A Lesson

I laughed with dried tears
fell backwards upon my bed
and smiled enchanted
sinking into a cloud

like a child recovering
delicately from a spanking
flushed cheeks and puffy eyes

and once again that damn
happy grin returned smitten
plastered across my face
over a lesson unforgotten

~Emily Loren Moss Ferrell
written 06/11/2010 3:01 pm est

Absence of a Muse

words haven't appeared
images don't occur
I can't hear your sweet chaos
nor find the root of my content

desperately scrolling
amongst a crowded room
for one more subtle event
where one moment
is frozen in priceless collection

Somewhere In Between

somewhere in between
the sparkling pink bones
of our delicate existence
there is a connective, collective,
clear pool of subconsciousness
and in that space...
simplicity sits complacently
in silence and dust
that is the secret

Cultivation

there isn't really much to remember
nothing solid nor concrete
yet, it's remembered and it was only yesterday
branching at interludes, flooded with tears
tickles up spine, blossoms through elbows
rooted in the pit of an empty stomach
but most of all, it whispers through a soft silence
that has been there long beyond yesterday
tended slowly, subtly, sweetly taken over

Communication

words are not enough
without tone
language is limited
without touch
like a mouth taped shut
holding a war within

~Emily Loren Moss Ferrell
written 07/10/2010 3:48 pm est

Rapport

spent nights
intrinsically
smiling quietly

one can breathe
on pictures and words
and one cannot

yet both exist
with and without
reaching about

~ Emily Loren Moss Ferrell

Mania

I want to scream
tear at the flesh
that sits just beyond
my finger tips

in an immaculate joy
reach down to the other side
where the light flickers
and fire still resides
deep within an allusive belly ache

Autobiography of a Dream II

laughing at our selves
insignificant little fools like us
who wander earth in complete bliss
of imaginary conversation
long throughout the hours of sleepless nights

Relief

glass balls torment me
I want to smash them
upon the pristine pavement
I want to roll upon the shards,

weep upon the empty glass
and bath in this bloodied puddle of relief

Robots, Orchestra & Tones

mechanized strings reflect
inorganic tones of a discerning nature

and lying within these orchestral cells
there is a metallic wave

so minute we can't see it's crevices
but feel it's presence in palm of hands

with our own paths strung in unison
a symphonic mass permeates

the expressive fields of our ensemble

(written for Linear Bells, album, available here: http://linearbells.bandcamp.com/album/robots-orchestra-tones)

Untitled

scattered among stars
the gods clap and laugh
pushing and pulling words from my mouth
celebrating on this celestial stage of wonderment

Pole of Inaccessibility

this intrinsic desire
sickens me beyond belief
every hour I scream for more
and wail for what I cannot speak
for what lies just beneath
a subliminal surface
 
underneath this obscurity
words whisper and images appear
desperate for me to grab
the meaning of the moments
and tenor of the times
to find the sensual in the minimal
and breathe through the lines

Roses

roses shed pale pink hues
and in this great flood
I slip off my shoes
to bathe in bare footed pools
and feel it's tint beneath my toes

felt a thousand thorns
in their blooms
sick with beauty
thick with impending pain
and what they said remains
an echo of my frustration

Cultivation II

filtered through the upper window
gathered green swallows clouds
rectangles grace the room
in a billow of light
and I've sat here before
unaware of it's luminance
presented in a room once known
I cultivate in this room of one's own
swirling contentment
coloring arms and staining legs
worshiping the solstice of a summer undone