What are words but sounds and consonants?
Semantics give meaning.
  Reason is misleading.
   Forgive me, I am dreaming
    of a day when trees stop bleeding
      for your written words,
        your sounds and consonants.
What is worth
    but a series of crowns and continents?

The lights are brighter than usual tonight.
They demand attention with their glowing, yellow faces.
It only makes the cackling women in the corner of the cafe ignore them more.
There is an unspoken consensus that these lights are to be avoided.
I make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye,
only to be blinded with a flood of yellow.

O, what remnants our paths leave so silently on our bones.
We never can quite brush them away to gather in dust.
How I wish I could be the dirt under your fingernails.
How I wish I could be the stubborn lint upon your dress.
O, how I dream of never pausing.

How I wish to be the bitter taste of slumber on your tongue.
These thoughts are interrupted by the blinding light above.
Pull me from the water only to **** in a lung-full of air.
I want to drown in your eyes.

What a worthy way to go, I say,
what a worthy way to pause.

never boring
look at that shiny ***
been through hellfire and survived...

pax!

bars, brothels and homelessness
broken and blessed
reminds me of a home I used to know...

pax.

pretty as a peach
innocent as the trees
gentle
peaceful
always content
and mine

A rude awakening:
A friend’s best impression of
A thousand,
Deep,
Bellowing trombones.
“BWAAAAWWWWP!”
Shake it off.
Walk home and go to bed.
Fasten hat to head:
“Bye everybody.”
(wave)

Good choice on the hat,
‘Tis chilly.

Text her, “Hi,” just because.
Just in case.

Long walk home
Late at night
And still groggy.
Those trombones still ringing in my ears.

I feel new.
Like a kitten.

Every sound on the street inspires shudders.
Cars approaching from behind:
Crescendos dropping into empty ringing silence.

Someone laughs down a dark side street.
Head jerks,
And looks away.
There it is again.
Is it for me?
Walk faster.

I might still be sleeping…
Although I’m pretty sure—what’s that?
A bicycle,
Or the amplified sound of an insect
Cleaning itself.

Where is that shadow coming from?
Is something floating above this intersection?
Just keep walking.
But only after
I push this button
That does nothing.
I guess I’m just a pigeon
Flapping my wings.
But don’t I know it.
How sad is that?
Where’s that Morpheus with my **** pills?

Home base.
Olly olly oxen free.

In this public park, sits he
Quietly: eternal at solo play.
Gnarled hand moves the pieces, so regal
As he plans fortuitous moves ahead.

No wonder how Time sits and waits
Patient: twisted branches overhead.

Reaching: draping its coolness
Unmoving design, just to offer and give
Wanting nothing in return
Wanting noth-thing in return.

Almost unseen in the park
A broken butterfly of dre-eams.

I join the solitary player
So undeterred: he opens the window
Such a clear, blue sky over me
And pierces right through the heart of me.

Three more pieces fall and leave the board
Wondering: I have grown cold, in a warp.

Blunt words, how they close the door!

Are you alive?
Are you alive?
Are you alive?
He said: Are you alive?

Time rises tall, unleashes Truth wrapped
Are you alive?
Are you alive?

Dashing too quickly through the Now
His green pupils fall into my lap....

And in the cloud-light, a tempest rages
Changing: galloping queen high on the southern wind
And lifts the dying breeze beyond.

Some steps cannot be undone
Choose: the path of the solitary player
Who chases not, yet moves at the speed of night.

Are you alive? ONE of us....is not.

In this public park, sits he
Quietly: eternal at solo play.....





Star Toucher, 01 April 2013