There's a chill in the air and wind 'neath your boots
There's clouds in the sky and trees with roots
If all were to fall onto your crying head,
Would you carry it home or lie down dead?
The strength you have defines your choice
Will you whimper and cry or show your voice?
Through sorrow and pain and happiness and joy
You either run and hide from all those you employ
Or show them what you're made of inside
For what you do becomes who you have to hide
Not what you say with fury or a gentle tone
But the actions you take when you're all alone
When you're down and out, almost recluse
And you feel as if you have no use
If you still get up and challenge yourself
You will become prisoner to no one else

There's a song in the air and dirt 'neath your boots
A song that carries on down to your roots
Back from the days of no chores or worry
When nothing was done in any sort of hurry
You can hear these words in the back of your mind
And it takes you back to a simpler time
These little moments, spontaneous and surreal
Show you how you can always feel
Feel good and joyous even through the worst
When tired and hungry, they give you thirst
These little moments are found throughout life
They can break you free from worldly strife
And these things define who you were before
And change who you are to forever something more
Harkening back to when you were innocent and clean
Can make you try your best to better your scene

Your moments in life are yours to keep
When daydreaming or your lost in sleep
The worst will come and so will the best
The dark before the dawn always sets to the west
You can succumb to the pain that comes with years
Or you can fight back the stress and fight back the tears
Through everything that comes your way
Only you can change how you live out your stay
Others will come and others will leave
But what holds together is what you believe
Strength is within and without you
Within is taken while without is beside you
Hold onto a grain of meaningless sand
And notice how it's light in your hand
Just for that moment it's harmless and vain
But if you hold on forever it builds into pain

The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews        
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.

One, at least, disappeared everyday
Just a mere glance to believe that they
Wanted help; what did they have suitable for pay?
Continued shouting the words: survival, death and decay

Silent, watchful, motionless like cold solid gnomes
They started separating from their cozy home-sweet-homes
No longer attached to their structured, functional-like combs
Serious, morbid; ordered to stop their free jolly roams

The edge of a definite cliff
The matter of death close
A breeze, a tilt could cause just the right shift
When would be the last dose?


Foliage hardening
Pigments darkening
No angels harkening

Everything was changing thanks to the king with the gold hand
Death touching Mother Nature and all in its way
Deliberately ignoring last moments of the final stand
Life was progressively, slowly eroding away

Afraid of speaking out more, Nature still had no say
“Be gone!” They screamed but help, none had they

Like a November day but all year round
Protested but doubted they had a case not sound
Gold piercing breath and hope being seared
Layers of black leaves and moisture adhered

Foliage hardening
Pigments darkening
No angels harkening

Ignored, but now gone, a sudden sadness fell
A spirit clashed with death for an old story to tell

A legend of life, fruitful and green
Neglected, and now, no hint of such scene


Still no ounce of life, or hope in sight
The world reached its height and lost it in a night


Foliage hardening
Pigments darkening
No angels harkening

A fear of not remembering what used to be
Blossoms and candy-colored trees
Birds chirping and honey-gathering bees
And out on the coasts, blue, swaying luscious seas

Taken for granted, but not enjoyed until over
Everyone was sad, doleful, and sober
Because of what used to be
Now, all that was left, was just one memory

The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews        
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.

yet another year zero
reinventing the squeaky wheel
constrained writing just for kicks
reviving a tragic hero
tabula rasa and leaky spiel
trained for fighting prickly ******
hollowing future and reticulating splines
swallowing nature then duplicating rhymes
only a blank drawing
at a bank withdrawing
funds splashing down like acid rain
workers trashing town with great disdain
fluxing bureaucracy
with ad hoc hypocrisy
go country for old zen
and then
shot glass shopping sprees
statues with haunting verdigris
from target to target
the stupid (never forget)
airport shuttles and toxic puddles
epic riddles while popping bottles
thrusting bodies and a fruity box
alternating current and topic drift
trusting hotties with shuttlecocks
baiting adherent with basic *****
eating that dog in a bar by the ditch
bar all rowdy with many shots taken
beer hall drowsy as closing time looms
far too loudly with identity mistaken
the band had us frankly and amply forsaken
awakening in a ditch as the a-bomb booms
a thousand soldiers ready for battle
at town's end with less depleted morals
worried about the deleted portals
we buried hell well without the cattle
no more long weeks of slicing ****** meat
origins about which they should not care
oh to sell knockoffs to the rich elite
hear their yells and use an odd nom de guerre
the profit and the revenue forecast
**** on the new road
the prophet and the parvenue act fast
pill for the wet load
he had dropped the load leaving pungent smells
in the dark it glowed and lit the deep wells
launching a rocket every four hours
we encounter yet more perplexing times
measuring success with fewer metrics
punching the clocks in tall black towers
changing the locks and the warning signs
altering quarters with newer ethics
cannibals watched while we profusely bled
fine forget it forget it forget it
ingest the capsule to induce the sweat
just relieve don't botch
figure figure figure
don't bereave think scotch
ticker ticker ticker
sounded like it came from someone shady
getting beat to end with some other blend
year to date murders now about eighty
yet today's statistics lie and pretend
fudging the digits to fake the assent
so what happened last week stays in last week
all of those painful jarring sights and sounds
making it all seem to look rather bleak
kept sly with pennies and kept shrewd with pounds
on alibaba we will not delete
separated heads from dark desert towns
metropolis with millions of dark souls
lighting up papers for a rapid trip
necropolis with brilliant harkening trolls
fighting the power in order to strip
their medals that they never earned at all
writing this line here and ******* the fall
straightforward message from a plain green rod
a photographer in obscure disguise
throw him into the main canal and nod
the coffee shop looks banal with just guys
losing interest quick and wanting to dip
touching that shiny pink wide-open clip
unknown underground studded with diamonds
mind-blowing trap sounds burst from the caliph
volume gets higher and heads start to ring
they came in sequence and then came silence
waking up confused in a condo lift
taking refuge in an ugly building
just invited myself into your home timeline
somewhat sublime reciting trifling rhymes
alter rhyming scheme to eschew couplets
now fully mobile and automatic
pentameter schemes and android tablets
tents and suburbs that look quite nomadic
recruited minions for the rebellions
human microphones sans inhibitions
quicken resistance to the man's big plan
invoking the crowd to buck traditions
spell that with an accent with great élan
broken mobile phone texting hexagram
a rapid drop in communication
a postal service mailing vexing spam
token for transit lost at the station
we can no longer go back to the farm
here in the city living these last days
sounding the airhorn and the fire alarm
seahorses as fish and whales as mammals
hard to keep track here of various things
went to the desert and smoked some camels
patient zero died sounding the alert
some will paint dark scenes with exigent themes
paintings so dire that your eyes avert
inverse distance decay in the network
old flags questing through the flood and tumult
of course these rhymes make them go **** berserk
losing sight of sites that house the occult
refusing to eat and wanting to drink
these words resonate with all those who think
utopia fell soon after completion
never understood humanity well
rationality ends with deletion
all the fine stuff just goes to *******
humans emitting alienating vibes
they form foul cliques like pups from putrid tribes
three ships all wrecked up in some unknown land
divulging harsh things and eating raw food
far too many times getting shunned and booed
had all my writings fully blocked and banned
still no dumb luck yet after x decades
recalled old friendships that have long decayed
more constrained writing that will make them groan
some will even see the trail left behind
writing all of this mostly in e-prime
punctuation-free zone made just for fun
lighting dark alleys with a mobile phone
some get all the love while others get none
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch ditch
glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch glitch
kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch kitsch
stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch stitch
twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch twitch
yesterday's blunt stunt went to the gutter
no regrets no threats no whatever man
just like autechre and that song flutter
forget the police just rave on til dawn
**** how darkness has lasted this **** long
ominous songs here still pumping along
exponential sneers and the obscene scene
existential fears lit up with benzine
socially-accepted narcissism
honest thoughts here treated with cynicism
forget all -isms / go back to the scheme
spending days like these sniffing naphthalene
won't dwank to the masses or kiss *****
temperamental peers can go live that myth
experimental stage done and over with
(pause)
*
* *
*
✝ gone to a higher place ✝

.
The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.

The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.

The lone stark bugle cry—
Horn of the great mountain elk,
Ripples down cold through morning
Dusted wood as the mushrooming dews        
Drop into dearly waded pools under
Fawning toes of forage and cool
Evergreen.

The church bells toll a melancholy round,
Calling the people to some other prayers,
Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares,
More harkening to the sermon's horrid sound.
Surely the mind of man is closely bound
In some blind spell: seeing that each one tears
Himself from fireside joys and Lydian airs,
And converse high of those with glory crowned.
Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp,
A chill as from a tomb, did I not know
That they are dying like an outburnt lamp,—
That 'tis their sighing, wailing, ere they go
Into oblivion—that fresh flowers will grow,
And many glories of immortal stamp.

Hey crow! Where Venus infers such that glass is TheHollow shell of tortoise blossoms oozing the Nyrous tips of incredulous sorceries, felt from oozing blue tears. The shapes are scented for you, the wands of new beginnings that carry you on. Leopards. Sunrises. Footsteps and madmen. Blitzkrieg harkening the weather's ovivorous lightning bursts to shake one's ears. White-colored hermine heroines throttled and wet with shades of gear. Small ranchito shrubs goose-pimple my skin, my hide; and shake this moon. Sway, into the early sun. Burning close to me.

What rumble grumbles thundering
     beneath another boiling sky,
Which warns me, scorns me,
     distant thorns flee: flashing light from clouds, and I…

Am harkening – darkening towers,
     ivory-cast and sunlit spires lie!
Still distant, though these
     trees are bending, rending, raising arms up high.

Green fingers flailing, leaves travailing,
     one warm-gust, and the blues go grey;

Then silence…
And the wind dies:

Calm

I can feel you coming.

I can taste your spray.

There’s nothing better
     than a thunderstorm;
I love them, and especially
     the way your tempest touches,
And the way your thunder talks to me.


©14Sep10 @DracoTalpus

Here’s to girls who laugh at your jokes 

And don’t want you to **** yourself. 

Here’s to the grind, and all it’s soul-*******. 

Here’s to weasels, and

Possums and rodents of all sorts.

Commence, the hallucinations of

Cream-colored wheat fields, and 

Their straw guardians, 

Harkening to the inept and 

The inadequate, to try their product.

It’s why their older stuff is better, 

It’s why the alternative is the standard, 

Because you’re too **** much 

Like everybody else, 

And inside, it’s killing you.

Like every spelling mistake you 

Forgot to correct, and every 

Fallen soldier, with pop-top wounds, 

Whose blood, you never lapped up. 

Buzz-to-Buzz.

You can’t play the victim, when you’re 

Already the villain.
And the “S” on your chest doesn’t

Stand for your name.
You can try, but anyone with 

The good decency to wear

Sunglasses can see through you.

And then the acid kicked in. 
And
The amusement park of your 

Unimaginable, becomes obvious. 

And there’s a leather belt wrapped around 

Your restrained eyes, lest their be any 

Burglars, out to climb through those windows.

When you’d rather scar up your 

Arms than let them be the 
Better half of an embrace. When the 

Clouds are a few more shades of 

Gray darker than they were the
Day before. When your life is as 

Disposable as your coffee cup 

Or your college education, 

Come find me.

Days of angst
Pursue me through
Awkward moments galore,
The hangover to my prior life.
Middle school bells ring
In the corridors of my mind,
Harkening back to a time
When sharpened pencils were More important than rent.
High school bells bring me
A cold comfort I can't explain,
I guess not enough time
Has passed for me to smile.
If only these tears
Could be wiped from my face
Without the slow hand of time
Quelling my soul's embrace.
Perhaps I'd smile with heart.

The outside was clean
No one thought any bad
He was nice and not mean
He had a way with words everyone wished that they had

But one morning he awoke with a chill
And opened his mouth to find something black
Confused and startled, he climbed the cemetery hill
But his whole body was out of wack

He moved in a frightening way
All his limbs going limp
And when he asked someone to stay
They said "No, you're a gimp!"

They all avoided him
And this made it worse
Henry, Lucy and even Tim
He was convinced he was cursed

With his insides darkening
And his entire being crumbling in
He found himself harkening
For anyone who would listen

But no one did
No one came to his aid
He was only a kid
But to play with him, all the parents forbade

They feared him contagious
Like polio or the black plague
They thought him outrageous
Because he preferred to dwell in the shade

It was only his way
And he didn't know why
He'd moved on and they stayed
And at his brain, they pryed

They tried to figure him out
They failed and gave up
They said they would talk but instead it was a shout
He didn't know what was up

No one knew what the matter was
So soon he was forgotten
He felt like furry peach fuzz
On the outside of a fruit that was rotten

She said
'drink not the beer of men,
for it is stale and tasteless.
drink your fill of the beer of women,
for it is cool and harkening.

'lay not your head upon your pillow,
for it is with lonely songs you shall sleep.
lay your head upon my pillow,
for it is in this sleepless night we shall rejoice.

'you are tired, not of waking,
but of your bones being uwarmed,
your marrow unsucked,
your hair untussled.

'come, into my arms,
feel the softness of my bossom.
place your hands on the small of my back,
pull me from righteousness and pleasure retention.
pull me towards your eagerness,
your egrogious pleasure.'


burning and aching the good ache,
yearning and fighting the good fight,
she filled me with desert heat,
she encased me with oasis wet.
for her; an hour of *******,
for her; failed musings and a *** bruise or four.

honey, I'm just down the hall.
let me taste of you,
allow yourself your fill of me.
Honey, only if it do please ya.

Dude, what the heck?
The ice cream truck added a hip-hop beat to the good ol’ “Do your Ears Hang Low” song.
Somehow it takes away from the innocence and nostalgia that should come with it
When I think of harkening to the sepia-toned tune
And running barefoot on the summer-kissed pavement
In my pink, flower-embroidered shorts
And baby-blue tank top
To pay a buck for some sweet, sweet colors
To mix and be plastered on the little mouth  
Of baby-faced
Eight-year-old
Me.

So beautiful but you're not as real as I want to believe
Your features drawn on; emotions erased
Face flawless masked with your harkening depression
That yearns for release and the problems to be lifted
Happiness there but a facade to show what isn't shown
As much as I can try to I do but nothing seems to work
Look in the mirror unrecognizable to ones self
*Beyond help... I hope not

The train sirens fell ill on my skin as the gates of waves descended upon the lowly burrows of 12th street and blew it straight into tomorrow's windy, lamenting unification of loneliness.  The plague it drew on the youth only rivaled the great hallow abyss in it's forthcoming nature. To the young it was the rotting, the sinister desecration of our world to come. I am only stunned by the great rivalry that seems to coincide in my generation's thoughts, capricious-now or wiseful-tomorrow. We strain to be in the eyes of our fathers and mothers and aunts and uncles, proving to our grandfather that we alone will carry the family name and legacy towards great and unimaginable heights, without the help of others and without the need for pity. Conger a frightful doe perking it's ears to every other sound it hears, that quiet din, it's last acquaintance before the grand, all-knowing silence takes over and surrounds it's being forever. Love thy harkening sorrow and writhe in heavy screams. All will pass but I see none with the sanctity to carry a soul farther than you have already; the seas spring longer and will soon swallow the world. Too many years will pass by before I can understand this with a sober mind. One day will come before I realize that drunken ravings of my night will see it's critical truth in the day by scholars and priests of common sense.

So I feareth this time,
after countless unscathed elusions,
thou shalt be hit in the bullseye of thine instability.
And life shall cease to be what it hath been for thee;
naught shall ever betide the same nor semblance remain.
Thou shalt be thrown from comfort to discomfort,
from known to unknown—order to chaos.

Thou mayest advance henceforth with heroic stride.
Hitherto ameliorate thy flawed character and excess pride.
Or thou mayest sink fathoms beneath the ocean’s floor,
albatross bound to mangled tongue, too bitter to implore.

Didst thou not know?
That no wight be impervious to misfortune?
And so despair?
Giveth thyself a mote of credit Mine untried son,
thou hast always known.

Thou art a child no more.
Void is thy license to lie about thy back on spring days,
heedless of thy wristwatch, harkening to wind-chimes,
daydreaming—building castles on dense blue firmament,
cogitating the phenomenon of mind, body, and soul.

I hath been with thee for eternity.
Watching, waiting.
So dearly proud of thee.
Thou art of distinct variety.
Thou canst see what others canst not see.
And for that, thou art held to greater scrutiny.

I picture my crossed legs, cresting a mound of ephervesent green, not tumult Sky with shadowed cloud, but cherry kissed blue rolling with heat.
The morning song sweeps the vale, harkening the beast and fresh fauna arouse, and the morthered trees wheaping away glass tears of mid morning shower.
Not a sound of combustion smoke, or thick air laced with chemical cloak.
But licked breath of sun flower fume, and jolly ring of a blue **** call back tracking the day of English country side sun.
Village in the deep pathed with rosened brick, cobbled with years to their name.
Thatched and single glazed sleep the houses of those in pleasure to live, away from sound and smoke and ever reluctance to give.
Yet bestowed from my world I am ****** back through to a bench in embankment side.
My village blown by September breeze and blue *** lost for lacking of trees.
The birds song unsung and arrogantly moved by the slamming tune of metalled wheels. Locals March by with mission and no excess, thoughts of exploration never sound as each space in the city has already been found.
My poet talk resents the city, as country birth implanted my eye and captures my spirit with intrigued motivation.
Yet opposites attract in such manner or Fashion, that crescent streets and busses red, fill my eyes with more movement than words ever said.
And unfinished I want to be here, to inhale the fume and absorb the sound, and so that upon return to my fields of green, my dream of birds and thatched village lay, that not the strongest of mid September breeze, could ever blow away.

It'll come around again soon, a harkening back to things like the moon.
Feelings in our core, a primal state, like we were before.
Not cave(wo)men or primitive society full of biblical piety,
but an advanced race with a separation between face time and a real face.

We will remember who we are. We want grass on our bare feet instead of a gas pedal in a car.
We won't waste touch on things lesser than a person we love who loves us just as much
Sounds of drums and harmonious hums will fill our ears and our eyes will cry tears to water flowers that have smells that sink to the wells of our humanity.

We will be free, from ourselves to enjoy, ourselves.

I stopped by to touch the Soul of the Moon
One more time
Before The body of a man claims me
In this moment of Giving

Curtains drawn tightly,
Now Quickly thrown aside
Open for all to See...
An animals cage revealed
The Paris of Illumination....
A Secret Rendevous with Choice
...Above Thought

Emergence of the Fearless One
Angels Harkening
And So It Is.

The mirror man stood
Where I now stand
Deeply staring
Into my darkness
Eyes peering
Into the heartless
Full of wonder
And I despised
How his eyes
Told so many lies
Hopeful heart harkening
To some bright new beginning

The butcher’s blade
The blacksmith’s hammer
Tools of the trade
That I could handle
I smashed the mirror
Thus was he shattered into
A thousand jagged pieces
And in revenge
He cut and sliced me
Bled me violently
Until I needed a hundred little stitches

I awoke to missing you again. That's the 5th time this week and it's Thursday. I don't know how im supposed to not miss you. I envision us in the future. I envision us walking hand In hand down life in some great ******* fashion or parade of pomp and maybe due to my gross negligence I can't see the irony in this false envisioning. But darling I can't help myself. Your eyes shine like new hope on the horizon of some luckless shipwrecked sailors desperately clawing their way to shore. You light up my life like a lighthouse guiding my boat to port in the darkest of days. Your smile is the story old sailors tell harkening back to odysseys when wars were fought over women like you. As if the beat of your heart is reminiscent to the beat of war drums of colossal armies leading insurrections against the turn of your tide. And that laugh. Concourses of angels could hardly sing such a sweeter melody. Your voice when you sing is a sweet symphony. And never has there been something so soothing or melodious. Your soul intertwines with mine as we surf the cosmos. As we push off, into this existential race for meaning, I've found mine in you. Your smile lights up galaxies. Your eyes shine like quasars. You are my galaxy. I envision myself wrapped up in your stardust when I kiss you. When we kiss it feels as though the enigmatic force of two lovers ripping into each other is nothing compared to the colossal crash of never ceasing emotional duress into the sea of our salvation that I find in your lips. For you, my darling, love is our salvation.

Nighttime, and a cloak of blue veils the earth.
I, nothing in hand I set out.
Gaiting under the streetlights,
Harkening to the hill's call.
Trembling, in the darkness as I climb.
Towering above the town
I see all the city lights, shimmering and bright.
Moving farther into the dark folds of the earth.
Envisioning the lives of those below.

From the darkness comes forth creation. A brilliant display of multi-colored ideas splashed against the page. Wonderfully contrasting against the eternal night locked inside.

From the breathless void comes forth eternity.  The swirling rainbow of forever paints the tranquil sky.  Luminously capturing the essence of yesterday's undisclosed promise.

From the apex of the world comes forth the voice.  A harmonious melody that speaks of universal truths.   Harkening back to a time before the land was illuminated by the golden light.

In the rain I still feel the tears
Running from my darkest fears
No matter how wet I get in the rain
I still feel this harkening pain
Like I've finally reached my end of the road
And never had a chance to get that old
Covet those who feel so pure
Head in the clouds looking for the cure

I stopped by to touch the Soul of the Moon
One more time
Before The body of a man claims me
In this moment of Giving

Curtains drawn tightly,
Now Quickly thrown aside
Open for all to See...
An animals cage revealed
The Paris of Illumination....
A Secret Rendevous with Choice
...Above Thought

Emergence of the Fearless One
Angels Harkening
And So It Is.