What kind of magician are you?
One who would carve a heart in two.
Offered as truth, the audience view
Miraged oceans made of sand.
Light retracts, distracts,
Sight fights sleight of hand.
The eyes will see what you will show,
The mind will always think it knows.
The heart will lie, cheat and steal.
While smiles conceal, frowns reveal
That still we can't say what is real.
Clear skies are often coldest,
Tempests' temper seems subdued.
Sunlight skims the tiles of rooftops,
Admires the view.
The sky was never blue.
Obsidian haze and gunmetal days
Light the life we choose.
Broken yet not dismayed.
Too long we have been walking,
Proud in our shroud of the grey.
My brother, my teacher,
My foe and my friend.
Our ghosts shall speak
Once more at the end.
We wage wars with words,
Whetstoned sharpened wit.
Wounds win rounds of applause.
While metaphors are mustered,
Rusted dictionaries dusted,
Cobwebs shed from unread shelves.
Pikes of pronunciation
Portraits of ourselves.
While poetry parries,
Prepares and rallies,
Stares down violet valley below.
The violence of lavender
Shines like silver in the snow.
A scent sentenced to silence,
Flowers on death row.
Ocean spray flays ancient cloisters,
Darkening already withered stone.
Moonlit towers crumble, humbled
By the weight of stolen thrones.
Sound proclaimed in hollow domes
Found shallow, wanting and alone.
While wind rips down forgotten walls
Tapestries tap out in hallowed halls.
Memories shed shadows in the fall.
The call of rust, echoes of war.
Ruin and dust for now and evermore.
We were poets,
Hearts etched upon our sleeve
The lords of our intent,
Words bloomed for all to see.
Each branch of thought considered,
Whittled to express.
Carving the forest in our likeness
We paved the landscape with our breath.
Woods would sway in idle days
Sunkissed glades lay bathed in gold.
Nights waylaid by dancing maids
Cheap ale and tales of old.
Fires burn, flames unfold.
Tender clutch of the cold.
We tend to forget the bargained,
Up rivers and creeks,
Paddles, disowned by the meek,
Cast away to distant shores.
Fade to grey.
We become poets once more.
What is the promise of a stranger worth?
Lavender smiles and honeyed words,
Submerged in the sound of hope disturbed.
Usurped and flayed for misbehavior
Hung from a tree, sacrificial favour.
The flavour was sweet, at least for a while.
A taste of haste fried ripe in denial.
Smothered in smiles and candyfloss
Lightly glazed glances, a dusting of loss.
A promise made pays a heavy cost.
We greet life with idle sighs,
Slowly satisfied by sightful eyes.
Glancing at wrists handcuffed to time.
Bound to age rusting, cast iron cage
Displayed by fine wrought bars of rage.
Captivited by captivity,
Tied to lies scrawled bold on fading page.
Decieved by beliefs and words that saved.
Yet don't dismay.
Pay no toll for the hole
You carve within your soul.
That debt is paid in full,
Through sweat and toil
Blood set ripe to boil,
Shed countless lives ago.