On Reading
The Long Dark Tea-Time
of the Soul

by
Tim Lejeune


 

On Reading
The Long Dark Tea-Time
of the Soul

Wretched blade, that will not slash this throat
Wretched scythe, that will not end this life
Wretched pen, that will not carve out lies...

A Salsa enters the room and sits
where none had sat before,
ordering muffins and scones.

Life reflected virtually on the walls,
the lovers resplendent take refuge
among Asgard's sacred halls.

Slowly, the blue lining clears up
no longer clutched 'round bullet
or spilled from the shaft.

A coincidence, you see,
nothing more.


Untitled

Man has looked into the dying fire far too
many times - the fading sparks kindling his dreams,
his faintly glowing hope - with his last waking
thoughts always on the flames who, though not alive,
fiercely struggle to survive -
consuming, burning, murderously raging
against the cold and the dark, unrelenting

until

all wood gone, the energy depleted -
animals lurking on the very edge of sight
for one, horrible moment absolutely no light -
Then, massive, breaks the dawn
and the real Fire shines, renewed,
from the sleepy eyes, unbearably bright.



Going

Blackened by passion she moves
up and through dimensions of time
the flames lick her female form clean
and I leave her, as her hands left me

Blackened by a chain of pyres
that lit the night and drove it
from our room, out the door
and illumined our impoverished

Black souls. And so, dear friend
fire who to the other us had sent, so
we were, once-white, we went and
saw each-others' blackened eyes

Never,
Nevermore.


Eben Haezer

I draw the line here,
For you all to see:
This far - and further nothing! -
Reaches this Universe I call me
And that in it, mine

I cannot know what you hear,
Or may sense in any one way
- Speak not of taste, or colour, or anything
You might suffer, fear or pray -
Just leave me in my bliss divine

I discern my dark from my clear,
trust not whatever beyond lies;
keep your gray, your gold, your everything
they mean naught to my human eyes -
guardians fierce to this precious shrine...


Untitled


I'm afraid to be
alone in the dark
I guess a quality
I lack, courage,
and a brave face,
never seemed to work for me.

Night threatens to
break in and rob
the shadows from
my dear company,
not even music can help that.

Now, so I must
cheat the present
by sleeping
dreamless,
to pay for my shameless
sleepless dreaming.

And get stung by these damn
mosquitoes

 

2002
Tim Lejeune