Quixotic Dreams Amid the Slumber of Ages

Quixotic Dreams Amid the Slumber of Ages

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Tuesday March 25, 2014

Years pass, and I toke my grass, the hippie within speaks

And you lend to me your right ear, cautiously an optimist,

Crying for reasons in a realm where we dare not claim so

Much as a twitch nor scratch of this apparition of a frailty

Where one is expected to never stop at the tracks nor ever

To pass go, and so the story goes, the moon, the sun, etc.

But if I ramble along, opining as I do of a universe to speak

Where the sun never sets upon the empire of one, the state

Sovereignty where you and I may be free, to allow to just

"Be," to just decry of fallibility and the imperfections never

To die, only to multiply, of a humanity only perfect due to

Its predestined state of collapse beneath the weight of itself.

The burden you and I bear will never be abridged, mitigated.

For you, Blue, I cry a sweet sigh, the tears which shed tell

If I am to do or just die, and my love for the zest of milk

And honey may be tasted only in my quixotic dreams amid

The slumber of age, the span a cosmos' ride through bleak

Skies ridden by Sirens' cries for a sweet summer ride along

The schooner towards the twilight of your sunrise's desire.

Candy from the Backdoor Man

Candy from the Backdoor Man

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Wednesday March 19, 2014 @ 6:51 AM

Lady Diamond, I shall sing of your tunes

As I walk, the conscious sufferer, of your

Wiles as the birds chirp and spring shall

Ensue a harvest of a new swarm, with so

Many honey combs within its confines, as

You, my queen, shall never be lost of your

Divine sovereignty of my dominion's day!

Come get your candy, for I will always be

Your backdoor man, and Toucan Sam, so

Exotic, can never bless you with his sweet

Identity, for you not only are my tres bien

Fete upon the sunrise of an eternal sky, for

I'll let freedom fly away, the buzzing zips

Past and winter again will slip a far until

The rapture cries "Armageddon" and God's

Seven trumpters herald a new age of peace

One thousand thither into a posterity only

To wave to us "goodbye," and how we shall

Fly shotgun across the cloudy pillows upon

Which we are resigned, the past is only just

A farewell, a slip of the chains prohibitive of

Our finite requisite pains as we are born of

A stench, sulfuric, as the fruit originally ate.

The swans swim the rapids of gentle ripples

Within our tryst, a bliss, of heavenly flight to

The city infinite by God in as we wave to all

"Goodbye," to see another sky upon the kiss

Of the sweet cherubs' wonders, as all eyes of

Babes penetrate their source for why the old

Stork placed in our arms my Sweet Chariot's

Troika for whom I allow lead my sleigh upon

A winter's discontent to His first star on the

Left till we reach our initial assent of a new

Sunrise at the dawn's earliest sign of light.

Springtime in the Southland

Springtime in the Southland

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Thursday March 20, 2014 @ 9:33 AM

Springtime breezes exalt me higher upon

The green grasses blue reach to tickle my

Ankles en route to my soul, and how the

Cold winter deprived me whole, and I'll

Sing the song the hummingbirds in love

Heralding the end of a blizzard only long

In brevity, never to deny my love for you. 

Shall we see sing of the rise of springtime 

In my Southland, and how the seasons sing 

To a fiddle amid mountain terrains? Shall

I serenade my sweet baby upon the rise of

The first warm sun with the kiss of a rose

As such a lovely incantation amid my old

Scots-Irish clansman charm and the wiles?

May I sing to you, s'il vous plait? J'taime,

Ma chere, to thyself and me be true...

Well the eagles fly around my beloved Smoky

Mountains high, the lone Olympus to my cold

Heart of mine bitten with Jack Frost's chilled

Nip at the toes, and how it aroused thy spirit

To subvert the icicle chandeliers' descent far

Beneath the abyss winter dug beneath the old

Marianas well, and the sun sold to her my old

Tales of brave Odysseus assailing a ten year's

Fortnight, but the nightingale will croon upon

The lark of a new tomorrow germinated from

My amorous incantation to a sweet sunrise of

Me with you at my side.

The Sun Baptizes

The Sun Baptizes
Written by Jonathan Henderson
Thursday March 20, 2014 @ 11:21 AM

Winter died for a thousandth Julian time
At the crossing of the great geographical
Divide, and how I herald Solis' emergence
From her hibernation decreed that it shall
Always forever be once upon a year, but 
Now, it's time to go, and the steel drums
Coronate you as the queen of my universe's
Isles of sweltering jungles so lasciviously
Begetting a new day for this Scots-Irish
Bloke comprising of an American soul and
How I cry for a death to an eternal eclipse,
A tryst, she calls my name, that dame, my
Lovely Lady Godiva, how I'll forevermore
Be your peeping Tom, for I wish to never
See another sight less than exquisite, for
You are my soul, and this, our Spring, will
Be forever ours, ma chere!

If the Sun Refused to Shine

If the Sun Refused to Shine

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Thursday March 20, 2014 @ 8:35 PM

At my night's descent upon a bush of rheumatic hands

And the sands cascade upon celestial stars over funnels

Through the black hole of my despair, and will you not

Simply catch me if you can? My space odyssey launched

For the nether sphere, and I shed for her a tear for my hot

Raging heart lies upon the day seguing into darkest sigh,

And I? Prithee, you are the greatest source of my soloist

Heart's to cry, to let my freedom fly till the day goes last.

If the sun refuses to shine, oh my sweet chariot to a city

Of golden fountains, and we? Beloved, entrenched solo.

If you sing of my tune, I shall cry beneath the full moon,

My nightingale, for I wish for you to deliver your lyrics via

Verse till my day rides high in your sweet chariot home.

Nature bakes beneath the requisite source of my life and

Happiness, contentment, and shall I inscribe for you how

You are my ray of sunshine, the spring begat new life as

The winter slaughters the final autumn flames that set me

Afire, and I pluck Cupid's gift, his lyre, making a noise of

Non description, but if I sing of your irradiating virtuous

Sweet chariot ride to that sun upon the horizon, let there

Never be another day polarized, for our ardor is but one?

Sacrosanct Commiserations

Sacrosanct Commiserations
Written by Jonathan Henderson
Friday March 21, 2014 @ 7:16 PM

I prayed night and day for you, yet I was swept
Along with the rest of the dust off your coldest
Shoulders, and while I die, languid, mired in a
Sweet despondency's, que sera sera. And while
The road less traveled is the same for me as its
Common fraternal son, for I never sought ever
Again to take the lane, but rather, I failed upon
My launch to a moon amid my fright of my loss.
The commiserations, sacrosanct they are, have
Killed me as only the Sabbath will always judge.

My Fair Andromeda, Lady Upon My Starry Night

My Fair Andromeda, Lady Upon My Starry Night

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Saturday March 8, 2014 @ 3:18 AM

The midnight maternity begat upon her big bang

A new world of celestial delight as I see opined,

Though she crossed paths with me, for she was

Ravaged by a sea of deceit amid jealous eyes, I

Hearken upon my Peloponnese lover as I coast

Aegea's gentle ripples baptizing me a trickle upon

So many, but I doth protest sans my telescoping

As if I am Tom though not the cat, and how she'll

Ravish me upon a dark sky's night so starry bright!

And how I'll want to see her this day each upon a

Night, and how she's felled over that crimson sea

Of red! Damn that rolling discontent since that ol'

Tiger left for me, or is she an eagle at war with a

Hawk devouring its beef stroganoff in Kiev? And

Shall cry for thee, my fair Andromeda? Will you

Love of me tonight? Shall you forever be mine?

Shall you be my lady upon my starry night sky? 

Say You Will, My Belle! My Leigh!

Say You Will, My Belle! My Leigh!
Written by Jonathan Henderson
Thursday February 26, 2014 @ 3:27 AM

Say you will, my belle! My Leigh!
I wish of no more but love of thee
But a moment's desire, and so on.
When I was as you see when my
Love spends no uncertain levels
Of your currency paying for love
With charm as but a commodity
When the bull raged freely, and
How my love for you, Leigh, will
Only resonate across time's tiny
Grains, as each is to have its say.

Oh, my love! Let it never end, no,
A world morally bankrupt and a
Day shy of Cupid, and yet I'd be
Well aware how wealthy we'd be,
My little sweet morsel, a chocolate
Tastier than the poet's commodity,
More riveting than a muse singing.
Taste me your lips so that they'll
Marry saliva, and I'll be yours, and
I'll always be yours....

Orion's Sky

Orion's Sky

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 28, 2014 @ 5:26 AM

Ode to a life less ordinary to you of me,

Of how I once was young and spry, so I

Called you so foolishly, and now I'm so

Old at heart, thirty-two scores far away,

Love never came, but I never knew "if"

She was slipping through the cracks, or

I was blind to see, blind that you and I

Should've coasted North to Orion's sky.

Shall I seek the mountaintops to scale

For you and I to fail, but ever so epic,

How I am to say what pain is, just to

Awaken to another sigh? 'Tis do or die!

How our lives are touched, we'll define

How the world sees light and our hope

Is Divine! How our love cuts through

The murky catacombs of blind grottos

As we sail in our gondola, the Venetian

Tales of old, our Italian meals with ice,

Our lives played instrumentally to an

Accordion's choir of a box so squeezed,

The canals flowing us along all of those

Hundreds, thousands, so many strong,

No forks in the road, for every path is

Paved with the gentle streams of ours.

Sevastapol

Sevastapol

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Friday February 28, 2014 @ 3:45 PM

An empire's poor amid a land the cossacks

Raged the steppes of her Muscovite fields

As tsars and czarinas sought southward a

Grab as the Winter Palace cast St. Peter's

Blizzard south to Crimea's Sevastapol, and

How the blood which spilled! Conscripted

Serfdom bled on the fields and died, and

How the English and French crashed there

And the Nightingale fluttered freely away,

And this is said - but I'll confess as it seems

As history never forewarns of a peace lost

Due to time's burrowing lessons failed in

Tests, and the people just cry how there'll

Be no gas left for them to pay as they whine

While Tartars wail amid pain as the wrath

Of the Kremlin's sickled past meets present

As it hammers their hearts while pummeling

Their prayers to the tricolor raised in war.

Terrible kills the son of the nation, a Great

Lashes the heir to St. Peter in the sky as he

Left his father's side in the city built upon

A wintery marsh, its blanket of snow, and

How the Holstein princess retracted land

Of her Turkish foes amid tradition's very

Battleground, how Sevastapol has fallen a

Great many times, and now she's in deep

Amid despair, troops snipping wings upon

The flight of a people's sovereignty amid

A nasty day, the Black Sea as eight score's

Tale resides within today's darkest times.

Disposed

Disposed

Written by Jonathan Henderson

Saturday March 1, 2014 @ 5:09 PM

The trash bin would be so clean for me

As the conscious weaver of my winter

Of discontent kills the sun's baking my

Skin that I wish to keep, but the weaver

Declares I'm the enemy to his state as if

I provide no good company but rotten

And rancid, and my variety spoils very

Quickly, and therefore must be disposed.

Crying a stream, always to chase one and

Another dream to exit my visions of each

Day consumed with moonlight, and how

The night is never young, but vibrant of

Geriatric thoroughfares to genres of weak

Discord, and my! How I've been detained

Beyond the steppes of Tibetan visions of a

World consumed of serene, serendipitous

Reaches for a star's delightful love for life's

Zeitgeist, but of my feisty resolve to fight

Each one and all defiant of my rights for a

Life of freedom and to live as I am always

To remain mired in an entangled of all the

Remaining seven billion sans the last one.