Perpectives of a grey sky
bleak, promising nothing
to restless exuberance
One man's Taj Mahal
could crumble in an instant
Would it leave him with nothing
or release him from shackles
allowing him to stand tall?
You say I'm unrealistic like it's an
excuse for inaction, but your apathy is
the burden we must share. You claim to
support me with nothing more than words
but your pat on the back achieves nothing
You are a participant in this race
SO GET A MOVE ON
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 12:03 PM UTC
The tree reached up to the sky, desolate and derelict
It's moribund image that of a skeletal hand thrusting from the grave, awash with
new found life.
It seemed almost painted on to the gloomy backdrop of grey clouds
inky darkness smeared across the horizon.
I watched, saying nothing. The sight had jarred into my senses, like a replay of magpies stuttering
across my path earlier that day, spreading out from the treetops.
And still, I watched. Not the tree itself, we had passed it as soon as
found it, the bus knows no scenic route procrastination. But in my mind,
I saw it. There is light now.
After the clouds, there is rain, and after the rain there is life, nourishing
and fertilising, after the bleakness of winter, we see life anew.
There is light now, growing stronger. Faint, but gathering momentum. Those that
listen can hear. Those that feel can see, those that live can breathe, those that
love, can know. For the brief harmony of Nirvana, the union and entwining
of the self and the divine, a lifetime's work can be realised. Still, light and
warmth. More noticable, ever expanding. I breathe the same air as those
around me. We drink the same water. We eat from the same ground. Yet
a million different thoughts separate a million of us. A million different visions
born of the same source. And then I remember. It's all just a trip. Safe
journey. Enjoy the ride.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC
Time to return, reverse and go back
Face my demons once again
With oblivion shall come clarity if I allow it
The key is in my brain
Broken ground burns away (it's never mine anyway)
Crawling, fragile and shaking like an Autumn leaf in flight
But without the freedom; so singular
The beauty of the void
Ever decreasing, spiralling to nowhere
Ever consigned to square one
I think I'm paranoid but don't tell anyone
Time to return...
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 11:40 AM UTC
Your love for me is stifling. Or, should I say, my love for you
challenges and meanders into every aspect of who I am.
Without expectation, I offer you nothing, other than all I am, were
and will be. Your church will cry blasphemy, but it's ok. We'll
build a new one.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 9:37 AM UTC
He had been robbed of all character and individuality.
Once eyes had shone outwards, now white dwarf orbs shimmering from porcelain remained.
There was no excess whatsoever, nothing frivolous; his sinewy frame carried not an
ounce of surplus fat, nor did his attire serve any social function other than to cover his hijacked carcass.
He walked the streets anonymously, blending in like an instinctive chameleon, single mindedly rehearsing
the acts of the play that cycled through him.
Score. Cook. Nod. Kick. Relapse.
That was when I promised myself I'd never chase again.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 9:27 AM UTC
I search for you, I'm scared of you, of what you are, of who you are.
I know you so well that I don't know you at all.
So close that I can't see you, can't feel you.
But still I look for what's inside.
Always elusive, your shadow flickers on every turning.
My sole purpose, to find you (not knowing how or why).
Perilously I edge, pensively along the ledge.
What am I afraid of? What is there to lose?
You're like a beacon, you call to me from within me.
Your every signal is an insight to my instinct.
I don't know why. Will you reward or reprimand me?
Or are these obstacles a vicious sense of humour?
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 7:26 PM UTC
Wayward frustrations on empty
Running futile thoughts, how ideal!
Dissect this manifest, leaving town for what?
One for sorrow, one for sorrow, one for sorrow
and its done. Clean up, get out and start again.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 7:04 PM UTC