181. Doors Oft’ Lead to Nowhere


I pray this will not end the same,

As all things have before,

For I can’t take another fall…,

Close yet another door.

I’ve not the strength to walk again,

The endless empty corridor,

And op’ another unknown door,

Just to be left a whore.

A whore head-filled with ideal dreams,

Of given love received,

And given back with no expense,

Love there not deceived.

So ask me not to invest hence,

My heart unto your cause,

If you’re lost as to whether,

Concordance is without pause.

But still I pray this will not end,

A dream may be more yet!

That I may leave this doorway,

And prostitutions forget.

K. Aldaya, 10/25/05

Picture:  Photographer Unknown; https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/p480x480/314894_473340722694940_393520269_n.jpg


136. The Buried Past


How can I help you understand,

What I’ve seen and known?

If there’s something to comprehend,

It’s not to use that tone.

Exhuming secrets long o’er-grown,

Isn’t your work of hand.

Tell me how to explain in words,

The scen’ry shrouded,

With stinging o’er-powering senses;

Absorbing the clouded,

Days of what is sought in crowded,

Rooms, found afterwards.

Quick, be still.  Calm inquisitions.

Forcing forth sealed-core,

To recollect its’ provincial,

Ghost-shadows, broke and tore;

Which plague the confines to the pore;

In repetitions.

Please let the time forget itself,

Be ye still and know,

That although I may oft’ look lost,

Hope is found with cost low;

To all who seek to be thou so:

Dwellers for times’-self.

For time must seal itself a grave,

In everyone bound,

By the inhalant-smells of death,

Faulting ‘long cold, hard ground,

Spreading the stark resonant-sound,

Of the ancient knave.

For in each of us there lies,

What cannot be had.

To live, be, in this torrent-sea,

We must lose olden-bad,

And forget the set-stained sad of…,

Days lost to the skies.

K. Aldaya, 5/3/05

Picture:  “The Ecliptic” by Larry Landolfi; https://500px.com/photo/339318/the-ecliptic-by-larry-landolfi?from=user