was poetry,

Falling like rains
On the parched lips

Of yellowing pages.
Like the stones of a

Grey mountain,
Singing a hymn to blasts,

Pick pocketing the sun?
I start reading the anatomy

Of violence, ever, never
Easy to understand.

Lots of red blotches
Were spread on the tiny figures.

Inside the shadows
My heart lays split
Tossing out all the pains
And troubles

Can't seem to cope with life
Seeing through storms
Becomes more difficult

My words are troubled
Heart lies in the dust
Heartache seems to drive me
Insane

Life
Why is it given?
When there is so much pain
Sometimes I want to leave
Find a place that is serene

My sighs are killing me
Heavy emotions entangle
Around my throat
Choking my life
Like a disease

Trouble and heartache
Follow slowly behind
Nipping at my heart
As it slowly dies

Happiness is so far ahead
How do you focus
When there is so much fog
Can't see the light
Through the shadows
On the wall.

By Weeping willow
(c)2016; -[

His is drug withdrawal,
But with a boy.
He's just sitting
On my bed side table
Staring at me and i
Keep cutting him
Into lines,
But i can't inhale him.

Can't inhale him cause
My nose is filled with blood
And if i tried,
I'd just be swallowing that.

The years are like dust to my path,
They blew with lost and crack my tears.
My tales cannot be told in fact
It have been a sojournal for years.
I search for my dreams in my fate
Like a dark labyrinth of time,
I long for the elixir of faith
And got lost in the creeds of my crime.
Heaven please bear me thy witness
My heart is running out of grace,
I want to be found in your loveness
But, how can i be blind to your trace?
My will drowning in a dillema,
The years, now like dust to my path.

Invest in change
The only certainty
Aside from death.