Wed, 19 Jun 2013 02:12:27 -0800WeeblyWed, 10 Aug 2011 14:50:35 GMThttp://www.kalafarnham.com/2/post/2011/08/frosty-snapshots-of-a-shattered-past.html(January 2007)

Keep whispering soft affections in my ear
Of the senescent memories past
For the sound waves graze foregone sentiments
And my hunger, undying, springs in your hands.

Frosty snapshots of a shattered past:
The clock strikes timelessness
Whilst frostbitten lovers set flame
And, having begot mystical powers
Fall victim of an untold army of metaphysical skeptics;

Glossy effervescent lamps, mesmerizing and benign
Obscure the ominous approach of predestined fate.
Tangled in human knots, hands link and lips tease,
Yet darkness, though meaningless amidst the warmth of adolescent affection,
Preys on the fleeting timelessness of pseudo-immortal love;

We uttered enigmatic secrets, sheltered by sympathy
While unbeknownst to our childish senses,
Fickleness crept along the wavering bounds of our refuge.
It left tell-tale footprints time and again:
Neither you nor I wanted to see.
Oh, how young minds do as they please...

My eyes open as bittersweet reveries slip out of my grasp
Lost in a whirlwind of faulty memories:
Nothing of past is as it seems,
And the truest sense of our past
Lies only in the gentle assurances of your kind words.
So please:

Keep whispering,
Keep whispering soft affections in my ear
Of the senescent memories past
Where sound waves grazed foregone sentiments
And my hunger, undying, sprung in your hands. ]]>Wed, 10 Aug 2011 14:48:56 GMThttp://www.kalafarnham.com/2/post/2011/08/two-short-poems.htmlOctober 2010

What if my purpose in life
Was to relay to the world how grateful I am for you?
I would take all the intricate lessons you've taught me
Tied and securely fastened in my heart, going nowhere
And with them I'd sprout into a thousand glowing flowers
And create a meadow for the world to walk through
Then they would see with their own tired eyes
All your color and brilliance and light
Shining, all sparkly-glowing along the veins of my petals
In my tulip and forget-me-not meadow.



July 2009

fashioning rainbows of the most fluorescent stillicide.
I collide with myself in the most brilliant spectacle -
Overridden drops
of incandescent sentiment
pummeling my back,
Internal betrayal
thwarting the weary mechanism,
The shocking contact of skin against a mask
So convincingly
fabricated
Of relics
past.



October 2006

Some ilk of biliousness, cascading
Plunging
Spraying omnipotent specks of a pernicious bacterium
Enough to churn the insides of one's pneuma...
I had the most tenacious impetus to purge.
Some kind of toxicant skulked
Like a small omnivorous canid...
Imbuing the popular psyche.

]]>Mon, 20 Jun 2011 16:08:44 GMThttp://www.kalafarnham.com/2/post/2011/06/hue-and-yore.html
I rest my gaze upon chromatic hues,
a self-crafted rainbow
birthed of a misty haze;
Reflection supersedes
yore ache.
 
Hue, imprisoned in a prism;
to bend but not to break.
 
Hue.
Racing at the speed-of-light pace
to reach and grasp and harness
a spectrum of sooth at peace.
 
There am I, wide-eyed dear
Stunned, still;
Beholding, held.
The illuminated bystander
of this bright fluorescent sight.
 
And through mine aspiring eyes
hue moves faster forward toward me,
Twisting and transmuted at a speed of lightness
superseding sight.
Inner vision clandestine,
verily warped distortion of an alternate life.
A deep-seated soliloquy:
Only mine.



]]>Fri, 06 Mar 2009 01:38:17 GMThttp://www.kalafarnham.com/2/post/2009/03/islet-of-refuge.htmlShelter. What I've found
Tangled in the offset timing of truth
Its blunt inconvenience plain in view.
Peace, when at last found,
Nothing like emptiness -
But pure and whole in silence.

Floating within all this chaos
I plant myself on an island sanctuary -
Moments of solace permeate my skin,
My scars pale and fade in tingling sensations.
Faith gropes now for validation; once spoiled sour
Stifled under the incredulous reprimand of skepticism
And now untethered on an islet of refuge.
Trust runs free.

]]>Mon, 02 Mar 2009 17:50:46 GMThttp://www.kalafarnham.com/2/post/2009/03/the-actor.htmlPaint on a genuine smile, rehearsed
Drilled...
Day to day, for days on end
'Til every day is déjà vu
And facial contortions are no longer
An expression of the inner soul
But a plastered-on artistic endeavor
Summoned at will.

In solitude the actor peals off his make-up

And stares in the mirror at Cold, Harsh Reality

Not “genuine” at all

And he realizes
He has become accustomed to his Costume.

]]>Sun, 01 Mar 2009 11:33:49 GMThttp://www.kalafarnham.com/2/post/2009/03/first-post.htmlI am first and foremost a songwriter, but for some words there are no music; or perhaps the music has not yet been found.

This is a place for my songless verses.

]]>