The clarity of the quarter moon
Voicing itself toward the waters,
       The purity of self absorbed moments
Discovered in the nocturnal prowess...
       Receive the night
As the fathoming echoes stay there,
       A bird sings,
Edges blur over hushing fountains,
      The world is a song of transformation.

the once familiar
is no more
stumbling through
days
of unevenness
tripping over
invisible curbs
and taking a wild ride
on steady ground
the obvious
is unrecognizable
the comfortable
is foreign
the start of each day
presents new obstacles
and i feel like a new born
wet
soft
pliable
not the hardened shell
i've grown used to
this newness
i can't absorb
but i will try
and i will start over
each new day
embracing the obstacles
that offer me
new hope.

loneliest vigil I have ever seen repeated
crumpled by neglect it's weight seated
in self scorn and mirrored in signs
iterated in his brothers' eyes.

move on 'cause I've hurt the scene
they spotted that past being
of below all view and prone
exposed given a penny, a bone.

a moment stretched by same inflection
a parallel mirrors reflection reflection.
i, looker, am in that view light tied
and there a fraternity fixed resides

yes. stop I did and did devour
that set to review in every hour

Down the hill traversed so often
a well-known tree, though sometimes more.
Lacklustre to those who couldn’t know better.
Small. Simple. Secluded.

Oozing with possibility, endless realities.
This place is rich with significance.
Subtleties of every nook and cranny,
Familiar to me like the back of my hand.

No knock as I enter, though this isn’t my home.
Welcomed as one of their own.
United again my accomplice and friend
Ever ready to pick up where we left.

How can there be any care in the world?
When this world adapts to our will.
This place is for us and always will be.
For now, at least it would seem.

10 years on still sharp in my mind
how important a dull place can be.
Nostalgia, not always a comforting thing,
10 Verden Close – the last time I was free.


© Jordan Costigan

Finding that balance between what feels good and what you need is harder than picking out an outfit in the morning.
Unless those outfits are all pretty slutty.
Then it's about the same,
the main difference being there's no real good solution.
Just a bad idea,
and a worse idea.
A low cut dress with no bra
Or a ruler width mini skirt over a thong.

I have always been a fan of extremes
so, I guess, between what I want
And what I need.

I'd wear the same outfit every day until it ripped,
got lost
or didn't fit me anymore.

And then I wouldn't wear anything.

Years, many parti-colour'd years,
  Some have crept on, and some have flown
Since first before me fell those tears
  I never could see fall alone.

Years, not so many, are to come,
  Years not so varied, when from you
One more will fall: when, carried home,
  I see it not, nor hear Adieu.