There is no awakening.  Outside the cave
Light shadows in the sun, a blinding
Muck veils desolation in the vein-bled,
Good men, stumps of the naked forests,
And bird song drowned by the droning dead,
Ignoble, this is no country for old men.

In the open, all lie freely, lacquered clean
Sunning social graces, shine pornographic,
Know truth is real yet, embalmed by speakers,
Pages, their flame a cross, churning in a mire,
Our glass cities run time mendaciously silent;
The euphony of the untruths, the bent sign.

In Catatonia words are watered but never
Change, sapped of meaning, seasons fall
By the handy green, the spring leaves, tipped
Off balance scaled to autumns teeming news;
The barren shores, breaks, bless the vacuum
Tubes, and pray a curse, fawn the head lamps.

In the homeless land anxious creatures divide.
The concrete utterance is picked to rubble.
The stones ground into sand and we ringing
In delight, moving mandrake, mobile cadavers,
Orbit to satellite are digging babylon down
In the false hood, ****** by the mortar.

The ruin architects mark, fork millions
Of tongues in tributary, as does a great
River from a stony source.  The sterling
Feed their stock with tainted food, plants
Regenerate the mangled codex twining-tare;
Throws the babe with baptismal waters.

In the soulless land children peak abandoned,
They fall on temple steps by the golden mean.
We pattern the sky in the bold fabric of pity
And mercy but the strands fade out running;
Our cruel and only kind would rend the stars,
Would fallow Elysium, bleed gold to the vein.

How did we end mortal under the divining
Sun?  Down base our provident ways watching?
We wave in fealty to the dominion of spins
And shadow, gussied Gods so proudly made,
Desolate, vain, air escaping to whisper;
We are sailing from Byzantium.

I do not usually indulge in "red"
Mostly white or crystal clear
More than a sip, something like a big bite I take... yes, I miss my beer
But this is like... a taste of paradise
This... I like
As suggested by hammered eyes
It's seductive... like a mirage deep in the desert
It's like a fair step on a steep hillside, pleasant
Those that indulge in it together, are birds of a feather
It's like a sly friend, "there for you" no matter the weather
Then smacks you upside your head the following morning
It's like a trumpet in your head, and your voice of reason following... moaning
"oooh...why didn't you stop when you realized morning was dawning?"
Now a headache is spawning
Your hung over, your eye
Just as red
As what it is I'm drnking... It's wine.

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

When eyes locked he fell
And time set a new fever
Upon the world.  It did not
Help that her voice touched
And moved and tore into
His stone as if water carved
A million years of buried lime
Or that the spheres that sang
Were now sounding discordant,
Confounded as he was, fallen,
Empty as the universe, slight
As the lonely, lost, and unlighted
Seas of the moon.

                              And her hair,
It was not fair, that the endless,
Playful stars could fire even brighter
Below the forgotten heavens.

It’s scary I tell you, when I turn around and look…
Back
To the days when I just couldn’t wait to read that book
I’d plan my day so that I'd have several hours of page-turning time… with no interruptions in between
Nowadays I find myself turning fewer pages, but lazily clicking away as I read off a computer screen
I’m afraid I will lose the reading culture I’d built... for this is not the same
I go through a few pages, then switch to an online pool game
It’s a habit I’m beginning to abhor
Something I never would have dared to do before
I would read the crap out of a book in a day… or two at most, before
Always hungry for a story, like a ****** with a craving looking to score
I was a book worm… now I just don’t know
What I am anymore
I grab a good paperback and dive into the story
An hour later my eyes feel heavy, I begin to feel a little weary
The Sandman’s close by and I am beginning to worry
‘Will I even get to finish this chapter?’
I begin to rush through the page in a hurry
But by now I’m reading shallow… and the story is so deep
Still, I need to know what happens to the protagonist next… before I fall into this deep sleep
I can feel it lurking around the corner
**** Sandman!...
Around the corner
Then I turn to my machine… that wretched thing
And see the window I left open on the screen
And decide to squeeze in…
A short story I had been reading earlier, before I ‘shut eye’
Knowing full well that if I force myself past chapter four my brain surely shall die
But, forty five minutes later… well, what do you know? The computer has done it again…
It has kept me awake and reading, way past chapter ten.

Sometimes the sun is not heard,
The world is silent yet, is living
Cold, the moon stirs not even
As it is rising, the birds are mute
The trees and oceans are still
All things are pointed and dull.
I hear a lonesome hound baying
At the empty skies when clouds
Are covering with a smear of smoke.
Where are the words that are never
Said?  What light burns my eyes,
Darkening most at the days zenith?
What is the language for sanity?
Why is there no math, no translation
For the heart?

Sometimes the sun is missing
Or lost by a sea of tears raining
In collusion with the shifty earth,
Sometimes the numbering stars
Are merely zeros, the die casting
On the green and desperate table
Of the turning world.  Sometimes
The sun sinks early to the west
And the moon is trailing not far
Behind.

I think poets are aliens… from another planet
I mean, we must be
You have to be off your rocker to get it, to understand it…
I mean, is it just me…
That sees it?
The way we took grammar, complicated as they made it...
And blew the rules to the wind, we decided to ‘breeze’ it
We made up our own… and as a sensible man...
I can say, they don’t even need to make sense
Because they are what they are… poetic and intense
I really think we are not human though… I'm being serious about this
We go around seeing through a third eye
I know because I am about this
And we are crazy I tell you
We see the art in everything
We probably came up with the phrase ‘an about kiss’…
Or an 'almost kiss'… whatever
‘It’s either a kiss or it’s not, it’s as simple as that’...
The rest of society thinks… oh, but the poet would have none of that
We are weird I tell you
Us artistic types
We open our minds to anything and everything
We even befriend the mystic types
We would take it there… or allow our curiosity to take our minds anywhere
We would experiment to a point where we’re tripping out
We would… and you know it, just as long as it’s something to write about
This creativity thing is like a super power… **** it!
I rest my case… arrest me and take me back to my mother planet.

Wings beat to overtake.
Now, above you like a fire shot
In a silent film the rush begins.
Wings fold inward, the air turrents,
Streams, as a ball swirling in a tube,
Grey bullet in the barrel,
The slide to the **** and the talons,
Make their mark before the hitch.
Soft plosives bearly sounding,
Crake, blood cupped in the claws,
From the breast and the rose  
Heart, now in a tail spin,  

Nostrils whine in the fall.  
No jury just but a sup of the faded  
Heart by one raging one.  
The wilted wings are stirring  
To the last as the pointed  
Wingman ferries, the wholly bred,
Quarry of perfection, jolts  
And jilts, and His scythe of feathers
Holds sway in the whirl.
As the God-made creature
From high heaven flies
The mourning dove must die.

I saw these neighbourhoods
I grew up in these neighbourhoods
I saw these streets
I grew up in these streets
I lived passed them… sort of
I didn't end up in jail, a ******… or deceased
Still, whenever I walk through them today... I feel at home
A sense of belonging
A nostalgic longing…
To remain here forever
But realize that forever would be too long
I would be fed up by month number five
Getting high every day… getting into fist fights
That was no way to live a life
It was just about getting through the day…
Survive
Exist
Eat
Be alive
These things are very different from living
Because the devil that gives you certain heights… compliments them with issues
And he just keeps on giving
I see the junkies, a hardened lot
Taking their ‘cut’ from the public service vehicles plying their route
And woe be unto the tout that refuses to pay
For these scavengers get vicious, they scratch, punch… and loot
I call them scavengers because that’s what they seem like… true
But as I look into the crowd, their ‘gang’, I realize that I know one of them… actually two
They cross over to me; we bump fists… a way of greeting
We’re still ‘boys’, but if I were to describe them now as ‘wayward’?... Fitting
I cannot do that though
We may have taken different paths in life, but there was a time when we hang together
A time when we were young, running around these streets and I called this place home
Now, what sort of man would I be if I just upped and forgot where I came from?

A walk through thirsty land
Breathe... step... breathe... step
Dunes of towerring, rusty sand
With each step, breathe... step
No rules, no lanes... no need to 'keep left'
Or walk in any particular direction... but that which you choose
Too hot by day to play, by night... too cold to snooze
It is beautiful, in an evil way
Impressive, but can ****
It giveth less than it taketh away
That bone piercing, nightly chill
It's getting closer, time grinds teasingly on
The dunes seem to get taller, teasing the sun
Whose heat, direct from sky to forehead
Squeezes my pores...
Breathe... step... breathe... breathe... step
And robs my body of its last bead of sweat
Breathe... breathe... breathe... step
Attempt to swallow saliva... feel like I'm gurgling on glass
Breathe... stop
No tree... open land... sea of sand... parched
Breathe
Try to reassure myself, in a raspy monotone
Wish for one thing right now, not water... chlorofoam
So I can pass on, and not feel it
The desert's friends are up and about in the dark, cheering "**** it! **** it!"
I try to ill will it... try to hold on
But this warrior of nature's choke hold, grip... proves too strong
To fight
So... tonight
I decide "It's over, I'm gone"
I can hear the afterlife call
Out to me
Pick myself up... Breathe... step... stumble... fall.

***!
Way to fleece…
A taxpayer
They’ve got us singing the blues
And we’re not down for all that jazz*… leave that to the Sax player
We remain mind boggled by these selfish ‘leaders’
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… ‘Dude! Way to bleed us!’
We’re already scraping the floor for crumbs… are they trying to run our finances into the ground?
“You work for us you pompous ******-bags, it’s not the other way around...”
Midnight meetings in secretive silence
We preferred it when their nonsense made a sound
We’re ashamed and infuriated
But what makes it worse is that we’re not surprised
It’s like they strive to be truly hated… and yes, they've  gotten themselves despised
More and more by the day
As each day goes by
We would throw them all out if we could
And our actions would be understood
Unfortunately we can’t do this for they are skilled at defiance
Masters of political science
And at it they are that good
Liars
Cheats
The campaigning politician...
Seducing us with deceit when he comes out on the street
To make his energetic speech
And then...
The elected Member of Parliament...
Only campaigns for his financial gain
Once he’s assured that for a whole term his position is permanent
That’s where they've slipped up, and I thought they were a smart lot
Schemious at least
Such a wrong move in an election year
Do they not fear… getting dropped by the voter?
Two hundred and twenty four MP’s… dead weight in deep water
And can’t swim
Should they have asked for my advice prior, I would have told them to simply cease and desist
“Do not dive in…”.

My brother and I fought
And I wasn’t at wrong
Or so I thought
Years ago this happened
And it’s been awkward for too long
It may not seem such a big deal
But it was resentment I’d feel
Whenever we attempted to get along
It wasn’t too long ago though
I was like eighteen or so
When…
We had a fist fight as grown men
I realize now that I always thought
He was selfish, and that was why we always fought
But the truth is… I’ve been selfish too
Thinking I was holier than thou
I want my brother back
I want my brother back right now
I’ve been okay, I’ve been doing good
On a solo mission, but I misunderstood...
The meaning of life
It’s not about strife
After growing up together, we grew apart… how?
I want my brother back
I want my brother back right now
We both know he was wrong
To do what he did
But that was years ago
By now, both of us should have let it go
The funny thing is
He still has my back
He is always there when I need him
I used to think it was guilt
Now I realize it has more to do with the relationship we’d built
Growing up side by side
The days when for him I was always ready to ride
To stand up against anyone that tried… to hurt him
He was my brother, flesh and blood
My brother, my blood
As I write this I've grown a little now
So, I have to get my brother back
I have to get him back right now.

I have seen ‘life’… and ‘life’ has become me
I have seen death, well… close enough
And these experiences too have become me
A part of me
A part of who I am
A part of who I used to be
The past and the future collide… at the present
I have had times when I was scared
I have had times at which I stood up to the challenge when I was dared
I am not perfect… I’m just a man
A man destined and expected to always be able to take a stand
Even when he’s down, to stand tall… proud peasant
You need to understand…
Every other man’s shoes are difficult to walk a mile in
So respect my journey as I overcome all these obstacles and head for the ‘Promised Land’
With questions in my mind like…
If I am not ‘holy’…
Then what am I… ‘sin’?
Questions unanswered… questions asked
Responsibilities not asked for… responsibilities tasked
Some decisions are a risk… such a risk they are
But that is why the one that retained the Status quo… and he that took that risk
Today, are not at par.