Never mistake the fake for real;
Hard truths, for lack of loving.
The genuine need no introduction,
And we reserve anger only for what we care about.
Never love without reason, many ills must be borne
Because of impatience or indifference.
Respect your heart to give it space;
The truth, for room for breathing.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
The dust of their coming and going
Sifts down through the years,
Their gravity once knotted fabric to flesh;
Even though they're near,
Just the ashes, are all can impress.
Since time snapped in two between their fingers,
They haven't aged much, except to uncoil,
Unwind branching strands;
Under satin recoil
Beneath brass sheaths, the body banal.
We walk upon the faces of kings, and sleep
High, on the ruined backs of strangers;
All unknowing, how the dust gets laid,
Unaware of the danger-
Every generation becomes the new day.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
the bones of the doors in some parallel worlds,
I take hold and swing but then they fall apart,
to fly toward dimensions I never suspected.
the leaves of the heart where you've never trespassed
fold open just like a mechanical clock,
all gears and cylinders driven by time.
it's too late when the bones disperse,
it's too late when the clocks stop talking-
caught in the wake of something immense.
help me wake up, I’ve been sleeping too long.
help me wake up, we’ve been sold for a song.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
Earth-shine in your loved one's eyes
Is all you have for memories;
Moonlight died beneath their lids,
When death did his deliveries.
And now the world's a colder place,
Though sun still shines above it,
And moon comes too, and looks upon
The graves, were made with loving.
And though the years will pass the same;
Though weeds and grass obscure it,
Their names on trembling lips will live-
As long as we endure it.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
I awake before dawn and call out to the Moon,
But the Moon is missing, she has other duties to attend to.
I sleep fitfully, aware that something is missing.
I awaken at dusk and call to the Sun,
But the Sun is missing, he has other lands to shine upon.
I wake with uncertainty, aware that something is missing.
I wake up in the midlands of night, in the close darkness
And I realize then that there is no longer anybody to call out to;
Whether I sleep or wake again is no longer important.
I send word to the Sun not to awaken me.
I send word to the Moon not to expect me-
I must go where light and darkness can freely mix,
And where things grow, touchless beneath a hidden sky;
Nothing is not there that should be,
Nothing is there that should not be:
And I am my own Moon, mirrored Suns shining from every secret eye.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 9:41 PM UTC
dragonflies return
to the place where they were born
my humble pond
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
Depth:
Jump in;
Begin to swim-
Don't forget to dock.
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 7:05 PM UTC
She lay eyes closed, on gleaming steel,
Summoning every ounce of will;
But was not enough to overcome the drugs
He'd given, with his fateful hug.
She remembered things she thought had gone,
Somewhere broken wings had flown;
Her mind a million miles ahead,
Although her body felt quite dead.
She heard the cart of tools wheeled close,
And with a shudder, knew what those
Things were used for, knew her time
For thinking would too soon unwind.
There was something once she'd read
That she searched for in her head-
A foolproof way to blink your eyes,
Even if you couldn’t cry
Aloud; or twitch your toes beneath,
Though all above, were deep in grief
To tell them that your brain still lived-
And it was just your body, fibbed.
Too late; she heard the scalpel lift-
Felt her hair folded up in clips;
If she could, she would have prayed-
For now her heart was well dismayed-
And then the ruby drops rained down,
Covering white shoes and gowns-
Her pain was met with equal screams,
As she fell down, in darker dreams..
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 5:45 PM UTC
My words are cutting themselves again;
razoring their loosely-sutured syllables,
deep as white-eyed bone.
The suave dipththongs butchered
to the cadence of bloodletting
in hemorrhagic oppositions.
Stapled-closed sentences, smeared with Iodine,
and subcutaneous sentence diagramming
for the retractable scalpel
swiveling along the edge,
of the well serrated cliche.
Once I pressed my wordy flesh
against the wrong side
of a paring knife, while paying no attention
and suddenly,
and without warning
it gave, like an over ripe peach
to the cleaver-
and after that, I was hooked.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 11:05 PM UTC
Maybe we're words left behind by night,
Beneath bounding silhouettes of guiding stars,
Or waters of memory lapsed into rain;
As mind of man bleeds his dreams into day.
If there opened a window, none can know why-
When breath counts the years, and moments bide time,
For the hidden soul's body must ever grow older-
Another years living, in the sacred bowl smolders.
The offspring of earth, or day-star's bright child,
Dancing on moonbeams in scintillate shoes,
And impassioned questions, from spirit begotten-
Whatever magic made him, the secret’s forgotten.
The mold has been shattered, the bird has flown;
The seed too far from the father’s blown,
But it’s the secret we hold true because
The world's more beautiful now- than it was.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 11:30 AM UTC