I dream in synesthesia…
Every synapse a new white breath of creation,
A universe spinning free from entropy’s oblivion
I dream in synesthesia…
And see a warming freedom that no body can measure,
A movement of thought erupting from nothing
I dream in synesthesia…
And taste life obliterating reality’s edge,
As it bursts into the expanse of forever
A beginning no body can destroy…
I dream in synesthesia…
And feel the grace of infinity giving way to split atoms
As femtoseconds expand to light years speckled with dust and gravity
I dream in synesthesia…
The sweet smell of passion pouring forth
Riding vehement pulses of fiery red light
I dream in synesthesia…
And hear the heartbeat on my skin,
As creation goes forth and breaths white once again…
I dream in synesthesia…
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 1:14 PM UTC
I walk through these mists
to a precipice.
There’s an air of psychosis in this place…
I step out so, so gently,
vertigo spinning,
3,001 feet in the air.
A death falcon dives below,
claws poised for prey,
and I pray as my opponent glares.
I don’t look down, nor does he;
this glass bridge barely
an inch thick then open expanse.
I focus on him; his mace,
screeching like death falcon’s prey,
dragging along the glass.
God, please don’t let me die on this day.
As wind cuts at my eyes
I dare not close them
and thereby give him the upper hand.
One false move lands
that mace to my face and then
death by gravity’s crush
long before I hit the rush
of river far, far below.
This hulking brute’s an eclipse
of all that brought me to this:
Our final battle’s throes.
This haunting mist clings
Like death between
The aether and us here on psychosis’ wings.
I stand, bravely stalking the fear
starting where his stare rears.
Suddenly: His mace swings!
My sword sits; I wait.
Vertigo spinning like his wrist
It begins…
My fingers lace…
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 7:50 AM UTC
With the horizon in your eyes
And Kathmandu below
You said:
“I Can Do
ANYTHING
I put my mind to!”
While the moneyed well-to-do
Looked nice in their ties
You arrived
Black and blue
And bloodied and bruised
And cut right to the front of the line
–no time for niceties here—
And grabbed a glass
Of champagne
– the price of a mortgage—
And chugged and ran
Frost Bitten
Sand Bitten
Bug Bitten
And a pack of lions, and bears, and snakes at your heels!
You pulled a half gainer
And left them behind
Your motto:
“Memories
Are more important than things.”
And Peter said:
“This one has a story to tell...”
“Let him in.”
In Memoriam Of Those Who Dare.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 7:37 AM UTC