The Riddle

The Riddle

David James Westlake

This is the riddle of the owl

 

Of the man who weaves through the wool

The language, of a broken fool

Oh how I am cruel, so very cruel

To take from you

What was not mine?

Not a penny, But a silver dime,

And to throw it in the bin!

Forgive me father, is this the darkest sin?

It will be in these times

That we shall grow,

That we shall grow so big,

And overflow.

And make a swamp,

That feeds the crow.

And now the owl has come to say

Do not be afraid

Do not be afraid

For soon is the time

That I shall trickle down the serpent's spine.

It will be this day, it will be this day,

That I will say.

Rest your head, upon the sand

That the waves sweep in, upon the shore

Because today we will be sure

That there isn’t any more

But was there anything before?

For those like me, so much more,

So much more, forever more

Hour glasses broken, in our hands

We lay upon the beach, hands bleeding

Souls of bleach,

The same in everyone, and every each

Our souls will be free to go,

Can we really leave?

I do not know, I do not know!

Can we see the stars?

Can we wake them, with the morning sun?

No, you can not

You spent your life at your mother’s spoon,

And this is the time of midnight,

and the moon.

For those of the spirit of the owl,

Whose life’s where not and never so foul

You can come with me

You can come with me

I will show you the garden, and the tree,

They do not belong to me,

But forever with the trinity.

The trinity of symphony!

And finally we reach you,

Oh the world, morals of poor

With its bent back spines made of straw,

This world will have in store,

Nothing more, nothing more.

The Earth lays flat upon the floor.


Inspired by T.S Eliot

Explanation of metaphors

Explanation of metaphors

Hey Ms Adams, just thought I would try to explain my poems a little

My poems are using strong metaphors in the form of symbols of nature that are personal to me, they influence the way I reflect upon music, this is what inspires me to write.

I have decided to explain the meanings of some of these symbols.

The Garden:  this a world of the soul that all other symbols exist within, the moths, roses of red etc (except for the moon and sun, which relate to reality), the garden is a place within the mind that exists outside of reality, it is a land where the evil are painted a deserving portrait, I often compare the garden to Eden, although when I am doing this I am in no way trying to reflect religious views, this is only a way of describing paradise. The garden is a place of music, the heaven of music.

The moth: this is often used as a symbol of Beethoven, although the moth can be anything that is considered as “ugly”, or pathetic, either in “the real world” or by what is considered beautiful in the real world (the butterflies of blue etc), I often use this as a symbol of Beethoven because he was considered to be an ugly man, and was made to feel alone and treated badly by his father, the moth is a symbol of beauty on the inside.

The god of Violets: this is my name for Beethoven; I call him this because I associate Beethoven’s music with the color blue of violets.

The god of Roses: this is the name I have chosen for Mozart, because I associate his music with the red of roses. (P.S, Beethoven is my favorite of the two composers)

The Butterflies of Blue and Roses of Red: these are the symbols I use to describe the imposters of “Truth and Love”, because roses and butterflies are considered beautiful in reality, I chose for them to represent cynical morals within my poems, also the butterflies of blue fit in with the moths symbolic meaning, this is because moths and butterflies are similar except only moths are considered ugly and butterflies beautiful. If I where to call someone a blue butterfly or red rose in a poem, than I am describing this person as beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside in reality. In no way do roses of red relate to Mozart the god of roses.

The owl: the owl is my symbol for knowledge and the soul of music, it is similar to the holy ghost from the Christian faith, except only related to music. It is something which people can attain like enlightenment from Buddhism, Beethoven and Mozart can literally go into your musical soul through the spirit of the owl, often I describe the owl as singing, this is because one needs to hear the voice of the owl to become musically enlightened.(one needs to hear the voice of god “Beethoven, Mozart” to attain the holy spirit) Sometimes I refer to  the owl as,  “the bird of purity, symphony etc”.

The trinity of symphony: this is my musical version of the trinity from Christianity, it consist of Mozart (The god of Roses), Beethoven (The god of Violets) and the owl (the Holy Ghost). The reason that I use a Christian idea or principle in my poems is to express that music is like religion to me; That Mozart and Beethoven are not just men, but gods of music. In no way does this reflect my religious views, about Christianity or any other religion. I will state now before going any further, that I am not religious, and that the symbols within my poems with religious ideas are used in a metaphorical and not literal manner. I say this so I don’t sound like a crazy person who thinks Beethoven is literally god, although I do think he is like god in a philosophical way, but that’s a whole new can of worms.

The sun: A symbol of the heat of reality, when I compare something to or talk about the sun, I am referring to it In reality, I use the sun as this symbol because of the heat and uncomfortable feeling that the sun has on us on hot days, also because the sun is what wakes us every day, it takes us from our dreams and places us into the real world.

The moon: A symbol of the hidden beauty of music that lies inside reality, (unlike the owl which is the SOUL of music OUTSIDE reality which people can attain, like becoming enlightened in Buddhism.) Hiding from the sun which stands for  the dark side of reality, the moon must stay away and only come out at night when the sun is gone, this is because the world (being portrayed as dark, depressed and doomed)  is busy and has no time for music, although those who are patient and wait until it is dark can understand and see the glory of the moon, meaning those who are patient and forget about all stuffed up unimportant  !%$#(money, fame, greed in general) in the world, will understand and learn about the music which is beautiful beyond anything from within there world, The moon is a symbolic reason for us to want to live in this reality. It is the coming of the power of music.

Sorry Ms Adams if that made no sense; the symbolism of the moon is hard to explain in writing.

The crow: This is a symbol of pure evil, this is a creature that lives in “the garden” The crow is the absence of symphony, a symbol of hell on earth.

Midnight: This is the symbol for music being in power, because during midnight the moon is always in the sky and the sun has gone away. Midnight is when the voice of “the owl” can be heard, I chose midnight for this meaning because of the mystery and strange beauty that the night has, it is a time where all the shops, banks, schools, cars, shut and stop for the day, it is a time where you can go for a walk and you won’t see anybody, the world can be yours at midnight, also music brings out more emotion at midnight, parts of Beethoven’s 4^th become absolutely horrifying to listen to when its dark.

(Midnight and moonlight are what connect reality to the garden, the world of reality to the world within our minds) while the moon is a symbol from only within reality, midnight applies both too the garden and reality.

The use of multiple languages: while this can sound interesting, the real reason I use other languages is symbolic of speaking in tongues, it’s like when the Christians talk to god in strange languages, when I use other languages in my poems, I am trying to express a kind of musical revelation of some sort.

There are more symbols and metaphors: The trees, the sword etc, but I won’t go into them yet, as they are far more ambiguous. And trying to explain them would be impossible for me to do in writing.

The reason I write this is just to explain that while my poems may seem random with ideas that don’t make sense, there is a meaning behind EVERYTHING, although sometimes they aren’t written down that well, it is my use of language skills and not ideas that limits me.   I DESPERATLEY NEED HELP WITH STRUCTURE, sometimes I feel as if the poems are all sloppy.

Thanks for all the help with setting up this page, and helping me with my writing.

Sorry if I didn’t explain myself well, it’s just hard to describe some of those meanings in writing

David Westlake

P.S  I have explained some of my symbols and metaphors, but i havent shown the ultimate meanings of my poems and how they relate to the world.

The Moth that fell in love with the Rose Parts 1-7

The moth that fell in love with the Rose

Part1 – Love and Loneliness

Sonatas that gently sing lullabies to the soul.

They cradle the innocent life of the moth

That was called to ugly to live, by the butterflies of blue

Frightened, he left from this dark colored world

And went to hide behind the trees with the owls.

For fifty years he lived to be an invisible man

Hiding in this universe, of depression and grief

Like the moon hides itself from the sun.

Do you remember the story of the moth?

That fell in love with the rose,

Only to realize that his wings were not of blue,

But grey,

Part 2 – The Moon

And while the violets and roses stayed young

The moth grew older and older.

Until on one day he died, the very dark comedy was over.

But while he was breathing the fire of life through his lungs

His heart was filled with the soul of the owl

The soul of symphonies and the Moon,

That the hearts of butterfly’s desire, but can never have.

Part 3 -Critical Reflection

This is the story of the moth that fell in love with the rose.

With a soul of purity that shadowed over the butterfly’s of blue,

With hearts that are hollow from the absence of the bird of symphony.

This is the Moth that spends his life counting the time he has left,

 To hear the owl’s voice.

Frightened, he lives in darkness, and in shadows,

Until one day he realizes,

 That the butterfly’s where his own reflection,

And that while his wings where grey,

His heart was violet blue.

“What you are, you are by accident of birth,

What I am, I am by myself”

Part 4 – The god of Roses

The moth lived to die, and became like the god of roses.

Who taught him “that death is the key that unlocks

The door to our true happiness”.

The moth replied,

“There are and always will be one thousand princes,

But there can only ever be one Beethoven”.

And forever he shall be known as the god violets.

He is the god that died so that I may discover the voice of the owl.

Part 5 – The Prophecy

Like the moth that hid in the garden

The moon must hide itself in the oceans of the universe

Every day for eternity, from the heat of the sun

But when the fire of life is extinguished,

And all of the pain filled smoke clears,

The sun must whimper at the moon and its sonata.

And the soul of the owl will dwell,

Within all the moths that live in garden of life.

Music will be the sword of the god of violets

And all of his disciples.

Part 6 – Ascension and Return

This is the story of the moth that fell in love with the rose,

He has left the shadows and darkness to live with the god of roses

The owl will be with them forever and ever

There was a moth of grey,

Who opened his wings, only to find he was the god of violets.

And the owner of my soul forever

His name is Ludwig, let  peace be upon him.

Part 7 –The Riddle

The holy ghost who I call the owl

And the gods of roses and violets

They are the key to this so very confusing riddle

This is the trinity of symphony.

The father, son and Holy Ghost.

David James Westlake

Violin Romance

Violin Romance

Like the midnight owl that sings its song,

Of romance that ignites the roses of the soul.

Like the gentle whistle of the angels of Neckar, that fire Cupid’s arrows,

A thousand moonlights that echo through this vessel of life,

 With violins that speak a truth that no tongue can sound.

It is the language of love, through the spirit of the bow.

Le cœurs des humains sont attirés par sa beauté.

The lord of violets sings his sweet song.

This is the violin romance.

Its warmth sweeps through the dusty streets,

And down the pathways, of old trees,

That the owl that sings the songs of beauty hides in.

Oh how I surrender to this beauty.

In the midst of the hours of the early morning

I hear the voice of ten thousand angels

That sing the song of prophecy, the song the owl has sung.

Through the echo’s of wood and bow.

Unlived, my fears and terrors,

The god of violets takes them from me, and replaces them with,

Ten thousand angels that sing to me,

With the voice of innocence and purity, which we call true love.

The incredibly incomprehensible, unquestionable and ubiquitous beauty of the violin,

 That saws through the soul with twirls and twists.

I thank him every day, for he has wrote the book to my soul

This is the love story of the violin and its romance.

For Ludwig Van Beethoven. The god of violets.

By David James Westlake

The Mozart Poem

 More than a man of composition, my own personal messiah

Opened his soul to the angels of symphony

Zeitgeist, an enlightened spirit to guide us, through such poisoned times

Art, she cannot comprehend such a level of beauty; art is for the mortal man.

Reality becomes as distant as a childhood memory, when he strikes the checkerboard keys.

Tonight is the night I surrender my soul, to the god of roses.

David Westlake

Moonlight and Midnights

Moonlight and Midnights

Moonlight and midnights, warmth of the world

Staring into their eyes, of deep blue and purple

You would not be able to recognize their enchanting whispers

That the winds echo, and talk to

Hissing through the trees, they speak to me

“Give your soul to the world” they command.

 But I cannot, for I am a fool, who has one only purpose,

Music, it has taken my spirit, forever and ever,

And I cannot give to them, what does not belong to me,

They hiss and cry, until the new day rises.

 But I must answer only to my master’s call

And not to those of the night and moon

For my gods have something which the world cannot give

Music that loops red and blue ribbons around the soul

The roses and violets of Mozart and Beethoven

They are the ones who possess what the moon desires

The candles flame, which lights the darkness,

For this is not a poem of fantasy, but reality, nothing less.

And while I do breathe the air to stay alive,

I would sooner hold my lungs still, before the absence of symphony,

For I am not a poet of words, but of sound.

   David Westlake

The Owl parts 1-4

 The Owl

Part1 - the butterfly’s

A beautiful soul, tortured and in the possession of music

les soi-disant belle a appelé lui laide

It speaks out the words of love through the lips of death

Music greater than god, to be present in a lonely man

With its twists and thrills, that take seize over me.

I am a moth amongst the butterflies of blue.

And the messiah, with his immortal beloved.

A life I live with the pain he felt,

Where the days are like years, and seconds like months.

His music will be our only escape,

Out of this so very dark and deep tunnel

They are known as the butterflies of blue

Their wings are of beauty, but their hearts are of black

                                                                                                                                                                                                               Part 2 – the roses

A mind of love, trapped behind a wall of self concept

le but de notre existence teinté par l'apparence

Through the gardens crafted from the love within his heart

It’s a beautiful song, filled with its subtle complexity

Tones that saw and roar! he says, “I set them down in notes.”

I am a weed amongst the roses of red,

And the Buddha, with his immortal beloved

The roses, they grow within the tunnel of darkness

Where the seasons are all stained with cynical morals.

Oh summer winter spring and fall

Imposters of truth and love

They are known as the roses of red

There petals are of beauty, but their souls are of dust.

Part 3 – the crow

A life that is of great compassion that exceeds all others

Échos de la musique grâce à notre âme

A kind of wisdom which cannot be heard through the ears,

but only with the heart.

This is the song the bird of purity has sung.

We are the owls amongst the black crows.

Ludwig van Beethoven and his immortal beloved

Will walk with me in the garden, outside the gates of depression

With the moths and weeds

It is us who live the life of purity

The music will remain our paint, for this dark colored canvas

We are known as the owls of symphony and knowledge.

 Our lives are lived in darkness, with our body’s that do not reflect our grace.

Part 4 – The Garden

The garden with all of its colors and smells

Filled with the moths, that hides behind the rocks and leaves

And all of the sounds that call to spirits,

That dwells within this green and red Eden

Will protect us from what you call beauty

For its has no soul, It is hollow

Like the butterfly’s of blue.

Their wings are of beauty, but their souls are of black

This is the desperate song of the Owl,

To wake you from your ignorance

Pour sa symphonie ne peut jamais mourir, ils sont l'alpha et l'oméga.

His music Is true beauty,

To all the ‘immortal beloveds”.

ROSES AND THE UNIVERSE

ROSES AND THE UNIVERSE

Alone staring into midnight, lying on a park bench

Surrounded by its red roses and trees of green

A sky painted of blue and purple, filled with stars

Isolated from the entire world, and all of its sound.

He begins to play,

Tonight I will be distant from others, but not alone.

We look into the soul of the universe, Mozart and I.

Das Klavierkonzert

My soul is released from the gates of restriction that we call perception

I begin to leave my body,

And take a ride on the checkerboard train

Under the stars that look like the souls of song

And through the red roses and trees of green,

een sterrenhemel, sterrenhemel middernacht

painted by the spirit Van gogh

my flesh left empty, under canvas painted reality

Nicht wach!! he says, do not awake!

My own personal messiah, “Walk with me in this garden“ and begins to play louder.

And the stars become brighter and the roses more red

While the sky turns to deep midnight purple

I am but a man riding with gods, frightened to open my eyes.

J’ai trouve ce que je suis a la recherche pour, birntot je vais ecrire la musique qui etait cache dans les profondeurs de mon ame d‘un tel longtemps, tres longtemps.

David James Westlake

Perception

Perception

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen

I enter nirvana

The violins, they are green

I can taste them as well

I wonder if Beethoven intended on this

It’s like walking through a garden

The cello, it’s purple

Just like moonlight sonata

This music is like a whole new world

One which I can only see

I’m sitting, watching my dad play guitar

Its maroon,

I remember the first time I noticed I was different

I thought I was crazy

The Beethoven Poem

Bewilderingly beautiful the dream I had last night.

Entered endless reflection of my soul.

Every night my mind surrenders to his sacred music.

The one who speaks the voice of god through notes.

Hours become thoughts that drift through my mind in symphony.

Occuper ma conscience et la remplit de l’amour.

V ictoriously he states “Musik ist mittler zwischen geistiger und sinnlicher leben”

Even when I am drowning, I will reach out for his hand of composition,

N ow that I have his Music embedded within my soul.