" THE CAGE " Don Larson 19-91
As the the cage closes in, a hand reaches out
clutching strands of freedom to be held in it's arms.
The capture turns the key, the hunter is me,
the man with the rage, the prey in the cage, are one and the same,
pulled to shreds by life's wondrous charms.
Axis in all from the middle run through.
Though askew it does seem, it is centered, and balance remains.
And all that we see is less than can be,
What can be shaken, can be taken, it is part of the game.
The unknown is the power that reigns.
As the sun through the eyes of the shadow reply,
the hand draws back in it's cage.
The hunter and hunted pull back into one.
The father is mother,the brother is son, the gentle are trying,
to shelter thier life from the the rage.
A figure in shadow does fade down into,
a corner of it,s barred restrain.
It's face held in hand seeking strength to withstand,
the master and capture, as it is living and dying,
in this Novel of pleasure, an pain.
" Rage of Tear " Don Larson -4-1992
Fist like a knife, rage like steel shank crushing all within it's grasp. As it's grip tightens, Joints in metal fingers glisten with the sweat and blood of any mans heart, as he escapes from the safety into the perils of chaos, deep in the clutches of a self hell, but no different than any hell any man could deliver or be delivered to. Restraints binding legs, ankles, and wrists, tied tightly. The tethers woven of soft smiles, and supple flesh. Thoughts and actions of persuasive subtlety slip into my head like a gentle cloud, yet crash through my thoughts like a hammer of iron, fighting me for control of my heart, and all that is attached. Guide the jagged edge into it's proper spot, the spot widening into an endless hungry crag. As I fall, my skin stretches when it snags on a barbed branch of bone fragment and matter. When the marrow cry's my name, I am released to continue my decent. Darkness succumbs me, I become calm in my frenzy. A manic fatigue becomes my resting point. The point of none, for no one. The void shall not prosper, as will anyone around it. To one man, vague lies,.. to another, vivid images of truth. All that touches does not embrace, all that will embrace does not touch.
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Don't worry about me Don Larson, 10-1-96
I've never felt so alone
as the tears come and go inside of me.
Should I whisper or moan,
or would any intention set me free?
But please don't worry about me,
there is no time (for you) to see.
In a world that's racing for it's destiny.
So I lie here alone,
and this fear in my heart must be of me.
Should I kneel at the throne?
or could it be his wish I cease to be
So please don't worry about me.
There is no time (for you ) to see.
In a world that draws me towards my destiny
I've never felt so alone.
As the Crow Flies
I feel eyes and hands from behind
Puppet strings pull stop and go
With my mind over cyclops eye
I beat straight from the heart that’s below
As the crow flies straight to the heart of the matter
That’s how I arrive then fade into the setting sun
The horizon spits forth a line
The heart beats two to the row
Eyes wide, gawking at rough and fine
We beat straight from the heart that’s below
As the crow flies straight to the heart of the matter
That’s how we arrive then fade into the setting sun
Arrive with the light, alive in the dark.
And the thunder, lets everyone know
The storm that’s arrived and soon will depart
beats straight from the heart that’s below
As the crow flies straight to the heart of the matter
That’s how we arrive then fade into the setting sun
HealingDon Larson, 6-21-92
Foreshadow:
Love on the wings of the emotional beast,
clutching tightly, two hearts to it's breast.
And those who were brought to such heights and released,
may they fall where broken hearts rest.
Body:
Love riding like a victim, on a winged creature in the night,
talons breaching what it holds so dear. And if it does relinquish
it's precious cargo, whether it be by design, or fatigue from the
weight of it's load, the damage is always more than what can be
seen, or told. No matter how tender the stroke of the talon, or
how gentle the embrace, the pain travels deep. Love on wing, hearts
held, and fallen. How do do heal the wounds to the heart that lie
unseen, alone, and isolated? No hands are gentle enough, no
potion strong enough, no words profound enough, and no embrace
seems to comfort the feeling, that nothing can sooth the hurt you
The weight
Time, so they say, is the only thing that will heal, but time
slows to a crawl when you pray for it to swiftly pass. Like a
cruel lesson that must be learned, life will teach it, by
dragging the soft underside of your unguarded emotions, slowly
through the jagged rocks, and briar of it's endless terrain.
Epilogue:
So if time be a savior, then savior be mine.
I pray that our passage together be kind.
My heart's feeling tender, and though your touch it may heal,
in the healing come scars, and the scars do not feel.
And how many times, will time be my friend?
before my heart is to hard, or I call for it's end.
The answer is known to me, here deep within,
on the strength of my faith, and the depth of my sin.
Rest..... Lay your head down and rest...........
The Arms of Romance Don Larson Feb 6 2001
The height of alive, the extender of time.
A reason to exist in this old world of mine.
In the words of a poem, in the warmth of a kiss
Unrequited love even carries its bliss
To rescue the damsel who belongs by your side
To chase away evil where ever it hides
That the blossoms of love may have every chance
To unfold to you in the arms of romance
Its absence can make your heart ache
Its presence, make the world shake
Time held at bay
Fear pushed away
The air more sweet
The world complete
When you are held in the arms of romance
Find it, look for its face
In everything you do - in every place
Youth is not just the young ones dance
It lives in the course and quest for romance.
Its absence can make your heart ache
Its presence, make the world shake
Time held at bay
Fear pushed away
The air - more sweet
The world complete
When you are held in the arms of romance
" Imbroglio Don Larson Mid 92
A circle of thoughts surround my mind, confusion, dashed with
sensuality, beauty cut with real, and unreal fears, eyes from
heaven, and hell, swirl to form black, and white patterned
clouds, all of this in a glittering flash from within your eyes.
The sparkle of nasty & nice, good & evil, desire & content,
weakness & strength, bitter & sweet, Love, hate, compassion & care,
are all there,in "the sparkle", the light of life that makes our all.
This one I love at home being so deserving, and I at times being so
negligent, yet a searching heart, and ego carry me to levels at
which I am at peril with my own emotional balance. I fear harm to
anyone, and wish none to all. Guard your heart, keep it in check.
I believe a heart is a love of it's own, so take to the pen, it
is the sword of the heart, the rod of the mind, friend to the
tongue that is tied, speech to the speechless, lover to the
lonely, and warrior of the soul
AWAKEN NOW 200 something
I can't believe, I'm in this shape again
Every time the sadness starts is when I thought it would end
it seems I can't receive and I can't give in
the old nature of man tells my heart to be strong is to fend
But I see you through my window in the morning light you send
and I hear your voice it's asking me to "awaken now"
It's such a simple thing, that it’s hard to keep in sight,
Just ask and you’ll receive the gift of light
I see you as I gaze into the wonder of the night
I hear your voice it's telling me "awaken now"
Thrill me and fulfill me with your spirit lord
Nowhere else in this world can I rest
Wake me I can feel you just out side my door
I hear your voice it's telling me "awaken now"
So come fill me now, give me sight where I am blind
I ask of you, your wonder let me find
I know you, and I know that you always have my heart in mind
I hear your voice it's telling me awaken now
the keys to the highway
I gave you the keys to the highway, You cruised it and followed it through
Just to notice would’ve been enough from you
But you gave it to yourself. There isn’t anybody any body else.
Where might you be if I hadn’t stopped you on your way
To hand you the people and the tools, that took you where you are today
No brag, I know you know, to sell is not my game
Without the keys I gave you, you would not be the same
I gave you the keys to the highway, You cruised it and followed it through
Just to notice would’ve been enough from you
But you gave it to yourself. There isn’t anybody any body else
I still know all the givers that handed me my keys
I give my humble thanks to them even on my bended knees
No man is made alone but and I’m sure you will answer this
With words to justify, maybe a slap where should be a kiss
I must have missed a light and got lost along the way
But I don’t remember deceiving you or leading you astray
On what or who I am and I’ve been here since memory began
If you never knew the child you don’t half the man
Pedestals are built by fools designed to crumble and fall
Beneath the image put upon them, like pins in a Voodoo doll
But the only place this happens is in a mind that’s unrequited
When expectations never filled turned turn the admired into the slighted
I gave you the keys to the highway, You cruised it and followed it through
Just to notice would’ve been enough from you
But you gave it to yourself. There isn’t anybody any body else
Circles Don Larson -91
"
In circles we travel straight line or not,
Around it comes, around I go.
No real shelter, to much to know.
You can't tell what you have, or have not got,
For in your journey around you may see,
The highest taxed are the free
A darkened image of the world I view.
Fear that burns within helpless tears,
That rival pleasure through out the years.
The world in rhythms, and rhymes, passing through,
We grow from seed, we dissipate,
what we don't understand, we regulate.
It's guilt at the center, from first day, to last.
It serves to confuse me,
On what should, or should not be.
The worlds beyond ours, must be endless, and vast.
So small are the stones we throw,
That skip across the world we grow.
An existence so small, to bear so many faults,
Most of them creations of our own,
And what don't create, we take on loan.
So feebly we reach forward, that we run to the vaults,
To barrow from the old sin,
when we've not enough within.
So how do I fair through this world that I see,
Guided by circling guilt, and fear ?,
Or fighting their grip,year, by year.
Would breaking these bonds be freedom for thee ?,
Or structure, mortor, and lath,
To build for the world, one more Sociopath.
