The gnomes sang and danced while the faeries all pranced
and the elfins got drunk by the fire
The pixies hummed tunes and got stoned on mushrooms
I can't remember what happened to the choir.
Sethark the lord of the dark was roused from his sleep by the din
the djinn in the lamp though he at first appeared camp
wished up the drawbridge and pulled in the ramp.
This gathering, like babies were safe in the glades
while Sethark from Hades was sharpening the blades.
But it all fizzled out when Sethark gave a shout
to a beautifully jewelled little lady
and they tarried away somewhere deep in the hay
and the result was a devilish imp of a baby.
The party goes on though the pixies have gone
because too many mushrooms had doomed them
and now they're doomed to the glens
banished from the fens
No longer to hum or strum on guitars
nor sing sweet melodies to the brightest of stars
sad tales are told by old faeries and gnomes
of pixies evicted from family homes
but they know in their bones that it should have been them in the glen
but say nothing of this thing
or bad luck they will bring on you.
The story that's told is quite true
Believe if you wish
and if you wish it
it's true.
Play my body
like an instrument.
Play my ribs like a harp,
my spine like an accordion.
Play my nose like a whistle.
awaken dreams devotion
the kindness of gentle feathers
a light bright from darkness
slicing the cold rectangular
glass vista of my hours ahead
like blades carving the snow
i listen carefully
the graffiti rust
truck hum
heaving grit
shaking upon tarmac
wet reflections, right indicator
engines steel splashes brutally entirely
where beneath the February morning
pulsing beside a stack of literature
from his arms to my hands
i stay a while in timelessness
to begin another chorus
inside myself open ( hot tongues, hands, back,
thighs, throat and mouth )
dripping of fire; color and warmth
of actuality in being alive
i don’t want to close my eyes
( i was craving the salt
water and the fire of his core
with my hands on his chest )
like the sea itself
to feel him real or see reflection of my blue
when the hard floor presses against
my knees where i kneel to wish in
the wet morning light
through soft feathers for kisses
and linen upon my throat
for an everlasting song
for him;
humming, whistling
the linen, rising up
the small
voices
Copyright ©2013 Le Chat Noir. All rights reserved.
Music in the night time. Just me and all the words written and sung by poets alike. Nothing is together but everything is calm. Somewhat scattered peacefully around me. My head is rested on a pillow but my mind frantic and the only way to ease this rush is by giving it a rhythm to think to; for the impulses to dance and sing along to as they bounce from cell to cell.
Solitude.
Suddenly I realize that I am at my best when the powerful voice of silence washes through me. Shadows accompany me on my quest in darkness but they stand around me like ghosts, ghosts of which only silhouettes can be seen.
Silhouettes that are mainly composed of excess musical notes that escape through my earphones and travel to a place where they belong, as the silhouettes. As the shadows move swiftly around me, they are powered by the harmonious hum they produce. The rest of existence is shut out and paid no mind to. At an occasional break, the silence that is outside of my earphones remains awkward.
Outside, with everyone else, and where I am lonely, I hear trees sing and dance to my music. Perhaps their scrambling frantic minds can only rest in the silence where there is rhythm, or it could be that they have adapted to my religious routine of rhythmic thoughts and they, each night, dance and hum to it to put their rustling, busy-bodied leaves to sleep for the eve.
And when the inflow of magical music comes to a gradual halt, the trees outside know to wake up and continue to dance in unrest during day. I understand, because I am shown in the same light and only at night, my willow friends and I put our souls to rest and we sing and sway with the night, calm, until our calculated dance routine is interrupted at wake. Tonight again...
Music in the night time. Just me and all the words written and sung by poets alike. Nothing is together but everything is calm. Somewhat scattered peacefully around me. My head is rested on a pillow but my mind frantic and the only way to calm ease this rush is by giving it a rhythm to think to; for the impulses to dance and sing along as they move ufrom cell to cell.
Solitude.
Suddenly I realize that I am at my best when the powerful voice of silence washes through me. Shadows accompany me on my quest in darkness but they stand around me like ghosts, ghosts of which only silhouettes can be seen.
Silhouettes that are mainly composed of excess musical notes that escape through my earphones and travel to a place where they belong. As the shadows move swiftly around me, they are powered by the harmonious hum they produce. The rest of existence is shut out and paid no mind to. At an occasional break, the silence that is outside of my earphones remains awkward.
Outside, with everyone else, and where I am lonely, I hear trees sing and dance to my music. Perhaps their scrambling frantic minds can only rest in the silence where there is rhythm, or it could be that they have adapted to my religious routine of rhythmic thoughts and they, each night, dance and hum to it to put their rustling, busy-bodied leaves to sleep for the eve.
And when the inflow of magical music comes to a gradual halt, the trees outside know to wake up and continue to dance in unrest during day. I understand, because I am shown in the same light and only at night, my willow friends and I put our souls to rest and we sing and sway with the night, calm, until our calculated dance routine is interrupted at wake. Tonight again...
I'm in love with feeling down
The feeling stays through towns
I pass along the way
Each more beautiful than the last
All of the emotional nights have found
To be just as therapeutic as the sounds
That abound in my thoughts
As they race towards the past
Back to the future where they all merge
A keyboard circuit surge
An electric strum
A soul being purged
With the words I'll hum, tell, yell
But first let me ask
Do you have a cig I can bum?
AWAKENING
Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell
12 DELIRIA
1st Delirium: COLLAPSES
Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice
2nd Delirium: DECENTS
Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted rum
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb
3rd Delirium: FATES
Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks
4th Delirium: LOST SOULS
Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they’re none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight’s days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn’s begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won
5th Delirium: INTROSPECTION
Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs
6th Delirium: THE VOID
Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore
7th Delirium: SEARCHING
Martyred monks haunt runic ruins ... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
Midget dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow
8th Delirium: NIGHTTIME
Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free
9th Delerium: EMPTYNESS
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: ALIENATION
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: JETSAM
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: RELIEF
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
REAWAKENING
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
It hit him hard
and he was left dizzy and reeling
from the collision between his ears
and Penny's mouth
Still laid up in bed
she had been there for almost a year
a year since something else
hit her hard
Every day Kyle had visited
and waited for her to wake up
and the doctors warned that may never happen
but here she was
What were her first words when she woke up?
"Kyle," she asked.
Her voice was quiet
almost deleted by the hum of a dozen machines that had watched her as diligently as her husband had
but to Kyle, they were the bells on their wedding day
"Kyle," she asked, as he grasped her had tightly
the hand that, for the first time in a year, held his back,
"Where's the baby?"
Not the drip of freeway from Pittsburgh but a rough trundle
on chalk roads as flaxen skies shade to molten celluloid
and I can still see them
flash in August fields like a crop of traffic lights
they flare as hay-bale paparazzi or
floaters in the humour and hang
careless in unseasonable decadence
so I’ll pass from the frigid, processed air
and join them in their closeness.
No buzz but a minor hum coming from the
moment’s luminosity and then they’re gone
making good on thunder’s empty promise.
I am in wonder
of the softness in the rise and fall of your cry
growing melodic through fever
then firestorm symphony
Crescendo!
An unstoppable force
Taking everything
just as certainly as you are
Becoming everything.
In receding rhythms
our echoing atoms do not so much fade
than shimmer, a resounding hum
until settled shapes in its aftermath
Are we.
