Biography of Josh Weiss
I am going to the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign.
Josh Weiss Poems
Truth, what is truth? And is it aloof? And if it is, where is the proof? Is it something that comes in a revelation, Does it follow some grand divine presentation?
Along the beachside ocean shore, Where winged angels and seraphim soar, Stretching close to that seaward way, As the sunrise begins the day,
Saint Of Sin
On the other side of reason, Beyond the site of fate, Something other than what we want, Lies something all must hate.
Man, from time to time, does what he means not, And so this remains man’s sorrowful lot. He does not always say what he means to express, Sometimes with love, it is anger he does profess.
Cain And Abel
le meilleur des mondes possibles. -Leibniz. The lonely lamplights flicker upon lonely streets,
Man's Best Friend
As it was when we were together young, Both friend and I ran, And as it was when the serene wind sung, It was dog and man.
Abandoned and in sorrow I stood alone, where the whispering winds were blown. Upon the dark field I was that night, willing to stand for the final fight.
What Babies Dream
Have you ever wondered what babies dream? wonderfully different than ours it would seem. Without knowing the great sin of this land, Their dreams before them remain so grand.
What is this beat, Echoing from below Moving my body Moving my core
Silent passings to a friend, and dear emotions I do tend. For love is a mighty force, smooth from afar but truly coarse,
This pain inside my chest, ironic and does not rest. For every thought of her, choirs of angels there were,
Awarding oneself with countless beauty, arising tall with the sense of duty, to climb the straits of senseless seas, cross the valleys with endless ease,
She had eyes the deep brown of desire Fanning the flame of that yearning fire, Brown hair swaying along her waist, As she turned around and we faced
Washing aground the water ripples wave, Silent in night that mighty darkness brave, Hushing the shore with mother-like love, Endlessly watching the stars high above,
Darkening, the western sky grows weary of light,
And with the shift of a great shadow comes the night.
A chilling wind whispers across the great plain,
As rolling clouds thunder and begin to rain.
Falling cold rain – like tears of the blest –
For the heart of man within his breast.
Piteous tears falling far from on high,
From the kingdom of light within the sky,
That quivers in a torrential choke of sorrow,