Spacious and widely set are these woven walls
stinging nettles wrapped firmly around whipcord center
a promise of pliable willow branches,
carefully soaked switches
cut green, bound in beautifully colored leaves thick with thorns.
Laced with the fabric of breath, desire, mystique,
keeping the luminescent beyond–
–beyond.
However, in those sacred moments that the air stirs first languorously,
then rising to delight in how it can twist and whirl
a joyful movement of shifting scents
breeze spraying aside the curtains
they, no heavier than dreams.
Rolling across the stones laid intricate with care
drifting to cross the lone pond.
Glassine and undisturbed as puddled silver
thickly magick and deeper than deep can be known–
–as the air quenches and remakes.
Where tendrilled branches cast ripples,
serpentine gashes play at being rivulets of liquid
cutting once pristine layers
on which reflections flared.
Alive and shedding mirrored skin,
sloshing possibility and promise
as ancient hearts cast aromas in the air,
only as decayed wood left to rot can.
Dust and brittle powdering husks
broken down from their heights to furnish food and fuel
that the next generation might cast ramparts of growth
riding high on the bones of the Old.
Silently they sit.
Gazing down at the scarred and skittering pool,
beaming hope in darkly radiant intensity
from behind eyes set deep with focus.
Contemplating and wishing fitfully,
that as it calms,
they will find relief from their personal tempests
peace through the restoration of waters
returning to their unblemished state.
A cauldron of insight,
slickly metallic and alluring
where they might at last catch sight of their foes,
drag them into the shaded glen,
bleed them onto the stones,
leave their corpses ragged and torn,
that they can be reborn with the changing days.
Drift into their thoughts unfettered by care,
smile indulgently at the colorful cacophony
as it unfolds behind their drooping lids,
Oh!–what flowers Spring will surely bring.
Entangled
Twirling cosmos viewed through a kaleidoscopic lens,
existence looks fantastical, realities coallesce and transcend.
Vibrant love of colorful patterns shines out bright,
as the dimensions merge, bleed over, and carry us into every glittered night.
God-like moons enchant with prism captured beams,
crossing quantum divides that mark us closer than it seems.
Entangled in your ethereal netting of a soul,
I enjoy my time admiring it dance and float while casting a nebulous and beautiful chaotic swirl.
Alight with energy beyond my own so powerful and stacked,
a halo, surrounds you and smears out all that once was black.
I’ll gladly sit and sip with you the dust of our galactic fathers and their mothers,
drink deep the peace you brought with you from nowhere,
someplace beyond the stars.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Kickstarted
Deviation with a shame filled walk,
it’s plasma bubbles in a tank of thought,
where they merged and had my sanity trapped,
nuclear pendulum of massive dis-ease was the fact.
Now nebulous and scantily clad is my sight,
but I’ll find my way home though it be darkest of night.
Incredulous that it’s less real than a dream,
where logic ends, existence is black and cracks at the seams.
So pour me a round of that stuff they drink down,
that liquid ignition to confidence where rests a crown.
Smoldering with intent and delusions not realized,
kickstart your mind until it swims to the beat of life’s song.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Obscenity Cavern
Obscenity cavern,
plastered with fucks,
gives rise to the new age
raised to bow low
keep your head down,
duck, tuck and roll.
Whispered in stories,
like the day it last rained,
awash is the removal
of freedom from failure,
honesty and blame.
Turncoats and bastards
(that’s what they cry)
mirrors twisted and cracking
impossibly contorting
as futility sighs.
At long last there is sense,
(though it echoes too loud)
in the canyons of absence
where each of the dead
is everlastingly proud.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Jack-o-lantern Man
Jack-o-lantern grin on a soil soaked face
brings a gleam to the eye,
sickly off color oceans sweetened with flint
surrounding coals sunk deep,
always to be diamonds forever unpressed.
Invert your beliefs despite all the tears,
blessed by devils to love
gruesomely wishful, they call themselves angels
sent from above though their stories are fake
always spinning tales out of mud.
Shackle that spirit into iron bound blocks,
wither your freedom away until it sounds
desperately weak with a voice
that falls empty on stunted ears and emotions
no longer caring, and even pretending.
Blaspheme your values and lay in a trough,
where the swine plunder for pleasure
dig deep in the mire
suckle like beasts on that sick, sweet, distortion,
all while minding the cross.
Dangling promises to release your mind,
kept partial and broken
sentenced to time after time,
words carefully chosen
to leave you feeling less than divine.
Where the road crosses and breaks in the dark,
trails leading past peaceful places
handily strewn with spent dreams,
delusions of grandeur and half glimpses of faces,
all of them wasted, missed chances for safety.
Memories and hopes on the battlefield lost,
reclaimed to a tune that warmed off the frost.
Singing songs of cast rays from the sun way out there,
rainbows breaking on storm’s end
embracing adventure, barking laughter, always finding the fun.
Limp and crumpled between all the worlds,
a traveler beneath the weight of mental fissures deeply cracking
out way beyond where he started his feet land where he was hurled.
Giants lurk out there in a mezzanine layer,
reality is a sure thing until fact and fiction are swirled.
Rise up and break down those glassy illusions,
smash down the oppression (he thinks to himself)
that would handily break you under flurried confusion.
There’s a joy to be found and happiness born,
love to be shared, thoughts to think, great lessons to be learned.
Memories hurt like jagged rocks in the side,
but you’ll never go back, forward though not always straight,
no matter the rivers rush or how frightening the ride.
Loss can stain clothing, grief stain cheeks,
but the future is brighter ahead then behind.
Jack-o-lantern grin on a soil soaked face,
in mercy you’ll be pulled from the gates,
yanked back out of the chaos and dusted off sharply,
lips with compassion and renewed desire,
lay on you words of beauty and a kiss to inspire.
You’re insides are gone,
replaced with a flame,
one beautiful fire,
let that light be your name.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
The Middle of the Story
Where our main characters find themselves journeying apart from each other into adventures and places unknown in the hopes that they will reunite as realized and complete individuals on the other side….so we begin in Reno, NV…..
S & H at Taco Loco
Transcribe the hope I feel
into optimism and other such essential stuffs.
Imbibe the flow of sweet spirit
that drips from off our lips and out our mouths.
Believe in dreams meant not to fade
even if the road has twisted uglier and uglier still.
Hold tight to goals we shared
as our footsteps drift further and further apart.
We’re still in love,
and this journey which so profoundly changed us
is not at its end yet – just an interlude.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Missing Flow
I’m looking for a flow to spew,
to vomit pained fire in words and lyrical nonsense,
drench virtual paper in a cascade of feeling,
wishing for the release of a moment where my fingertips press
onto keys melded into an outpouring of something greater than myself.
I’m looking for a rhythm and a cadence,
and empty hollow to rest my eyes and heart within
where my brain can’t intrude or interrupt
where the language is something not of word
but made of a noise that comes from deeper down
primal and totally absent of definition.
I’m looking for a tapping of keys that harmonizes with my feelings
and that calms waters boiling over with discontent
where monsters lurk and playful creatures breathe imagination
as though it were the purest of air
carefree in their joy and hungers
contented to be their own masters and demanding nothing from anyone.
I’m shaking the trees of logic and thought
demanding that they un-fucking-root and get on with the business of dying
so that chaos can wash over me as a wind of compassion
letting me know that the madness is so very real
that anything else was a facade and an illusion
that its okay and I’ve come home to rest where I belong.
I’m lacing myself with poisons to calm the nerves
incinerating the memories of dreams never to be realized
in pools of chemical passivity
bleeding oil into my disquiet shores
where the glass and sand are never polished and always cut
though they shine like diamonds to lure you in.
I’m hunting for a flow,
that special moment when time collapses on itself and there is oneness
understanding, immutable confidence, and a distant stare
connection to more, recognition and awareness, centered peace,
consolidated thoughts, pacified emotions, acceptance, and satisfaction.
I’m looking for a flow,
one that tells me loneliness is temporary,
and that the universe is there in all its infinity and splendor
ready to skull fuck me back into joy when it feels fit
that reminds me there’s no point sulking and being miserable
this is the human condition in all its shit stained raimants
and that I could be grateful for the ability and opportunity to experience it.
I’m looking for a flow,
but right now I’m just writing, and there’s no flow to be found.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Wistful Short One
Sing me songs of vitriol all laced in melodies of love,
shame my wisdom gained by years of pain,
tell me that sentience comes from somewhere up above.
Mock my broken harpsichord that I played with as a child,
tone deaf ears on loosed strung strings twanged hard
milk savagely the loneliness we all feel as calling from the wild.
Forever more the notes will keep as a heap rotting in my memories,
the smell of favored sympathy and dulled attention,
what once was beautiful to the ears of youth is deadened by perfection.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
F*ck Sunshine
I’ve found playful meaning
in the sharpest strands of daylight
while they bleached my night tan
into a wholesome red and brown.
been stripped clean of the unwholesome.
The rasping, the choking, the decaying
scent of another moon laced night
spent chasing dragons down the streets.
In the silver kissed necklace of shadows
that roll menacingly beneath the stars
as a slipshod grasp on tenuous reality
falls away, fast as a bat, never to be caught.
Crawled out dusty and beaten by self
into the unwelcome openness of daytime
Where people have jobs and families
go do things and have fun of their choosing.
There’s always a sick, nasty bitterness
surrounding the way I’d look at the crowds.
In those moments when shame carries
the day and bitterness over the injustice,
of wounds septic and worsening, a brain
melting beneath the heat of inquisition.
A Cadillac of contempt would sit, shining
In the corneas of each purple smudged eye.
Letting the self-loathing and concern go awry,
masking envy as hate and desire as disgust,
riding panic and fear out as arrogance and disdain.
Patronizing seconds as the world creaks,
moans its way out of the decadence of night,
quickens into the tittering joy of form alive.
There’s no surface to touch and manipulate
no interface that allows for a connection across
to that other world imbued with shiny smiles
and unbroken teeth not doing unspeakable acts.
In those moments when the sickness begins,
wafting out of your skin to notify and alert
anyone caring to notice of your diseased being,
your lesser than status, your unworthiness.
Those are the defining moments that show
the defying strength and fortitude you want,
when you have the opportunity tell the world
“get fucked, piss off, I make the next choice.”
or reaffirm the skepticism pandering to your
apathetic acceptance of what life has become.
Those are the moments when the shear grit
required to simply gut out the next series
of bad decisions, knowing how much it will hurt
but owning it, owning that the deeper down
you crawl the higher it will feel at baseline.
When you finally disconnect from the grime
Long enough to breathe untainted air
Purified in the radiance of sunbeams
And the wealth of happiness that soaks
Summer days beneath the blue painted sky,
there is a startling awareness, an epiphany,
a closure to doubt and a recognition,
that sobering up is just getting high in a new way.
Your shares are appreciated, thank you.
Infectious – Melting Neurons
Can’t believe the folks at Free Verse Revolution were kind enough to post a poem from me, thank you so very much for the privilege and honor!
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 