The sun sets, the shadows fall,
A cold breeze, a weathered pall,
A leaf in the wind,
Adrift in the water,
I try not to quake
I try not to falter.
The Leiermann stands three feet in the ice,
Voiceless now, relegated to vice,
Ill-omened, leashed from behind,
We are the warp and weft of time
We are the darkness,
We are the light.
The Caller shall come,
From the Heavens and from the sea,
Abasing, exalting,
Scattering, emboldening,
They who were foremost, they who were last,
Shall bitterly choke on that which has now come to pass,
There will be no refuge from the Light,
No respite, no night.
Dec 31, 2021
Dec 31, 2021 at 2:49 PM UTC
Turn your head,
Fist your hand,
Forget the bed,
Make a stand,
Tis your play,
Stop, you'll slay,
Resist the urge,
To break away
You have naught to lose,
You know you'll bruise,
I urge you still
To make a move,
Deep breaths,
Steady steps,
Jaw, set,
How you want to be met,
Grind your gears,
Prepare to steer,
You are far more,
Than all your fears,
You were born for this,
A sum of all that Is,
A tiny little spark,
That tears the world apart
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 9:52 AM UTC
The Wisdom of the slave Philosopher;
It's not that you don't want it,
It's that you don't need it.
You shall carry no burden.
Watch them fall.
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 5:05 AM UTC
I am that which must always overcome itself.
Every morning I will wake up and tear down what I've built.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 6:42 AM UTC
I see it as from outside a window,
Myself walking fast, head bowed,
Life happening all around me without sound,
Distanced even then, not sure I know why
The paces of development grow hazy around that line.
My heart was soft,
My head curiously empty,
A balloon floating along,
Not certain where she might belong
It was the best of times,
I still go there in my head,
I don't remember the feel of the wind on my face,
But the feel of the wood I sat on in my classroom
The urgency every time the bell rang for lunch hour,
The acrid taste of isolation when I hadn't enough for the tack room
It was the best of times,
I still go there is my head,
My friend had a bag of coin in the desk nearby,
I saw her put it there and,
I took it, I don't know why,
They found me out, hung me dry,
From then on I tried not to pry,
Kids really know how to crucify.
It was the best of times,
I still go there in my head.
When my child's eye was pure,
Boys hard-wearing, still demure,
I used to think I would never be self-assured,
I'm still not,
Confrontation ties my insides in a knot,
But I live for those days,
When Saturday mornings meant cartoons,
Followed by hilariously misguided cooking attempts at noon,
That would get you later whooped past sense
All your friends watching from the fence.
It was the best of times,
I still go there in my head.
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 4:53 AM UTC
A bright dot within the grey background of low slung houses
She kicks up no gravel as she walks
The silence of a graveyard but with homes
White cars in front like grave stones
Thoughts are the wind on desert land,
Empty and idle versus gaunt and bare
Rubbing against each other; friction, no heat.
Outside this desolation footsteps echo,
Their rhythm reminding her of the ghetto,
The fear turns you watchful as the gecko,
Breath rushes out, see the little heart beat
Dust from the gravel clogs her nose.
She feels the shadow rushing,
It clamps from the back (there was no shushing),
Her hand in a grip nearly crushing,
Stale breath in her ear, a chokehold on her neck as they were struggling
A sting in her eyes she wasn't disposed to crying,
But as she felt the shadow grab hold she stopped pushing,
Knew he had won as sure as the gravel on which she was standing,
False entitlement we shall not allow,
So he took the bill upon which she'd been avowed,
Mother preferred she'd vanished along with that legal tender,
Yes, you can never trust these nine-year-old suspect spenders.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 1:51 AM UTC
Between the edges of my frame, all is bare for you to see,
The inside of me is forced to abide your scrutiny,
I cannot close my legs, I've lost control of this part of me,
There is judgement in your stare, but I am not outside looking in
It is a shame that you carry opinions when all I feel is one word,
And you all would know it but for the glass wall in front of me.
And the stone wall behind.
*
Listen to her voice, from the depths of her darkness,
Where all things will lie, in the everlasting fastness,
The intangible whirling that crosses her back,
The soft coolness that penetrates it and soon goes back,
On top of which all things come to her for their nap,
For when awake all they do is take from her womb,
It is their tomb, it will also be their doom.
*
Your blood flows warm inside you but you feel the ice under your skin,
You know the feel of her skin, thus recognition shouldn't perhaps wear thin,
Why do you assume intelligence, takes the form of the loud spoken?
We are not even remotely beholden.
You sound like a braying ***
I really should not give you a pass
The human condition;
Let me give you my fear, this is how I care for you.
*
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 3:00 AM UTC
In a coming storm, there is little in the way of shelter,
In an angry sea, there is little to hold on to,
In the middle of an accident, nearly all will pelter
On a raging horse, do you know what to do?
The daunting expanse of unconquered land wants to make a fool out of you.
Do we then come together to see one another through?
Wrap me inside the carpet and roll me near the fire for I am cold,
The task requires that I shun warm comfort in favour of the cold unknown,
My bones rattle incessantly at the thought,
Whence hideth ye, my religious swathe?
It is a new cup that shakes in my hand in a froth
I am beset in my own skin, utterly fraught.
Laugh at the vicissitudes of life!
Muse at how the ingeniouses are rife
I know that you inveigh against it every once in a while,
With great gusto and all of it in a pile.
Woe betide she who looks at it with stars in her eyes
The floor is not solid and the walls are not thick, walk as if everyone lies.
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 8:41 AM UTC
I know of a fire,
I know of a life
I know of a stirring, flooded through with light
I know of a weapon forged beyond question of might
I know of a will irrevocable with the stillness of MidNight
I know of the roots in the forests without trees
Webs that span the wide wetness of empty seas
I know of desires that are built on expected fears
And the cruel joys that then bring a person to tears
Those wretched happenstances that cannot be seen by seers
It is a simple life with a complicated weaving
A small cup with bitterness teeming
It is an odd duck of beautiful feathers shimmering
The laughter shows sharp teeth and you can just imagine that bite
A glaring light the truth of which we can only just perceive, but from which, alas, we may not hide.
But let me choose to set aside the eerie,
For my purpose was not to sound so dreary,
So said I that life is a Gemini feed,
It finds me unable to quite resist the switch
I spoke of fire undying, fire eternal was given to me.
I spoke of light undimmed, the sun was bequeathed to me.
I wanted to tread the halls of Olympus, the earth was created for me.
That I should never want for aught, take the very beat of mine heart for the flow of your blood.
For the thoughts that are my planets revolve around the mind of your sun.
But now all my thoughts are centred on you,
Ask me for the moon
Don't leave so soon
I know that fire, that life, that weapon,
I got them all from you.
There are no paths I wouldn't walk for you
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 4:57 AM UTC
The window is open and the wind is cold,
As I lay in my bed feigning sleep, I feel old
The hollowness in my bones speak of stories untold
There will be few memories that my ***** today will hold
I perceive this from the lack of enthusiasm with which I greet the day.
All the actions and reactions that will, with it, fall into decay.
I harbour no remorse for the want of warmth in my stare
And I feel that those who ask it of me shouldn't really dare.
It is not for me to judge the tides of such stirrings
I fear I am not experienced in these whirrings.
I fall short when it comes to simple joys, but to the brim in human ploys.
I am like the moon when she is round and full,
Making you rise up like the waves, gasping at the pull.
I don my hat of deadened emotions,
Human suffering I wear like a fur coat, thick and long
The plight of mankind I observe like ten thousand devotions,
Until the distorted essence of us stops seeming so...wrong.
Because I am more attuned to the dark,
To the quiet whimpers of children taken from the park.
The individual's darkness tears at my conscience
His malignant blackness a disease in his heart
Tell me where do the soft go?
Whose untainted innocence is not abused roughly so?
Whose kindness is not swallowed up by an unwholesome whole?
And the taste of life is not more bitter than sweet?
For I would wish for an otherness escape if it were not so.
The eternity of time when it was still young, and the solitude of the dark when it was empty.
The hardness of diamonds before the fire, and the fluidity of water before the frost.
The immeasurable pillars holding up the sky, and the animation of the body before its death,
And the soul that is tasked to carry all these along and hold up its head.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC