by Jeremy Limn
Introduction
This part Three of The Diary Series. A dialogue between two lovers before the end of the world. Jack and Megan investigate the great questions of love, tomorrow the world is set to burn, but they wanted to spend their last night together and feel the endlessness of love. They wanted one moment where they were perfect in their love.
Endless Night
Megan: ’’The world Jack is so harsh, cruel, capricious and mean spirited. How could love ever flourish in a place like this?’’
Jack: ’’Love Megan is a temporal, but eternal state eternal when we seek it temporal when we are self indulgent. The world may be filled with bitterness, but ultimately it is our choice to respond to the bitterness.’’
Megan: ’’But if God so loved the world and gave his only son that we should no longer perish but have eternal life then why is there still wars?’’
Jack: ’’Eternal life begins now when you kiss me, when you hold me it begins there when you make the choice to love me so.’’
Megan: ’’My choice is to watch this night go on forever as if it were an endless night; as if the very shadows were afraid of our love. They should peel off our skin because of our great love.’’
Jack: ’’Megan my dear lover, and dearest friend if we watched the world burn together, but thus were holding each other until the very end then that’d purify me dearly.’’
Sorrowed
Megan: ’’Sadness this everlastingly power soul squeezing feeling sucks the life out of me Jack the end is tomorrow, but what do I do about the now?’’
Jack: ’’Hold me now, caress my skin tenderly and the endlessness shall waltz in unannounced.’’
Megan: ’’Emptiness can be pitifully interesting the nothingness that which goes on forever a war inside my lips.’’
Jack: ’’This night this moment this kiss is all that matters not the end of tonight, but the beginning of our kiss now here and now.’’
Love Questions
Megan: ’’Jack do you really love me?’’
Jack: ’’Love to me is a verbal heaven, when we allow ourselves to be immersed in the doubt, and complexity of this breathtaking feeling, yes I do love you Megan endlessly. More than you can define it more than you’d wish it, Megan my whole life is in this very second before the universe, and time collapses on itself I shall always be holding your hand when the black hole swallows or of creation mercilessly. My love shall always escape the event horizon my love is more powerful than the time collapsing on itself. My love is forevermore my nightingale.’’
The Best In Others
Megan: ’’I always see the best in others Jack, but they always screw me over.’’
Jack: ’’The problem with seeing the best in others is that you don’t see the best in you. The best in others will come if you see the best in yourself, and love yourself.’’
Nothingness
Megan: ’’I feel nothingness now the end is almost here.’’
Jack: ’’That feeling you are portraying is undoubtedly sincere, and true. But nothingness is a choice, we choose to feel that way because we are convinced nothing has material value. What you are really doing is giving that nothingness value even though nothingness is complete without material value. You affirm that, but if you stared at the stars more; the nothingness fades away. My love for you is stronger than the nothingness, you will see I am the star you cannot blot out.’’
God In Us
Megan: ’’Does God love me?’’
Jack: ’’God is in you, if you are loving yourself God is active in your life. God is the image of love, and thus when you are loving yourself God is forever present.’’
Doubt
Megan: “This night Jack is making my heart flutter on fire and the tendernesses of this darkness is burning me.”
Jack: “My heart flutters too my sweet.”
Megan: “The doubt within on me is forcing the love out of me, am I had to think this way?”
Jack: “It is natural to feel that way just don’t give into it my honey.”
Grief
Megan: “I hate sadness; especially when my brother died in a motorcycle accident. It is a deep scarring pain that never goes away.”
Jack: “In time grief will become your acceptance; as powerful as death can be it is an important lesson. We learn so much from grief, that it makes us more strong. As painful as that sounds their death becomes your death, and in the end you become whole again, reborn.”
A Moment of Jack
His heart
flutters love into
A Moment of Megan
Her hands speak a language known of the heartstring and her lips resign into sweet darkness. All I know is that her warmth has marched into my soul with the musicality of death.
A Poem
I sing of despair and
I spread my arms towards
love in love my last arrow
is for her skin that penetrates
my soul in death I become
her and she becomes that
arrow which becomes the
only star of love
The heavens
Jack: “Somewhere in the heavens we are already known. In the dining room of the stars we shall eat to love.”
The Darkness
Megan: “Why am I lost in the darkness, and why can’t I find the light?”
Jack: “Perhaps it’s when we most want the light that the darkness comes. There is sensitivity there, the darkness thrives on our senses. But when we do not seek the light, it comes often, and more powerfully.”
Darkness Poem
in the darkness there
is a stark spark
never give it
any attention
then you’ll know
I Love You Megan
Jack: “I love you Megan, my heart and soul cannot comprehend this love that has carried me towards your eyes. In peril, and in life I shall hold onto your arms. Even when the volcanos explode, and war breaks my lips shall printed on your eyes like a lilac always growing in light.”
Roses
Jack: “It’s typical to be in the darkness. It is typical game to be fighting against be shadows, but seldom do we acquaint ourselves the roses. Their thorns can grow, and wither the darkness.“
Megan: “I feel the thorns within like the Tuscan sun.”
Togetherness
Togetherness melts shadows like butter in a frypan.
The Mystery of Love
Megan: “Love is so mysterious where does it come from?”
Jack: “ Love comes from within as weirdly, and strange as that is love becomes real in union. In union with yourself and others.”
I Am On My Way Home Poem By Jack
I am on my way
home if that is kissing
you in the rain then
I’ll wear my coat so you
can smell my blood
my shadows fall off
scabs bedbugs weeds
of the damned
love always
plants roses in
the dark hoping to scar
its bark
The Gospel
Megan: “What is the good news?”
Jack: “The good news is you in my arms, and the gospel is your lips stained on mine ironed with fire. I love you dear sweet heart you are my gospel, I cannot die without you in my arms.”
Originality
Megan: “What is originality?”
Jack: “Originality is love it is the only idea that changes. Love changes everything, thus love can be the only power that makes things original.”
Death
Megan: “Is death helpful?”
Jack: “Death enables life to move on, and love is the driving force of death. Often people are afraid of death because they are afraid of decaying into nothingness, but isn’t the real case, if you had faith in your death it is a release from bondage, and the struggles of being human. Death prepares us for forever.”
Ataraxy
Ataraxy
is a sweetness
known by
the faithful
but a poison to
the unfaithful
Hamlet needn’t
see a skeleton in
the closer for his wounds
are his failures not because
Luminous
You touch my lips because you have
enabled yourself to enjoy creation
You have come to
a point in your life that
you have made the
A Poem For Doubt
Loneliness withers in me
but love almost is loud
and my darknesses are not
proud your beauty
becomes me
and I find you in
the ashes of my
tears the endless
night is my whisper
of gold, your eyes
do not make me cold
just hold me hold
Earth Poem
A poem is a emergency
it is my duty to give
nature her eyes back from the darknesses of the
world that mingle
with the wrong fires
it is my duty to give
nature her expression
back through the neck
of my words and the sword
Language
Megan: ’’Jack What is language?’’
Jack: ’’Language is a music we must play, without it everything would utterly meaningless. Language is the music of the soul.’’
Lastly
We must thirst
for beauty as
Evil
Megan: ’’Why does evil exist?’’
Jack: ’’Evil is a necessary force for good without it nothing is possible. Without disorder without the very hells of who we are, we would never be able to find the light.’’
A Letter For Megan
I imagine as this endless night ends, I shall be grasping your lips with every breath that, I have left. I cannot fathom what death feels like, but I can fathom what death will feel without your lips touching mine.
Glow
I present my
love for you
to eat as long
as you want thirst
for my body linger
in my flowery flow
The Poem of Her
Azalea, the passionflower realm,
it’s where the blue white
honeysuckles & cornflowers
assemble the poems of her magnificence,
the chirps of bluebirds suckle
every grain of her blueberry
eyes, lush meadows filled
with her oak tree forests,
it’s here the diaries connection
to me stupendously kisses
me softly through time,
our memories are the toes of Maia,
the breath endeavouring
our extemporaneous void choirs,
aghast the winds of the
eastern dirge hurricanes, for the
gerbera daisies abides in words,
in the words of tornadoes,
pallidly I dive into her moon
eclipse breasts I see some
quivered poems is it just me,
or do words writhe our hearts
into cocoons of melancholy,
the moments of elucidation,
our dreams uphold the
apothegm decay? where does
our truth lay as I write
more I rot in the luminoferous
ether it’s here I become a blackhole
this erodes us by into the
Death Before His Eyes
His death flashed before his eyes on this endless night. He walked to her to the alter, and wasn’t hesitant, but fully encapsulated by her mysterious beauty. Beauty was so hard to understand in a world of continuous wars, famines, and genocides. Underneath those ruins lie beauty a power resistant to change a power resistant to time. And so his death was a song and she was his love.
A Letter For Love
I love you never feel alone I am always thinking about you. As you are a part of forevermore praise that fact!
Money
Jack: “What would you want if you could live your life over again?”
Megan: “I don’t want to live my life over again if that means not seeing you smile, or ever not kissing you. These mansions; the suburban lifestyle grand steaks, walks in Yellowstone national park money doesn’t matter. I value your lips over reality, and time. Don’t you see boy I god damn love you.”
Babylon
We were naive to think
that the Babylonian
gardens would hang over
us and protect us
there lies the void
but the undeniable beauty
that we choose to wake up from
our own darknesses
in trying to avoid
death Xerces
fell into the fires of
himself power doesn’t
last forever no demagogue
can be eternal you will burn
shadow a moth unchained
from death always
It Is Up To You
Beauty lies in
dismounting the
shadows in which
we sleep in we
are responsible for
our thoughts, they
can be a charnel house
or they can be a place
wherein stars can be born
Negative Thoughts
Pay attention to
your shadows
throw a blanket
over your negative
thoughts let the warmth
of your spirit
be your new
To Know You
It is a privilege
to have a mind that
can make stars out of
problems; it is a privilege
to know your eyes
it is a privilege to know
that you tried
it is a privilege to be
happy it is a privilege
to be sad, it is a privilege
to be glad it is privilege
to see you mad
it is a privilege to know
To Know You
It is a privilege
to have a mind that
can make stars out of
problems; it is a privilege
to know your eyes
it is a privilege to know
that you tried
it is a privilege to be
happy it is a privilege
to be sad, it is a privilege
to be glad it is privilege
to see you mad
it is a privilege to know
A silent riveting in the
catastrophes of love
therein the garden of
ambrosia angels is
contentment for
what was unkindly
lurking in the
behemoth shadows
of Jupiter complexity
becomes being and
the spirit yearns for
a blossomed truth
James Joyce sadly
permits the light to
be unkind, saturated
eye drops from the rain
of yesterday the equinox
being is frail; frailer than
the morose shelters of our
ideologies the fool himself
yearns to put his heroes on
a pedestal he yearns not to
think for himself but to let the
ideas of other men be his
own idea the baron of
The Matter of Her Heart
Send her poetry, don’t send a message saying hello or how are you. If her blood isn’t poetic, don’t talk to her. If she cannot read the metaphor in your calf muscle then don’t speak just walk away.
The poem has to fit her heart valve. If it does your poem was made to pump her blood cells. Your poem must bring oxygen to her blood cells. Because every poem is another heart’s valve. You’ve to fit that stanza into her respiratory system.
The Way Into Love
There’s always a way into love. We just gotta force our decaying lungs to do it with every grain of sodium within us. I don’t want to sound cinematic, but if love where a movie, and I was the director I’d be the one cutting scenes to kiss my actress. And if every day was a scene for our romantic wayfaring I’d be the Romeo not written in any play. Torching the cast, I’d force everyone to take a hiatus from the filming. So I could film myself with that lonely wanderlust starlet of the Glass House Mountains
An Alternate View of Love
Love is merely concrete acting. People break up because their partner wasn’t good enough to continue the scene. If you’re a shitty boyfriend you’re a shitty actor. Love is operatic imitation love is irrational theater. Romeo was a good romantic he could lie, and be an ingenious charlatan. Because in love we’re all charlatans, and mystics
Cold
Your hands are cold
open them to up
where love holds
your hands are cold
your hands are cold
open your heart up
to the sound of gold
open your heart to the
sound of gold
open your heart up
The Heart Cannot Lie
Megan: ’’Jack can the heart lie?’’
Jack: ’’The heart cannot lie; it was made to bring the truth however cruel the truth was the heart is not infatuated by feelings. The heart growls at deceit, and releases our delusions; for the heart is a universe of its own with its own laws, and rules. The heart lets go if needs to. But the heart cannot lie, and it never will.’’
What We Have Is Real
What me and you have is real. You don’t need to look at the stars to know that this real look within yourself, and own your tears own your body own your soul own your happinesses. I love you.
Passion
Passion in love is the involvement of the spirit renewing your life. Passion consequently frequents your life. You must gaze, and eye the earth in its simple beauty not in the fires of society, but in the fires of your own virtues in your own beauties seek passion above all else. It’ll intensify your mind, and make you kind.
Serotonin
There is serotonin
in her dress kiss her
in a Italian restaurant
the endorphins
will come
like a saint,
a star of
Serotonin
There is serotonin
in her dress kiss her
in a Italian restaurant
the endorphins
will come
like a saint,
a star of
forevermore