The Untitled Works

(17 untitled works from the notebook of the Dude known as Dylann)

Shake the thoughts of boredom
Relax with the glory of words.
Come to the kingdom of ghosts,
take my hand.

For it is time.
We shall go home.

Blue silk in the form of an octagon.
A tan glass of scotch in the form
of an alcoholic.

The music playing loud,
lyrics of yesterdays future.
What else has changed,
in the past ten days?

Nothing but the ice cubes.

Boyish, toyish, spontaneous chaos.
The writing of a will.
Beautiful thoughts of final wisdom.

I want to go,
            go to the end,
                            end of everything.

Give me the power of freedom.
Give me the battle of pride.
The lonely is the reason,
angels on my side.

Hey man do you remember Auroa,
that hot summer night,
Ya the second greatest Friday,
the twelfth of September.
The slumber party.

Let me remember everything.
Let the pimp of Broadstreet
live for ever.

Come on you remember,
Dont you?

What was the meaning?
Do you hold the tears of death
in your memory?

A small city, a smaller sense of direction.
Where do I go from here?
Emptiness, closed eyes of sadness.
I will never forget.
Never!

The beginning of my long journey
is ready to start.

The big picture,
a reflection of television,
a rebel flag,
a beautiful girl,
where is the meaning of life?

God, faith,
the power of resurrection.

Dressed in black,
overweight,
plenty of money,
quit my job,
where do I go from here?

Flash-backs
of
dangerous tracks

Remember everything,
if you don't,
they will.

For the arrow finally flies,
nothing shall be meaningless.

April first,
"fools day",
the end of everything simple.
The life around me will never
be the same.

The opening chapter,
the final farewell,
page one.

No motion,
a smiling happy time.
Peaceful in thought,
back on the edge of creativity.

Nothing clearer,
nothing simpler.
The end of an old song.

Take the record off,
turn it over.

The city lights blinking,
thunder storms falling.
The questions of life,
flickering,
deep thoughts,
the moment of escape.

Sun-light trying to smile,
a lightning bolt that cracked
the soul.
There's nowhere to hide.

For the night-fall,
is darker then you think.

The slow moving ship
the balance of two minds
who will write it
who will read it
another conflict of interest

A flip of a coin.

Who won?
I don't know?

Something in the night.
Anticipation in the air.
Sex cravings.
Will she be the one?

licking silk
tanned sand
your motions
my command

A phone call away.
Do you know the number,
of that special taste?

For the truth of the journey,
was hidden in words
from the past.

Try to figure it out
try not to sleep
The words of past wisdom
weren't that cheap.

A sense of despair,
a sense for the wrong direction.
People shout in anger,
Hippie
Long hair
Freak.
I laugh with anticipation.
Anticipation in the form of hunger.

Let everything disappear
The game is ready to begin
Silence!
Faces that witnessed the glory of truth.

The girl with the dirty smile,
lost in the seduction
of games.

The music playing softer
  hearts beating.

A glare in the direction of hunger.

A classical condition
A remorse point of view
Do they remember,
 the silent wisdom?

The morning of that special hour.
The slow moving walk of shyness.

   A calculated plan for freedom
         The touching of truth       
   A prophecy of pleasure

The kingdom sank without any distinction.

I just can't remember.
I don't know?
I'm scared,
never happened before.
A black out.
I just can't remember.
A half an hour out of my life,
maybe longer?

            Copyright ©1999 Ron ST.Clair