Eliot (cirrhosis) wrote in poetry4healing,
Eliot
cirrhosis
poetry4healing

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Incomplete



10th century
Aphrodite’s rest
Eternal sleep is the God
We worship in our sleep
Where dreams meet our souls
Sickened with opened eyelids
Destroyed for the broadcasted
Signal of our sweet demise

Perfection only lies
In the eye of beholders
And to be with perfection
Is to be without Life
Buried beyond mistakes
Sipping sick Underworlds

A broken and
Mended looking glass
We mentioned our saviors
Muttering between thunder
Where the edges of the sky
Meets our waking freedom
Found to be untrue by those
Who walk on themselves

Perfection only lies
In the eye of beholders
And to be with perfection
Is to be without Life
Buried beyond mistakes
Sipping sick Underworlds

If all we do is all we are
Then perfect is in death
As we are in born again
What is the love
You’re after this time?
Where is the love
I’ve disowned this life?


As rarity turns and
Gives way to grace
What have you done
With the children’s wheat?
Falling down stairs
Of Oriental crowns
Is where I’m found

As death lies
We lie twice
Where we were
Is who we were
Claiming for a chance

Buckets of rivers
Rivers of souls
Souls of unrequited
Love

With cure comes regret
As we are with disease
Where could we hide
The heart of our child?
Woken and stirred
By familiar hands
Is where I’m lost

As death lies
We lie twice
Where we were
Is who we were
Claiming for a chance

Children of thunder
Thunder of souls
Souls of unrequited
Love


These are the dusty roads
We led ourselves between
From here to a lost cause
Of our secret youth
The misdirected hunger
Unleashed on anyone
We thought were one
Of our sacred youth

Staring down suns of folly
We smiled as we stumbled
To forgotten tombs and
Abandoned thickets
That claimed our afternoons

Wandering forever
To flatter ourselves for
The rusted I-beam stars
And the stolen youth
The railroad runes
In seeds of celebrities
The love we aroused
For the strangled youth

Staring down suns of folly
We smiled as we stumbled
To forgotten tombs and
Abandoned thickets
That claimed our afternoons


The Gods we claimed
In the name of freedom
Destined to solve as
We dissolve anyone

What nights have molded
Men and boys alike

The unrequited youth
With unrequited rage
The riddles that we
Could never open

What nights have molded
Men and boys alike
What years have molded
Men from boys like these

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