Tag Archives: existentialism

Surreptitous

Wind settles to rise again
Tacit words in the darkness of our mind
both maligned and constrained

What future would bear their weight?
Even the past refused the encumbrance
resigned to slumbrous fate

And thus the wind will collapse
as forgotten phrases from long ago
They flow, fall, then relapse

Yet still they both hide a storm
the scent of distant gray clouds in retreat
like peat the sun made warm

Regrets are the ghost of life
ever they rise again to haunt our thoughts
the mind caught amidst strife

We charge the mic with our song
but often old words hold new words captive
the active words made wrong

The melody thus silenced
we find solace in the moments between
a routine of violence

Witness the corpse of our muse
but bear in mind not all is truly lost
the cost of fear recused

But it will wake in the sea
the crashing waves of errant thoughts at night;
dying light sets them free.

The Bounty

Charred wood and ash stirred to bright gold embers
violence begat flames that fold in tongues
crack like whips in darkness to inspire lust
the night takes the fire into its lungs

Thoughts are loud – though they remain unspoken
silence is where the sane call their home
the madness restrained surely dies inside
or there resides like eyes free to roam

The sounds of life are encumbered with death
all felt the time plundered as an offense
the cliff ending while they keep running on
absence becoming something immense.

But finality waits for tomorrow
they will travel no more after this
Three weeks to create a friend from nothing
one rope to end it all in abyss.

Horticulture

Let’s talk about
establishing healthy values
in yourself and others.

As for yourself
always be a work in progress
know your limits and strengths

There is a seed
inside all of us that will grow
if cared for and watered

There are weeds too
that will choke those seeds to nothing
if not ripped from the soil.

Growth is violent change
raging against the garden
within to find greatness

As for others
gardening is hard, dirty work
find the seed – inspire fruit.

Mannequins

Torn fabric
         threads scattered       to        the          wind
                    reaching out for others
                                 finding


                                                       nothing.



               but reaching

Reaching should be enough
           to overcome deep cuts
                        but it’s not anymore.

         Once we were confidently clothed,
                      but deep cuts make
                                                                    
                                                                    torn

                                                                                              Fabric

          and we are made naked and anxious
                    holding rags
                               acting like that’s going to
                                                                            keep
                                                                                   us
                                                                                     together

On the Other Side of the Trees

Just settling in
quiet calm of the horizon.
Now it’s dark.

Eyes closing never to open again.
Now it’s dark.

Along the edge of the river she stands staring at a point far away across the water. Despite the stillness there is much movement between them; the water carries on, the soul stirs. The wind wanders amidst the turmoil and stalls against the rocks. Beneath the current a big fish is terrified of being caught, but it inside it wants to die.

That in itself is okay we are told
this life is a strange and brutal beast
raging against the thought of growing old
yet wanting some control of its end.

In the trees she sees
movement amongst the shadows
drawing her in.

Her thoughts may travel beyond the threshold
enveloped in that void to the east
that strange space she had failed to comprehend
where light descends and becomes deceased

Now it’s dark.

Phoenix

Let’s bring fire to this thing and set it free
burn these cages down to the ground
All those lives we’ve left abandoned and bound
those blind folded eyes that we demand, “see!”

no longer can we resign to let them be
raise your hands, your voice, raze the town!
Let’s bring fire to this thing and set it free
burn these cages down to the ground

Embrace your anger in apogee
bury the world in righteous sound
bring an ocean of will to find your opposition drowned
We have left but one philosophy;
Let’s bring fire to this thing and set it free.

Guilt

Abolish this burden inside
the corpse of the future excised
an unavoidable demise
seeded in me to now reside

Sounds of writhing are amplified
as the roots force the flesh incised
“Abolish this burden inside
the corpse of the future excised”

There is still warmth I must confide
as if one could make heat from lies
this life found to be death disguised
it remains here though I have died,
abolish this burden inside.

You Must be So Aged to Ride this Ride

Youth was such a storm of progress
shards of life in broken houses
compiled sweetly to impress

Older but still young at heart
I made knives from shattered glass
cut myself from cloth with class

Only time lapse could capture younger days
the ones now burn slow and pass in a phrase
something about redefining success

There is no need for time to keep going
the river flows against our rowing

but the water rushes onward still
despite efforts to paddle uphill

An Evening Fog

Loud laughter echoes in the night
turmoil ripping through sober thoughts
the tranquil air thus met with blight
to bare the yoke that madness sought.

Beneath this burden I was caught
trying to connect sound with sight
while in my mind a war was fought
loud laughter echoes in the night.

It consumes me with such great fright
threads of sanity frayed and fraught
all the sense and reason taking flight
Turmoil ripping through sober thoughts

the joyous sound reaps what was wrought
as evening overcomes twilight
darkness becomes a juggernaut
the tranquil air thus met with blight

strikes me like a meteorite;
suddenly I am me but not
the truth inside is held down tight
to bare the yoke that madness sought

dim enough to have been forgot
though behind the mind it shines bright
and bricks can birth the Argonaut
just split thine head to release the light.
Loud laughter echoes.