Burning smoke
Hold it in
Cough it out
Taste it on your tongue
Burning girl
holds it in
bleeds it out
swallows it whole
makes herself forget
phasing in and out
Did I dream that?
World shakes
and bends
too weak (strong?) to crumble
phasing in and out
room flipping
screen screaming
keep it cool
hold it in
wait it out

you're not going to read this, and why would you?*

it would be either
naive
or
stupid
of me to expect even so much as a text;
as if our separation implies the ******* of a proverbial
Berlin Wall* between us,
where less than a week ago we were the same *country,
our landscapes of rolling hills,
city skylines,
and forests
so overgrown
that only
slices
of sunlight
could parse the ever-greened canopy,
phasing into one another seamlessly.

We may have been our own provinces,
but aside from small street signs declaring
Welcome to Jen
and
Welcome to Kyran...
aside from separate cognitive centers of self-government
between
your shock-blue eyes and fleek eyebrows,
between
my navy-blue irises and grey,
sunken sockets,
we were a willing confederation of persons,
impulses,
                dreams,
                             ambitions,
                                              anxieties,
                                                              lo­ves,
                                                                ­        and betrayals---

In our past, and provisional separations,
it was your betrayal that pushed us both
into the doldrums of love-lost confusions
and self-hatred;
not that there would be much value
in assigning a blame
with hurt still attached,
because the point,
it seems to me,
was that we somehow made it through everything together.

There wasn't a personal adversity we didn't learn to conquer
---until I began to fade away from you--
lanky, thin, often broke, and depressed,
I retreated.

I cocooned myself in studies of the past and the present;
for some reason, despite my overwhelming love for you,
despite the unspoken commitment I had made
to you
in my head
so long after your second infidelity
when I realized I was finally over it
and that I loved you more than I'd ever loved anyone before
--and in ways I never could have foreseen--

I backed-off,
I fell back,
I disengaged,

and

I essentially abandoned you.

After your impulsive infidelities,
when you admitted you hadn't been
nor were you in your
"right mind,"
you promised you'd get better.

You saw councilors, therapists, psychiatrists,
and psychologists... and you did.

You really did get better.

You overcame all that had been pulling you so low and so far into the darker vicissitudes of irrationality.

And yet, when it came to my own faults,
inadequacies, and disengagement,
I lacked your courage.

I didn't even try to overcome them.
In my self-imposed screen-gazed solitude,
I often thought of how much I loved you;
of how I hoped you might just wait out my confused disengagement
like I forgave you for your betrayals which had,
in their times,
hollowed me out emotionally for months on end.

The thing is, you wouldn't have blamed me if I'd left you then.
You would have understood, and let me go,
regardless of the heavy pain in your solar plexus
and the hollow feeling in your heart.

Though it never came to that,
I now have the chance to do for you what you'd have done for me.

I don't blame you for leaving.

I understand,
and regardless of this heavy pain in my solar plexus
and the perceptive hollowing of my heart,
I will watch you as you go,
        I will wave,
I will live with the weight of regret and memory,
and remember what you wrote in a poem once
when we parted ways after your first infidelity.

Sitting in the university library, reading on Moses,
what went thru your head was

"closure feels more like i can go on without you, i’m glad i met you, however an emptiness drenched in self-regret will always remain."

It's like age and the shorts from two summers ago,
The missed calls that are weeks old.
It's the pens I dropped behind my desk and all of the socks that never found their match.
It's the photos that I accidentally deleted and the fleeting moments I didn't make time to write about.
It's all transitory and fleeing,
Rushing by just like a breeze.
My life and the people are blurring together so quickly now that not even with glasses am I able to see
Who is there, what is staying and what will go.
I'm phasing through without stopping to hold a hand or smell the roses before
They're old and overgrown.

I’d done it before—losing that feeling that came in the door
when my love walked through, that the ground I was
standing on wasn’t quite steady and the world was spinning
the other way—but he loves me back this time, so now guiltily solid,
I watch as he shakes, head over heels with that feeling
I'm losing and painfully, I remember when both our axes
tilted right instead of left, when earthquakes followed our footsteps.

The late January 2 p.m. sun is as follows:
    - omnipresent
    - ten thousand photon hands per body
    - shining through souls;
         >  flesh has no stopping force if completely unraveled and dissolved in the sweetness of spring;
             the promise.
         a spring something that wafts through the still fresh year air,
     the one that gets animals and humans alike frantic,
  pink in patches, rhythms beating,
resonance seeking of matter against matter,

Surface vertical,
         horizontal,
--Phasing--
& Finally
Upwards when we merge,
having found each other,
released in sync
into the sky;
Light
and heavy with the journey.

And then I kiss you again.

Blurring,
Through a lifeless realm of light.

Blinding,
Is the massive ray display!
Phasing through two different voids,
As life enfolds, the dark engulfed.

Before the storm,
The tallest bricks reform.
And waves ring silence,
As the boat stays on the shore!

I'll travel to the distant past
To cast the gauntlet to the mass!

As the wise men fill with rage,
Their heads take cover
Under hoods of shape!

Detonate!

At this point it feels like I'm just phasing through time
Phase one, lesson one, experience obtained
Unto the next
I slow down once in a while, to appreciate the warmth of sun
The freshness of the air, the sound of silence
Growing up, I heard the saying "enjoy the little things"
I felt it was just that, a saying
Now everything feels distant and those "little things" are my only true connections with reality

I wish I could tell my grandfather that I understand
I understand why he loved walking and sitting among the trees
I understand why he'd stand and stare at a lake for hours at a time
For that is, that truly is, living
Life is too short and the "big things" don't come as often as we want

I go through each day as it comes and accept what it has to offer, good or bad
When night time comes, I lay and rest
Till the next, a reset
And it begins again
I am phasing through the Days
Sometimes it feels pointless
Sometimes it proves it worth
Take what you get
Appreciate what you have
For the days won't wait, they come, they go
Such is life.

I liked quirky women
It was easier to breathe around them
Their irregularities gave me something to watch, whether it was entertaining or simply odd
The ones that fully embraced that quality were the most radiant
Looking at the them was almost the same as looking into the sun
They gave me insight as to what I was lacking
Embracing their warmth gave me balance
I gladly take the backseat to them to this day
My place is observing from the side
I like for my vanity to be silent
The only issue with them—women in general—is that they have a need for constant communication and affirmation and affection
In the beginning, it’s more tolerable because everything is new and exciting
Then comes the inevitable: I get tired
Their quirks have become predictable, and their conversations dull
One week I’m deeply infatuated, then after the experiment becomes a process, the next couple weeks drag by with each day seeming to last years
That’s when I withdraw
Phasing out of a fifty year long commitment of love and charity, like the coward I am, then drifting back to the safety of solitude until the cycle repeats itself
I’m a dog
I’m a loner
One of these days I’ll have to pick one
But it won’t be today, and certainly not tomorrow

Sometime.

This town is famous
     for pretty faces,
     broken legs,
     and misplaced names--

A sentence penned,
An Oxford comma
          dangling off the edge of pages,
setting off appositive phrases,
lighting fuses--accidental--
          phasing out of view and staging
     tactical retreats

The winds of February mark off
intersections
                           Dow & Broadway
Midnight laughs echo off stratos
     then fall back--
     snowstorms at midday.

Caught in the rain on Sunday evening
this place don't stay awake so late.
Except, perhaps, for pretty faces,
misplaced names, or broken legs--
But forget the Oxford comma
         retreating, drenched, off of the page.

I was 3 years old
When I pretending to love this
"It'll be just a hobby"

I was 7 years old
When you told me I was good
At this game I played

I was 10 years old
When I began to love it
Just for you
And our time together

I was 13 years old
When you told me to try harder
I was a mere teen
You shouldn't have pushed it

I was 15 years old
When you told me I was awful
I cry all night
For you no longer see it

I was 17 years old
When I realized I was more
Than some silly game
That I pretended to love

spliff blazing, room hazing
eyes fading, legs failing
arms flailing, mind derailing

but darkling
you, darling

are a clarity,
a singularity
in this 4am city

The screeching noise on the pouch
marked with evil twisted eyes
pawns so dark and painful
watching on, phasing on
trying to deliver depressive storms
turns torn with thorns
others taken off from the throne
for his nerves never ever rests
and his mind a clogged drainage
for there is always time to stop
to give it up and let life live
for there is always time to slide
to leave all the burdens on a bridge
for there is always time to grow
to sink in the ever glowing circles
the doves have a disturbing coo
as their coldness distributes
the celestial night gets kidnapped
his footsteps stride in a torment bang
crashing the black box in pieces
punching for a breath as pressure rises
until the dawn brings the sunrise
wiping all the daunting scares
erasing all of the vengeful tears
Celebrating life as it should be

Night is like a black fox, prancing and gliding about
His black fur iridescent with the stars that come out
His large brush of a tail sweeps over the earth
His phasing eyes a moon full of mirth

I tread to keep my head
Just above the water;
But find myself floating away ~

While others were sinking
or swimming
down yonder, I ponder,
though my thoughts betray

The reality that I perceive
Which may, or may not be as limiting
Of that which you can conceive,
Or can see much stronger

I no longer bother;
It’s deceiving so I castaway,
And leave myself astray in the fray /
Blottering•
To alter my relief of mindscape
and believe, there’ll better days,
beyond what I face

Cremate my remains in the ashtray someday

Energy never ceases to exist
It perpetually permeates the cosmic collective consciousness

Wherever my soul will occupy
the confines in space
Of the vibrations that happen
to solidify my base

And give me just the slightest trace,
that I’m phasing amidst
these in-between places

I feel as though I am an imposter -
Egregiously living a grievous dream,
of which I have conjured;

That I am lost,
and therefore cannot prosper
Because I harbor improper resentment,
that I will foster until my departure

This fractal picture of the macrocosm
only grows larger,
but from farther away;
As it becomes harder to map the realms
of territories unchartered in my escape

I try to attain, but only falter in vain
To discover what the universe
truly contains

And convey that in words
to paint mental frames/

Maybe it’s strange
but one must think
outside the constraints

It may sound absurd but please
keep up the pace
Spiritual enlightenment for real
is the surreal end-game
in which we all play chase replacing
Incarcerated rocks to be polished,
in this giant machine

Perpetually incarnating
A shining spirit until
that’s all that remains

Once every imperfection
Is completely erased
When the correct particles
have been finally arranged

& Nirvana has since become fully sustained
Can I truly be One with my Self-
And not just a product of fate

Poet took a grandiose leap of faith,
   amid a big swig of moonbeams
   dabbling toes beyond starry galaxies
Milky Way spun in translations
    Pluto still looked perplexed,
Big Dipper gave a smart **** grimace
    wondering what the hell was
   going on 'neath the stratosphere
   when human beings can't keep
       their heads above ambiguous clouds
            feet  firmly planted on ground,
delving lofty heaven's bliss
     escaping the wrath of hell's fire,
  aggrandizing endless poesy that
absorbs sparks of a universal desire
        never phasing sun's obstinance,
   but, if you believe in poetry
      there's no telling where
        boundless skies will surrender**

...and the man in the moon tilted on his axis in a
    backward's spiral and unabashedly winked

I cross my legs under the Bodhi tree, sitting
in the sanctity of my well afflicted fortune

I splice the moment’s intermittent air
to drink of the jeweled river cascades
electric plush ~ ripened
to taste like lemonade Nirvana,
puckered up with pleasant chills
flowing through crystalline lattice
works to cleanse my mental palette
with a hint of mint placed on an Other-side
be rest assured the crest rolls atop the tide.

A vacant awareness is aroused from within the
sanctity of my sweet surrender ~
My eyes flutter blissful blinks like flirting butterfly’s
flapping wings resounding good vibrations
across the globe where space rebounds with
positive affirmation of the little girl with wet eyes,
smiles wide, an outstretched palm placed firmly
in a mother’s hand, how safely she's returned,
perfectly as planned.

I celebrate this victorious vision inside my skull
with grunting cheer and a third eye sneeze ~
my air fills with a burst of vision mist coating
my recollections piece by piece holistically,
light as a photon beam phasing in for safe landing,
strapped back in my body for leave of meditation.

I rise out from under the Bodhi tree, in my sanctity
of well afflicted fortune and give a thankful bow
for the good outcomes of the day.

Missing a shapeless space
and preparing for a view
that moves closer,
slowly and sure
into vision.
Precision, timing,
a perfect arriving.
Now.

Selah

~~~

is a word used seventy-four times in the bible.  The meaning of the word is not known, though various interpretations are given below.  It is probably an instruction on the reading of the text, something like *"stop and listen."  The Amplified Bible translates selah as "pause, and think of that." Alternatively, selah may mean "forever," as it does in some places in the liturgy.  Another interpretation claims that selah comes from the primary Hebrew root word salah, meaning "to hang," and by implication, as in weighing, "to measure"

for Sethnicity
~~~

what trifle these
modern words,
hurled, expelled from the
no country for an old body,
without passport or
earnestness of purpose

the yeah yeah yeah filler
of day tourists who
leave~refuse,
leave their refuse,
never mark-making,
nor even  a mark of
minor distinctions

what mystery valued then in these
olden words,
of which,
there are the fewer than
precious few,
possessing
ineffable, multifarious meanings,
never wasted or with dispassion disgraced

Selah

as a young boy
parentally captive
was POW forced-marched
to synagogue daily,
then weekly,
and now,
free at last,
Oh Lord
free at last,

to go
never

now wanting immunity
for my sins
but asking only from myself
my own forgiveness,
still and well recall the
puzzlingly feeling of

Selah

"forever"
explained the perpetually tired,
older father-man,
"it means forever,"
he who was wearily forever tired from voyaging
and living in a new, stressful,
inhospitable world

carrying in a single suitcase(1)
centuries of the continental drift of
global dispersal diaspora prior,
that cannot be well remembered,
only honored in the
forever recalling

but I disdain the explanation,
as if
"forever"
would satisfy
a ne're satisfied,
irreverent, teenage curiosity

here I am
decades on,
remembering the mysterious

Selah

embracing its many personalities,
endearing now by its revealing opportunities,
and its suitability
in this,
in the the hour of
now me as the
elder father-grandfather

weary-leery,
of a man's age of aging,
the approaching visible runway,
upon which you only land
and never takeoff,
during the phasing out period

and so I reconsider

Selah

and all its variants,
seventy four times

all those elders know too well,
there was never a

forever

so you
stop and listen,
but not to your own heartbeats,
but to tue

poetic lapsing pauses,

the in betweens,
thinking on that
hope for next one Nat

taking your own measure,
the hanging up,
the weighing up
of the always imbalanced
credits and deficits,
accepting the net net
sum of
the totaling up

yet once more,
despite all,
the poet rises,
stands up,
stops to listen,
to give blessing to
you the reader

all poet's
welcomed progeny and prodigy,
hearing your crying hearts,
youngest wishes
and grinding familia of
familiar fears,
expressed so clear
in all your scripts,
pronouncing
over them,
over you

Amen ~ Selah

once again ,
one last time
telling it to God,
or anyone who'll listen,
with fervor

smiling inward
believing even more now
in the olden
specialized mysterious,
powers
of a word
that means
exactly what you meant it
to mean,
when  your say

Selah*

Oct 2, 2015

Beyond what I may feel for you I haft to say that sooner is better then never that I love you about face. I can not really describe how my mind races daily but it's almost too amazing that it's  about phasing. Phasing the different thoughts that I think of all the time it's almost their out of line. :) I am patient in my soul and even more patient in body but the way you make me feel is so oh so exciting. In a hearts time I will give you the key to my knowledge. Hard to explain but it should make perfect sense or atleast it will given that my love is unconditional. I guess you wonder why I am the way I am and again it's hard to explain. Just give me the respect you would wish to befall upon yourself. Wether things go smoothly or roughly I just need you to know that anything I have had to hide has been let go. Questions you ask and the answers I give don't take it personal you know how it is. You will think this is about you but it is not but don't be depressed like the rest. :) I have too much to hold inside but yet I say that I let it go but we know I am more complicated then that, so. I have had more to say but I leave it at this if I am never enough for you just tell me I won't be ******. So I say but you almost know me better then that but your far from the others and nothing like the rest. That brings a real smile to my face and warms my spirit. Nothing left to say just gald you read this. In hearts time you will be mine.

Wired like a loaded gun
Waiting for the morning sun
Hello! How are you today

And I wonder
My love
Should I take the sun from you
Put it in a box of darkness
Like setting

I spread the ashes of a love never in love
just a circle venn diagram make believe but not Peter Pan
And love
I love you so
I am the sun
And I shine for no one

So box of darkness
Here I come

Speckled star dust farm eggs
Fresh renewed self conviction
Moon born
Phasing through to a life
Without you

Hedonism blood pulse
Still sentimental soul
Selling out to the lone wolf
Sneaky fox

Flowers tainting memories
Hand holding cheek kissing nostalgia bliss
Don't think
Of the one you will miss

Just kiss
Supernova
Little sunhat at nighttime party
Don't don't listen to the lies you whisper to yourself
You are the one you'll miss
If you don't help yourself

Feast on sin and self-righteousness
Reincarnation is second chance
Listen to the hands with the carnations outstretched
Fellow stranger with star burnt eyes
caring for those self told lies

You cheat
yourself
with handholding cypress knees bending towards
neurons collapsing
into the one who
Binary stars you
Binary stares at you
Holds you in your sleep from far away
Dream meeting past life fleeting into the now
You answer to this highschool crush pop quiz invader of reality
Who questions what color to paint the moon
Never almost drowning
But who has only ever taken a life
that belonged to them alone
relating in fictional patterns of physics
Undeniable wavelengths
colliding crashing consoling
You knew from the first eyes
that seeds of doubt would sprout in what you mislead as love
And you ask
Why not?

Hello,
        today is not tomorrow.

Stimulated by Neva's lovely verse "Layers of Faces"

Phasing from the pockmarked scowl
Of urchin from  the pauper's keep,
To fresh complexioned beauty
As she prepares herself for sleep.
Plunging to absurd
Amidst a paroxysm of mirth
With heaving breath and yellow teeth
Atop substantial girth.
A vacancy of shock
Within two eyes of palest blue
Who witnessed a young fledgling killed
By the cat who lives with you.
Dribbles from a masticating jaw
begin to dry
And a sudden bark of anger
causes feeding birds to fly.
A smile as warm as sunshine
Brings the pherimones to bear
And the young and the beautiful
Both magnetically stare.
There's a fan dance of faces
Stretched across the prosaic
And the layers within layers
Etch it all a rich mosaic.


Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
22 February 2011

There is beauty on the horizon that I can almost see
A dream dances a breath from my fingertips,
Ghosting in the corner of my eye.
Yet all I find is the winter in my heart and the burning in my throat.
Yet all I see is a watery landscape disfigured through blurred, infected eyes.

This beauty on the horizon calls to me
Leaves forgotten sticky notes that won’t stay put,
Fluttering around the caverns in my mind.
Yet all they do is land in puddles of venom.
Yet all they do is make me pain for what I could be chosen to forget.

That beauty is almost past me now
In search of another lover to spend the night
Or a ***** to pay to hold him for a while.
Yet he doesn’t know what I’d give to be near him without this broken shell.
Yet he doesn’t know how easily we could intertwine and never be broken.

Those beautiful dreams could be mine to hold
Weighing less than a handful of sand,
Phasing more quickly than smoke through the air.
Yet my heart feels knives smirking in the shadows.
Yet my heart has nothing left
        Except to bleed.

I am not apt to dance with fleeting judgement
Gone awry, left of right
A pain stained glance through her window
Strikes a splintered gaze in spite~
loyalties sworn in the moment,
shifted by the hands of time
reaching out with subtle movement
crashed onto the seaweed shore.
Coral kiss may not recover, unresolved and underscored.
A talon's reach amidst the plunder grabbing bodies off the floor
diving swiftly out and under
shifting upwards, on the run.
Phasing inwards contemplation
in between the Earth and Sun.
Moonlight walkers jubilation~
infiltrating everyone.
Cast a spell of Celebrations,
right of left, to keep the balance
turns the page
for brand new season~
blows the Horn of Clarion.

beautiful blackbirds
ebony adorned from head to foot
camouflaged for stealth
in shadows and night time sky
sleek sateenic sheen
iridescence of well oiled machine
efficient avian predators
ruthless in their call
attacking nested eggs and fledglings
with never ending caw
boldly bantering by day
foraging in parks, parking lots, streets and alleys
searching for food with eerie, ethereal, slow motion hops
seemingly phasing, at will, out of sync with time
ancient spirit travelers to another plane
they watch the world with weary eyes
spying and recording the day’s events
atop skies, trees and telephone lines
then whispering into the ears
of gods and poets and cornfields

Memories Perfectly Printed In The Pages,
Of A Locked--Leather Backed Book,
I've Repayed My Erie Wages,
And Yet My Pride Is Took,
Misery Formed In Many Different Stages,
Mirrors Reflect A Conversation Piece--The Hook,
Feared Creatures Locked In Steel Cages,
Sadly They Thought I Was A Crook,
Help Written In The Margins--Doleful--Enraged,
Bitter Words Spat In My Face--Look,
Actions And Emotions Staged,
A Mind Mastering Melancholy And Is Shook,
Names And Places Engraved,
The Platter Of Humane Treatment--Perfectly Cooked,
At The Last Paragraph In This Phasing,
Locked Book,
The Words To Be Continued,
Reflect In The Green Eyes,
Of A Caged Being

I’m phased out to sepia, Pet,
The last cab on the rank,
My good looks and *** a memory, Sweet,
For which, I’ve you to thank.
One day blending through to next
Increasingly a blur,
Dissatisfaction total now
For things ain’t what they were.
Ignored by all and sundry
Quite invisible to they
Who converse in hieroglyphics,
Incomprehensible, I say.
Overtaken by technology
Can’t figure out the phone
Facebook, watch and wallet mishmash
Won’t leave us alone.
Confusion at the pace of things,
It’s all moving far too fast
Queuing up for life
Leaves us, inevitably, last.
But bitterness ain’t with me
For I’ve loved your churlish ways,
Tho we’ve sailed through life on cobblestones
That old sunshine warmed our days.
But now I’m phasing out to sepia, Sweet,
Cos I’m the last cab on the rank
One quick kiss before departure, Pet,
For which..... I’ve you to thank.

M.
Auckland
22 April 2015

Sure I’m what most would consider a bright guy
but I’m not uncommonly intelligent
I’ve met many people I consider smarter
I make frequent dumb mistakes

What you like is caused mostly by
an idyllic childhood,
an extremely loving but eccentric mother,
overcoming a wide variety of relatively-uncommon/not-dangerous/but-embarrassing afflictions
constant movement around the country,
lack of religion, nation or professional sports team,
rampant self-pity
and
*** use and abuse phasing between infrequent* to daily**

I’m afraid of practically everything
But I’m blessed with the ability to constantly face my fears
Cannabis induces the purest fear of existence (i.e. awe)
Once overcome it produces life
And what dreams may come

Sitting in my red Lambo
the wind breathing down our backs like a perve
I look to my right after working up the nerve
She's sipping that malt like nobody's business
Her hellcat smile barely containing a playful tongue
Funny, I never thought I'd be jealous of a straw

My Ray Bans refract the setting Sun's spit onto her shades
We play tag with it before tossing the light through the windshield
Doctor Dusk gave us the full dosage
The tires grind on the gravel of our asphalt Neverland
I Peter Panic when she sheds her masquerade
She's got stunning mocha eyes frosted with truthful lies
I see her spirit phasing into my chest
A pair of luscious lips giving my heart a crimson kiss

She tells me I carry the scent of leather and sorrow on my sin
On hers, I discern daddy issues and untapped sin

The girl's as broken as I am

Sure, I might occasionally be smarmy and sick
by no means, though, a consistent ****
Her giggles wash all the bad days away
so my Lucifer impressions melts her ears with a

*"Baby, wanna play?"

The Man in the Moon will be leavin’ soon
Officially, he retired.
But Polaris and some other stars
Are saying he got fired
The Man in the Moon would never leave
Of his own volition.
Management, cutting back on costs,
Is phasing out his position.

His quarterly reviews have not been going very well,
They say he isn’t any good with change.
When he gives his full attention, he seems to do ok,
But lately he’s been acting kind of strange,
His bosses claim he sleeps all day.
And on cloudy nights, he stays away,
(It’d be age discrimination if they said he’s getting old)
So they say that he won’t listen and won’t do as he is told.
They say because he has seniority,
That he resents authority,
Won’t show his new boss how the job is done,
And in their final summary, out of ten, they gave him three,
Said that he doesn’t hold a candle to the sun.

But those of us who know his work
Know he would never, ever shirk
Responsibility, or jobs that must be done -
At night when he works overtime,
Countless souls look up to him, but
At night they’ll never, ever, see the sun.

If The Man in the Moon is told to leave
Our lives will be amiss,
So I took a poet’s initiative
To make management a list:

Reasons Not to Fire the Man in the Moon
Who will watch young lovers kiss?
Who will push and pull the tides?
Who will occupy the space
Where The Man in the Moon resides?
Who will tell the farmer when it’s time to plant his field?
Who will lead the eclipse when the sun needs lunar shield?
Who will be the subject of songs and nursery rhymes?
Who will notify the werewolf when it’s his changin’ time?
Who will calm the sailors after stormy nights at sea?
Who will make a silhouette of an owl in the tree?
Who will light the children’s path each All Hallows’ Eve?
Who would raise vampires from their coffins
Were The Man in the Moon to leave?

I ask these questions with a plea
Knowing that, if it were up to me
And I had the power to blunt the cutter’s knife,
We’d leave the Earth and Heavens as they’ve been for all these years,
And The Man in the Moon would have his job for life.
PwL  5/24/15w

Deep in my soul
     I felt weak and weary
And knew that my end
     Hung silently near me
But on the wind
     And through the trees
A sound fluttered down
     A nearby breeze
It danced along
     A deviant path
Bending and phasing
     In a joy filled wrath
My hollow bones
     So light and enchanted
By that colorful tone
     Not evil nor slanted
Pushed ever onward
     And looked out below
The source of this song
     I was thirsty to know...

I came upon a white city
     Shining in the distance
If it weren’t for the music
     I would have missed it
Eagles soared above
     From mountaintop trees
They flew with grace
     Together on a breeze
I felt myself hopeful
     And drawn to their course
To that faraway city
     Far off to the north
With haste I dashed
     Down rocky plateaus
For I felt at home
     From my head to my toes
Like a child I raced
     As the sun finally set
Until I was caught
     By a rope-wound net!

It was forever as if
     I floated across those plains
My captors carried me
     With grace so strange
As the music got nearer
     Eagles sang with flutes
Piecing together a melody
     Known by trees and their roots...

I was placed in company
     Of a magnificent king
His crown was white
     And his robe, and his ring
He bid me welcome
     To live among his people
In his white city of courtyards
     Towers and steeples
As I opened my mouth
     And my heart to say yes
He stopped me before that
     With one lone request
I must dwell in this realm
     Until the end of my days
For in hiding, he said,
     We all must remain
Hidden from the darkness
     That dwells beyond the mountains
Hidden among fairies,
     Family, and fountains...

So there I dwelt
     Until the end of my life
In that shinning white city
     With my children and wife
I’ll never forget
     That most fortunate day
That by music and eagle
     I was once led astray...

As I asserted my standing, slowly like sheep being herded
to a cliffs edge. They were each fading in painfully
hostile silence.. Have you seen something knowing that
this time no matter what, there isn't another existence
there is just obliteration of all there essence..

It was like candles being blown out by a chainsaw,
but a candle bled in a form of censorship.
With me though there ending crept through me
like I was feeling every torn filament undoing.
These picture once idyllic, but they were more
notable of what was befalling them and they ran.

Well not ran, the better word would be phasing
from one place to another, but the end result was
the same, a snow storm of embers fell around me.
So beautiful were the shades of each collection.
The aura a little different around each one that
was falling within me, but it was getting to much to
handle so many memories tearing through me.

I looked at the surroundings, it like autumn
leaves setting in snow, vivid emotions seeping
beneath my subconscious, I could see every
moment till that final breath... everyone was
so cold though, that last lingering moment of
fear gnawing within me like paper cuts writing
nothing but expressing everything in nothingness.

I had accumulated so many endings, such sorrow,
some happiness that the lingering moments were
fading. But this garden of white roses was being
blemished, consumed from within. I could still
see these things clinging beneath the surface..

"One with the will to live,
                   must first except the will to die,

"Our first inhale,
                     is exhaling the breath
that will eventually be
                         the last motion we do before death"

Then as this thought progressed through me,
I started to remember things of before?
              before I was a human popsicle.
There were so many machines, so much death
paused in its final exhale. Faces in slumber,
flowers painted around this garden of oblivion.

I looked around, and the bricks of conscious
memories were corroding no longer ethereal,
what was formed now seemed to have vines
collecting within them, contorting what was
pure. I gathered my presence and heeded that
what ever was consuming this place.

"Roses wilt not because
                 of time,
          but they sense the fading of love,


These thoughts were gaining pace in my subconscious.

"Memories are some time better
                       left under the carpet
sometimes we can sweep pain away,

I started convulsing, then once again regained
my composure. was this me or the memories that
we ashes in my mind. From others now fluttering in
this garden of oblivion, that now heeds its name sake
so very well.

The shadows were now surrounding others like
sharks tasting that scent of blood, but here I think
it was fear..
I noticed that the vines were echoing, I slight pulse
of aura permeated from them. In my ignorance of
staring a shadow had lingered upon the painting
of my feet and within a moment a searing pain
collected within. this was it as I started to flake away...

But then it was not me it was the shadow becoming
fixated on me and then cracks illuminated from it and
what was once a lingering gaze of quite a stature...

"What the hell was going on??

It looked at me in vacant gratitude, then saw the shades
lingered upon it and once again ash fell, autumn leaves falling
on fire.. this time it was different though as I grasped upon
its figure it was whole again.. it was more than before though
it was as I was.. It spoke in soft tones..

"You are new here,
                      "Yes, how do you know,
"Because this place is meant for the dead,
         Where are you from?
"Where frozen in death, static decaying life,
               "I recognize you now you were in the stasis chambers.
"Yes, were in our own purgatory"
            "Our own selfish need to linger on more
                        than the clock is meant to count has  lead us here,


I pondered on his references and knew that,
I had done this out a need to exist longer than
time had given me, not thinking of what lay beyond
that notion.
I told him my name was lunar regent, and when I first
got here the place looked much different, but they touched
upon me they feel like ash. He stopped me there!

"You are the course of all what has perspired in this place,
"Me but I didn't do anything?
            "Your alive where we are dead,
                "Your like a lighthouse in the dark,
  "But everything you linger on, drowns in the evanescence,

I stood back in disbelief, I'm the villain!
The desecrator of this once tomb of thought
that has no reason to doubt their existence.
"How do we stop it?
Jump in the pools of shadow and do what you did
before, always grab on when the shades linger on
the new infused apparition of reflection.

We went through this motion, it felt like weeks,
as every emotion that had lacerated within me
fell like tears of happiness from my grasp.
We had continued, and new faces and gratitude
had graced my eyes.. what was once fleeting
images and layers of reflection and thought became
form the oblivion I once gazed up now was a garden
of reality...

"We are all grateful for this last moment.
to see ourselves as we once were,

"But we can feel the petals
                once again fading..

I asked with sorrowful glances of what could be
done as this would just be a reparation of what
just happened.. I found out that even though
clinically dead our brains were monitored and
thought is but energy and all lingered in the
oblivion of each others memories.
This wasn't an existence they wanted they just
wanted to die.. to be noting once again as it was
meant to be..


"We will use our residual energy to force you
out, to bring you back, please end our suffering,

I didn't have time to even speak as I felt immense
pain flood over me, and before I knew it i
was cradled on the floor.. So cold, my sight regained
and I saw other pods, rubbing the frost from the
windows seeing faces that feel like ash before.
This wasn't a life.. this was a garden of oblivion,
and I was the blossom blowing in the wind.


I reached over seeing an emergency panel,
gazing at it for what felt like eternity..
I pulled it, as I did alarms rang..
I tipped over a pod unused.. blocking the door way..
Then I collapsed in exhaustion.


Awoken by the sounds of a phone ringing,
looking up I saw unfamiliar faces.
"Sir are you ok
      "You have been through a traumatic experience.

"Yes, what about those other people,

               "They were already dead sir,

"Frozen echo's in a chamber of ice,
             "Pardon sir what was that?

"Nothing, how long was in there for?

"Two days.  "Two days,

Once I was well I found out each of there names
and visited there graves stones, laying blossoming
flowers on each one.
Your at piece now friends.
                  There is no garden of oblivion only peace..

I walked of realizing, that life is every moment
every breath is one granted by our willingness
to see a new sunrise. Mine will come to pass
and i will be silent not an echo or in darkness
just a memory fading slowly away.

I am becoming more alone
the boundary of myself
regaining definition
its been
a long time