You can rest now,
Sooner than you think.
For your legs are tired
Mind is mired
By past events.

It has not all gone your way
Nor has it gone too far astray

You may walk that corridor
Past haunted portraits
Hung skewed upon the wall.
Each one faded,
Canvas scratched
By the history of memories attached.

It took years to build these walls
From the remnant of a childhoods fall
The first and last line of defence
To halt invasions and consequence.

You can rest now,
Sooner than you thought
You fought the battle,
You lost the war.

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.

Her eyes, Belie,
The darkness deep inside.
Her smile, Defiles,
Laws of nature running wild.
Her hair, It don't care,
If it's right or fair.
She'll take you by your soul,
Eat your heart in just one go.

Her tongue, it runs,
This city of the sun.
In her mind, you'll find,
A piece of the divine
Lost within her thighs.
Don't fight the coming tide,
Embrace the genocide.
Sand proscribed, a bandaid tried
And weary from repeat.
Lost to the waves, sweat and sleet.
Ocean licks brine from
Timeless, restless feet.

We are savage and we are cruel
And we know well what we do.
The imprints of sycophants
Echoes in blood red rooms.
The certainty of colour
Washed white and hung too soon.
A memory of light,
A bloom of deja vu.
Remembrance forgotten
Rewritten and then renewed.

Still we know not what we do.

The past is a sombre portrait,
Watercolour hung askew.
Dust and skin belie the truth
Stroke sure yet misconstrued.
In the maelstrom of intent
Will is broken before it is bent.
A promise spoken, never meant.

Still we know not what we do.

Our skin is like a canvass,
Etched upon by the lines of age.
Its tale is told by the scars that unfold.
Some made of sorrow,
Some born of rage.
An unturned page, ripped and unsold,
Tossed into the fiery blaze.

At least it kept us warm.
For the winter was rough,
The land cracked and torn.
The trees lay barren,
Bark scorched, for ever more.

Turn the page and start anew!
Yet still the scars remain.
We look ourselves, for now at least,
Though we will never be the same.

The smile beneath the shadow
Of our eyes, anointed red,
Can never belie what we have endured.
The hopelessness of being burned
From a trial by fires warming allure.

So although the flesh may falter,
No longer to be found anew,
Our eyes shall burn with a fiery purpose.
Till the day life's debt is due.

So another morning creeps,
Light leans around mountains.
Peeks surrounded by pastel clouds,
Sky becomes the canvas
To frame and then enchant us
Forever from our reach.
Allowed but a moment's peace
Far cry from warring reefs,
Seas of ire, oceans of grief.
The shore seems so sure
Till it breaks beneath our feet.

Tell me a secret,
One you've been keeping
Quiet, still beating
After all these years.
Start at the beginning
Till you find the feelings
That once gave meaning
To all your fears.

Was it the lullaby
Softly sung in the night
That brought a tear
To your eye?
Was it family leaving,
Friend lists depleting,
The child that died
In your arms.

It was never easy,
This world will defeat me
One day at a time.
So did you give up the fight?
At the very first sight
After being blind.
So tell me a secret
One you've been keeping
And one that will make you smile.

There is a power in words,
That lie in hushed whispers
As much as those roared aloud.
We are prey to the rumor,
To the secret our head is bowed.
We stumble over truths,
Ideals that are never spoken.
Lest the utterance of dreams
Dissolve in the real
And with it all hope is broken.

Seven deadly sins, they say,
Those vicious voluptuous ways
We shall all share and spend our days
When the devil is at our door.
For I am guilty of six,
Perhaps more.
And if I plead as guilty
Than I wonder what you say?
"Oh none" said ever so sweetly
In the glowing piety of the day.
But what would we mutter
As the shadows come to play?
And light is but a memory
A silhouette in dark decay.

Would we lust for the last
Vestibules of light?
Would our greed lead us toward
Rage and pride?
Would we fight to the end
For that last bastion of light?
Treading over fallen fables,
All to escape the night?

The wise are always troubled
And the troubled seldom sleep.
For the path is dark,
The shadow's deep.
The past imparts pressure,
Weary woe-marked feet.

The pillow lays drenched.
Sweat beads billow flames of fear.
The sound of all our choices
Rung clear for all to hear.
The cries of countless voices
Found close to passing ears
But ghosts weep most in whispers,
Lest the living hear their tears.

Find solace in solitude,
There is no shame in that.
We are unknown to ourselves
An ocean to which we delve.
Scarcely coming up for air,
Entangled in fathoms
Whirlpools of despair.
Waves of introspection
Spare us shallow reefs,
Yet cast us into darkness
And the horrors of the deep.

Angels and Demons
Whispering on your shoulders.
My shoulders lay bare.

The stratosphere beckoned closer.
Vertigo took its toll.
Soaring higher than we could ever know.
These wings weren't made of wax
They melted all the same.
The ground seemed far once
Now it's as clear as day.
The clouds get out of my way
Their softness is a lie.
Cunning *******
Floating the atmospheric tide.

I have no such luck.

****

I Think I can see my house...

*crunch

A world slowly woke from slumber
Stumbled through a sense of Deja Vu.
Free from sheets of sleep and dreams,
Borrowed stitches pay the seams
Of patchwork quilted promises,
Forgotten threads of make believe.

There was a blinding light,
Then silence,
Then a hiss.
Air escaping,
Gasping bliss.
Glass shatters,
Shadows play.
A nuke hit the stern,
Evacuate!
No delay.

Days passed,
No one came.
No one heard the message,
No one 'brought the rain'
The solitary escape-ship
Suitable only for one,
Headed forlorn to the next
Inhabited sun.

"Nine thousand, seven hundred light years away"
The computer said in its monotonous way.
"And what of our air,water and fuel?"
"Approximate range is 6.2365r light years,
Will that do?"

"No" he said with a sigh.
Confined to his coffin
Not much to pass the time...

Internal recording 00001// lifeforms:1// life support: 97%
"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."

Internal recording 000012// lifeforms:1// life support: 88%
"It's been a while now just me alone,
No contact friendly, or otherwise
In any nearby zone.
The quadrant is quiet....cold..."

Internal recording 000021// lifeforms:1// life support: 67%
"The stars....They....
They look so peaceful...hehe
What do you say?"
"Was that directed at me?"
Said the ships AI.
"Not you, the ones outside silly!"
"............?..........."

Internal recording 000037// lifeforms:1// life support: 24%
"Row...row...row....
Your...mind......
Gently out to space....
Lonely lonely lonely lone
Life is but a race...."

Internal recording 000042// lifeforms:0// life support: 0%
"..............................."


The farmer heard a roar
And stopped his toil for
A moment,
No more.
He saw the heavens fall
And knelt in prayer and awe.

He hurried to the hole left in his land
Where a voice spoke in a language he didn't understand....

"This is Hal Katurn of the trade ship 'Endeavor'"
"Can anybody read....?"
"It's just me here......
In the vastness of space...
A grain of sand..."

In the shadows of stone mountains
Down a fragile ancient road,
Past streams and dreams of glory
Lay a leader bathed in gold.
Haunted by the battlefields of his youth
The forgotten weight of halos old.
A poltergeist of progress
Found downed outside the zone.

Cast off by players unknown
Pretenders covet the Apex throne,
Where Aculites fight like demons
Exorcising respawn beacons
Necromancers in the Thunderdome.
While Tom seems indisposed,
Locked up and throwing rocks
Mocked by the gulag and the snow.
Though we really should have known
The esteemed leader was on his own,
His chute just would not open
Slowmotion to the sound of Chopin,
Commander falls just like a Stone.

How sweet the sound of silence tastes
Like honey dripped from the gates
Of serenity.
In the still we hear the walls of reality
Echoing louder than we could imagine.
In the fathoms of solitude the roar is
Forgotten.
A human diaspora from ourselves
If but for the fleetest of moments,
Trodden upon
By the boots of a thousand souls.

Due laden leaves.
Fog spun in webs
Draped loose on
Fading trees.

A Forrest on it's knees
Bleeds honest tears of autumn,
Pleads solace from the slaughter,
Screaming "Is this all that we can be?"
The wisps of white washed memories
Haunt the glade for those that see.
Conscripts of the ancient mist,
Souls called forth then cast to sea.

He lived his life on water,
Coming and going with the tide.
Caught in a clockwork rhythm.
Bottle of *** close by his side.

Sailing far toward the northern star,
The wind lashed sails bare his stride.
The gale fails, Neptune's breath subsides.
Veiled pride confides in an ocean's memoir.

A choir of crestfallen waves,
Lay dormant at his side,
Prepared to pave the path of secrets,
With untold misery and lies.
A choice to make, a course to take
Coordinates only he could decide.

With a sigh he held the helm,
Turned her steadily back to port.
Sailing back toward that beaten track,
To the town where his child was born.

April showers on the hair of fools.
The lost and the forsaken,
The blind and worthy too.
Sodden to the bone bleached
Follicles of folly.
Spring feints and fakes,
Flash of sun, lone melancholy.
Forgotten light is left to linger
Behind a promenade of clouds,
Veiled in the shroud of a harsh midwinter.

Turn the other cheek!
I did though my pride was stung,
Then you struck again.

When precisely? We're none too sure.
Between the glow of progress
And the clawing of the walls?
Perhaps.
Somewhere along the western shores
We lost the stars of ancient lore
We forgot the lanterns of the sky.
Drowned in artificial days and
The swell of time.
Let these crests fall and fade,
Accustomed to the eye.
Storms of solace, the galaxy
Burns fires of hubris.

The Universe, The Universe
As far as the eye can see,
And more.
Beyond a hundred horizons
Or any lands lore.
A law unto itself,
To which we are all subjects.
The cheek!
To be so intrusive and yet elusive in kind.

From here to always
And every step along the way.
It is infinitely large,
And we are infinitely small
Or so they say.
Well then rejoice!
We are forever insignificant.
Our most triumphant failures
Shall not stir the sea of eternity
From it's silent expansion.

The wind speaks in warnings
Passed fast from leaf to leaf.
The rustle of the undergrow
Stirs firm in disbelief.
Pitters and patters scatter
The fallen pain.
The last acorn of the season
Falls,
A final act of treason.
A beacon among the coming rain.

A wise man raised his hand,
Declares intent to speak.
Says nothing.
A crowd begins to think.

Just because you break
Lines in odd and obscure
Places.
Does not mean you are writing a poem.
No rhythm,
No rhyme,
No structure
Nor Metaphor.
Just a stream of consciousness
With an occasional literary flourish.
Now I am not one to adhere too close to the rules
But shouldn't this all be in one paragraph?

Tell me then how to face this day,
As the coward that would avert his gaze?
Untold days spent lost and slaved to sand,
Hand in hand with the chains of time.
Or should we grasp it as would a man?
By throat and pain and circumstance,
Each rage at our command.

For promised lands are paved with pride.
The consequence of shifting tides
Once known and a matter of course.
But these seas lay uncharted
Horizon bleak and endarkened
By the shadow of a brewing storm.

The words were never ours,
Sentiments and sentences
Sediment from fallen stars.
Spoken once upon the start
Before concepts were a concept
When all was nothing,
All was dark.
Before dark was a thing,
Or no thing,
Before meaning had meaning,
Or a universe to dream.

Suddenly.

Like an almighty sneeze,
Came space and time and similes,
Metaphors, mistakes, and mystery
Supernovas, hangovers, hyperbole
All within the blink of an eye.
(Yet to be created)
The words were solid, stoic, patient
Content to spend eternity waiting
Forever fated to play the patron
Of a thousand dying worlds.
Until such time you called its name,
Until the first time it was heard.

"Connect your charger"
My phone commands, I obey.
The power was off.

The rage is real, I think.
Bruised lip, clenched fists.
A Portrait of a *******.
Ink slipped and left to fade,
A visage that only we create.
Born from all we know,
All we feel, All that pains,
Every manifested sorrow.

We would do well not to dwell
Upon that which we can't control.
But as the years age and grow
The certain turns into the unknown.
Curtains close yet start the show
As the actor dies off stage,
Alone.

There's a searchlight in the sky,
Casting watchful
Yet pock marked eye
Upon the weary wanderers
That roam under the light.
Suspect by nature
When you navigate the night.
Guilty by virtue of where you
May retire,
Or not as the case may be.
Under streetlight
I follow foxes.
Or do they follow me?
Among dreams of clocks
And mirrored razor blades
Rusted by the sea.

They come then in the fall.
Just before the russet sunrise
Adorned with skies of gold.
They come with gifts
And promises,
Tales round fires to be told.

Some oaths shall be broken
While others shall be sold.
As stars collide and planets fall
The wanderers return,
Gathering up all they have learned
They strike out into the world.

One day when we are old,
Yet not so old that wonder's lost.
We'll talk again once more of love,
Of loss and wanderlust.
While whiskey warms our aging bones
Waging war against the frost.
Our tales turn to pantheons
And the follies of fallen gods.