"reckoner" poems
The night falls swiftly,
And yellow flashes
Of northeastern
Fireflies mark
The edges
Of the
Hedge-lined path,
And gnats
Hang in the air
Like suspended gravel
While my flats
Slap the pavement
Like a ****** rap gavel,
In repetition so
Soothing I forget
My sentence
And all that I'm losing,
And everything makes sense,
I feel connected
To the heron
Gliding above
The river
Like messenger
Pigeons follow
The street grid,
Or like a charge down
The neural pathway
That makes me grin
When I realize
I'm not defined
By what's within,
No more
And no less
Than the wilderness
Can be constrained
To the way the wind
Sings its wearisome
Twilight refrain
As the air moves
And spins
Through the spaces
Between the wooden
Masses atop
Parnassus,
I feel the humidity
Flee,
And my breath quickens
As Corycian nymphs
And the nine
Sacred women
Of creation
By man's mind
Surround me and drive
Me to place one
Ancient foot
In front of its partner,
The images they conjure
Like a Reckoner diamond
Encasing me
In a cage of
Liquid iron
While beckoning
Me forward
With 72 hymens,
But I know it's a lie,
I know why
Men fight and die,
And it's not for any
Contrived diatribe
Promoting an
Unattainable
Ultimate prize,
It's to give rise
To the feeling
Of being alive,
That's all we want,
That's all we strive
To find,
And that's why
I'm approaching
Mile five,
And breathing
The life
Inherent in night
With the scent
Of the soundscape
Still burned in
My sight.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
there's a vibe in the joint, something is going down
there's a vibe in the joint, something is going down
the ringmaster marshals his mates, one senses the current
the ringmaster marshals his mates, one senses the current
something is going down, the ringmaster marshals his mates
there's a vibe in the joint, one senses the current
a head on a plate is sought, when will the strike come
a head on a plate is sought, when will the strike come
the reckoner does his sums, he's staying ever ready
the reckoner does his sums, he's staying ever ready
he's staying ever ready, a head on a plate is sought
when will the strike come, the reckoner does his sums
of a foot fleet the target is, dancing at all times
of a foot fleet the target is, dancing at all times
reel by reel the action plays, tis most eventful
reel by reel the action plays, tis most eventful
reel by reel the action plays, dancing at all times
of a foot fleet the target is, tis most eventful
when will the strike come, there's a vibe in the joint
the ringmaster marshals his mates, one senses a current
of a foot fleet the target is, tis most eventful
the reckoner does his sums, a head on a plate is sought
something is going down, reel by reel the action plays
he's staying ever ready, dancing at all times
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
3600 seconds, golden rich kids among bottle
scavengers, everybody hustlin', revenge?
the lights of society don't shine bright on them
collected bottles for a meal, irrelevant sunsets
the beauty of life decreased, dependency diaries
let lights loosely shine on these teenage giants
memories are opening up like red clouds, floating
in a time lapse, they will remember, in pride
honor and dignity, the one who splits the ocean
creates a shelter for the brothers and sisters
reckoner: burnings sandstorms, playful twisters
the one who smoothens a path to golem land
honey, milk and fruits, get rid of urban metal
come to us, be with us and stay with us
infinite loopholes, adults, kids and groups
the holy swoosh of a curl, your healing, stay
as you are walking through the ocean
as your brothers and sisters are with you
whiteblue words, you catch sentences like air
as you become a part of golem land
of us
Sep 4, 2020
Sep 4, 2020 at 1:33 PM UTC
fireworks at blank shores
revenge of the innocent
the victims are to blame for
who are the culprits?
i don't know if you know
my brothers and my sisters
burning sandstorms
playful twisters
stroke me gently baby
no one is to blame for
milk my brain and try to feel
milk my eyes and try to be
reckoner
in memoriam, friend
May 8, 2020
May 8, 2020 at 1:10 PM UTC
Where does inspiration come from?
A bubble waiting to burst,
thirsting for a host,
making the most of this splendor,
turning one thought into many...
creating something worth sharing.
Do we allow these thoughts to come to us only when we're ready?
What if they never come?
It's been a dry spell.
When will it rain again?
Again,
Again,
Again...
Is it a crime to be this happy?
Something is bound to go wrong.
Where does inspiration come from?
Despair.
It's been a dry spell.
Somewhere deep inside I want a storm.
Is it a crime to be this happy?
The self-indulgent reckoner in my mind,
give me chaos.
You want the perfect dream...
But you could never possibly imagine,
or believe that everyday is already the perfect dream.
Give me chaos over a happy ending,
again, again, again...
Sep 11, 2017
Sep 11, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC