The Noose

The Noose May 2018

Bushroad

The iridescent sunset
over the green field of dreams
I can still smell the scent of dusk
Days last whisper
From violet, indigo to black.

02/05/2018

The Noose May 2018

Abstract 2

The sea shut back in all its gothic glory
1. The tremble left the bone
2. Neither quiet nor solitude. Some nameless absence of sound that taunts and peace congeals at the feet. Bright white
3. There is a palpable silence in my faculties
4. See those trees turning gold in the hills
5. Let us forget in generosity those who cannot love us
5. Take the side effects and say it's grace
7. Sleep now, it was just a glitch in the matrix.
8. And the day will come when you'll be unperturbed by that which, drowned you.

Some outbursts.

The Noose May 2018

Sweet Blasphemy

Ferocious and dispersed

The vultures glide

In the stratosphere

Devouring what was god.

January 14 2013.

The Noose May 2018

The walls of truth

Aimless wander
In the unfathomed depths
I drove into the walls of truth
Disentangled my mind
From the imprudent rationalisation
Of the subjective.

The Noose May 2018

Parents' house at dusk

The late afternoon sun
Whose heat dusk would soon to absorb
Sifted through the window
Exposing particles of dust
Lightly strewn on the glistening cement floor
Of the passageway
It must have been September

Daisied grass beneath my feet
Ladybird crawling along my fingertip
A fleet of autumn birds on the wing
Above me in their hundreds
Their remedying cadence
Humming and resonating in my head
It must have been September.

The Noose May 2018

Of those who knew not

When we heard stories
Of those who yearned
To feel the void in their hearts
with experience
To drive away the cold
through design
Stories of those who knew not
what to do with their hands
How circumstance
became the author of who they were
And how they gave up the ghost while teetering on the precipice of possibility
They told us of the fearless
Who pranced
on cliffs with steep edges
The hopeful
Who clung to the almost with dead hands

The Noose May 2018

The twilight of dreams

In the twilight of dreams
The hollow corridors echo
Louder than ever before
The walls are smeared
In nostalgia
Memories creep in
And congests weary minds

Somehow
We march onwards
Like intrepid lions
Cognisant of unkind truth
The way is long
And if we crumble now
We may never recover.