Shh, be still now, or they’ll hear you,
at first they were just loud and mean
preaching gospel, angry or obscene
we thought they’d pass back into the blue
Shh, be still now, or they’ll hear you.
but they came from older things
long dormant, though well maintained machines
and without challenge their power grew and grew
shh, be still now, or they’ll hear you.
The wind is howling
white noise
percussion against the window pains
the sound outside fighting to get in
Could it be the warmth of the fire?
the dead trees split and parched
combust and conspire
to put the whole place to flames
if only they could
transcend the bricks between them.
Some are born to burn
others are made to build
Still others are outside
in the moonlight
battling with the turmoil
Silence can be so loud in an empty house
too afraid to burn.
Against my reasoned sanity
I’ve kept the body tucked away
gathering its own history
consigned to resign the day
to keep my concerns at bay;
ignore the rotting sacrifice
to spite the stench of decay,
(old milk and allspice)
from behind the heating device.
When I wake it is there staring,
much of the face devoured by mice,
it feels like the fires of hell blaring.
maybe it’s the radiator,
our resentful mediator.
Beware the soul that has been broken open,
a good soul should not break so easily
beneath the weight of words that are spoken.
The mouths in this place will move ceaselessly,
let it be silent violence that breaks them.
There is rightness to that kind of ending
the weaker mind can be quickly condemned
but the soft flesh was made for expending.
Exalted are those who, in their trauma
discover that pain is tranquility
for the mind is the essence of Brahma
trapped inside the body’s fragility
be not afraid when the body succumbs
for there is greater suffering to come.
Disjointed limbs
sprawled about in darkness
pressed hard against a sullen mirror
as if anything can be seen here
in darkness.
All potential lies beneath
locked away – boxed up – unseen
a forest of teeth
dormant
unfed
and waiting
in darkness
The outside is gilded rococo
feathered geometry
swimming like creamed coffee
the dissonance of naivety marbled
in darkness
Lift the lid
watch the darkness hide away
the limbs snap in place
the dancer takes the stage
the teeth gnash and grind
but it sounds like music in the air
We dance until exhausted
until those teeth need to be fed again
and you look down at the silence
only to see your own image reflected
in darkness.
Like laundry hung out on a line
dried out, rained upon and dried again
abandoned long ago
an empty house to look upon
only a strong gust away.
Weak tears tiptoe through the thick dark
a secret well-kept in the day
is given freely in the night
where dreams lie like graves
with grotesque things beneath loose dirt
only a strong gust away.
In this place love is built of bitter things
bonds that will live here until they die here
too fragile to exist beyond these walls
the world we’ve made revels in the broken
only a strong gust away.
If you’ve nothing left to cry for
you can look out at the stars
clawing through the darkness
with admiration
only a strong gust away.
Someone is always behind the curtain
don’t listen to the lies they might tell you
the roots of words can be twisted askew
but you can of this one thing be certain
someone is there to exploit your burden
to change the dynamics of all you knew
just to find reasons to make you subdue
as if consumed by some violent sermon.
They cannot fight these battles on their own
so of course they beguile us with their charms
with more wealth than we could have ever known
because the best way they can avoid harm
is to offer us an interest free loan
thus consigned in their name to take up arms
The youth – factory farmed
to keep corpses alive
the impoverished deprived
Lives – are always ending
for those we should be spending.
A dispute can always be found
between two competing parties
who know the others desire
and will gladly set it on fire
humbled
to see the other on their knees
they return back home and retire
forever in range of the sound
of those who the action inspired
What brings us to this horrid place
where the last bastion of hope dies
on the parched lips of empathy
uttered in the night breathlessly
concessions
like there could be found compromise
between the futile entropy
and the encumbrance of space
to bring light to life desperately
But there can be no forgiveness
between a rock and a hard place
though each needs the other defined
all that is in the self they find
disavowed
seeking another’s warm embrace
the memory of something kind
despite all that has been witnessed
share the loss of a world maligned
Humbled concessions disavowed.
With life this good what could remain of our pursuits
All the pretty things one would want are in our reach
all the dreams we had persist while we are awake
we but need to reach up and harvest those sweet fruits
and be given all we ask – no need to beseech
for it has been ordained this is all for our sake.
We need but define those luxuries we desire
and watch them take form in the hands of those who serve
for tasks are sure to be provided to us each
and we must be the beacon to which they aspire;
all get what they deserve.
Though should you find your destiny in jeopardy
do not agonize on thoughts that make us older
your place remains as always one of dominion
that place where the lesser people shall never be
for someone must always be pushing the boulder
to bring life to our valuable opinions.
Find the nearest sturdy back on which to crawl
to carry you to the other end of your dreams
for the world has put you there on their shoulders
and given those below endless reasons to fall
lest all this burst at the seams.
Fireworks bursting dramatic
fantastic
Polymorphic hues on balance beams
fever dreams
Spatial constrictions once confined
ignite the mind
Incredulous progress defined
in a currency of bright fire
chemicals and intent conspire
fantastic fever dreams ignite the mind.
Grow Gray With Me 