Biography of Iam notThou
Iam notThou Poems
The Flower Of Leaves
The Flower of Leaves, does not speak, nor sing! She breathes intensly and plays on sweet strings The Flower of Leaves, in spring, does not bloom, She hangs in the heat and weeps low in gloom
Tomb Or Tumor
A bell am I, so is the brittle frame For now when struck but sounds a sinking knell Tis her, the hammer, without thought or aim Surely Loneliness' chill fears Hell's thick flame
Trees And Seeds
Hideous trees are the seeds of my soars The garden maid chokes on a bestial roar I'll spend my life up mending tea cup's tears Yet my handshake's still as honest as a whore's
Clover on the ground is shot for our guns Battlefields poisoned with the tears of our son Showers of Spring mask the mixing of blood-
Olive And Pearl
My brother holds his missing eye outstretched in his palm With this hideous stare like a bruise on a pearl While he runs towards the line, rich with aplomb Your sweet name on his lips as they rise and curl
Well the girl with the umbrella, she's pretty and all But the Rain loves her! -more than i'll ever know She walks against the tempest tears, but O the Wind cries, 'my dear, my dear...
Come, Calm The Strings
Come, calm the strings and poison their noises, The white-robed choirs with their golden voices, They hang their heads and burn the hymnals, Humming the dirge of exhaled smoke signals.
What Colorless Sunshine
What colorless sunshine beams from her eyes That meets said moonlight in heav'nly liason? While she wakes early 'gainst the horizon, Hues unknown by angels brighten pale skies.
Do Thy Dare Claim Angel
To be painted like genuine moonlight, That spill'd from thine eyes in generous flow; O Come, sweeping shadow, on t'ward the night! Back'd by thy sainted sky of scarlet glow;
Align! Horsemen, on this grave night of fire, Who bear the chariot of whom I desire; Which rides in darkness with smok'd wheels a flame, Out from oblivion with ruinous claim;
Like The Organ's Pipe
Like the organ's pipe, her voice does inspire Horrors and alure on trump'teer's sunrise By the stringed tongues of the devil's choir A demon should speak in maiden's disguise!
Like The Organ's Pipe
Like the organ's pipe, her voice does inspire
Horrors and alure on trump'teer's sunrise
By the stringed tongues of the devil's choir
A demon should speak in maiden's disguise!
O, desirable maid of obscure night!
How does she respond to my desperate cry?
O, How she does sing of unhallowed plight!
Where twilight's mist is but broke by her eyes
For if she not wake, I dare not survive,