Smoke rising from the ashes
looks like regret in the glowing embers
the soul of excitement dissipating
The daylight makes the scene darker
what I’ve lost I never really had
but it sure had me – again and again
Sleepless nights are behind me now
the agony of unwanted answers
now lay sedated with questions
and countless stars pondering overhead.
“Bring enough change for the ride home
where we go you won’t wish to stay.
Though we leave this place for today
you and I were not built to roam,
it’s not part of our genome.
We go now because we must
but let us not tempt wanderlust.
Our roots will always remain here.
We too will always remain near
until all that we are is dust.”
“You act as if we have a choice.
What we seek is not in this place,
I can see it writ on your face,
I hear the quaver in your voice
why should you not instead rejoice?
The strength we need is within reach
be damned the ideals that you preach.
We move now to greater rewards
let us embark with enthused swords
the courage in you I beseech.”
“We move like branches in the storm
bent with intentions in the air
the winds of another’s despair;
this is what they see of our form
the subtle act we all perform
yet our hearts are deep in the ground,
sheltered from the sights and the sounds.
They would have you find strength elsewhere
but strength will always be right there
when peace deigns to come back around”
There is no place to start anymore
there is only an ending
a period to close the time
where the day falls
against the wall
dreaming of doors
and the name of hope
dies in a whisper on its lips
This period is just a long sentence unfinished
that kept running
and running
long after the path had grown over
stuck in the weeds of an epilogue
mourning the life of a prologue
desperately searching for a new beginning.
When the book closes
There is a cloud of dust
that the sun lights on fire
in silence
the dust settles before nightfall
The moon is away this evening.
I need no light to feel your shadow
surely in light it is well defined
but in darkness you are all around me;
I see you better than I see myself
Moments alone with you are savored;
only then can I truly disrobe
shed the skin that I wear throughout the day
and bring to bare the self kept at bay.
I want more for you than I can give
to provide a life fit to live
rather than a long list of tasks
we complete because we are living
to that end I offer my love
it’s ups and downs and subtle motions
the strange and twisting contortions
and the oft abstract expectations,
the unflinching courage to seek this life’s end
with you – my love, my inspiration, my best friend.
Titles reach out to escape the walls
bound books brought to desperation
searching for those to whom they call
to breach minds that lie in slumber
give them tools to control their fall
and fall they will – as we all do.
Find courage to stand again tall
the boldness of inspiration;
written words benefit us all.
I am
soapstone
unbroken
form beneath form
I am not
marble
hard work and precision
thousands of patient chisels
To be sculpted
is an easy thing
with only a little love
and subtle effort
but to be broken is much easier
achieved with the slightest carelessness
and an unyielding intent
An old fisherman casts his line
youthful testaments are biting this day
lost sentiments that keep the years at bay
and soften the pain in his spine,
“soon enough you will all be mine,”
to our detriment this I heard him say
a raspy voice like sediment at play
in the throat where it was conveyed.
He could not see – the hook was lost,
one of weathers mischievous tricks
scattered to the wind like an albatross
the lure now trapped behind a brick
far from the place it had been tossed
this cold weekend when the fog was so thick.
I approached the man from behind
having heard his empty threat to the sea
the absurd claim of dominion irked me,
“Bad luck, your hook is in a bind,”
I said with effort to be kind
though something else was stirred by my decree
as if harsh words instead fought themselves free
attacking the first they could find.
“Fish will bite brick as well as worm
if I’ve learned one thing in my life,”
as if I needed the lesson to learn.
“That must be the source of my strife
I’m sure all these fish I’ve caught can confirm,”
I conceded and returned to my wife.
On the knifes edge of gray
sirens call out through the fog
the sound is everywhere
yet always running away.
A dog barks
an angry snap to it – hunger
the pads of its feet slap
heavy rain against the concrete
if not for the nails scratching with every lift.
The siren is blaring
it drowns out the dog
save for the scratching Thick fog like white darkness
I know not where to run
Only that I must
to life – to death
my footfalls drown in the sound of that distant siren.
Thin words speak lengthy prose in the morning
each thread beset on both sides with lace
woven over of the threshold of this space
between one worlds end and another’s forming
contemplative clouds swollen and storming
one last gasp before they leave this place
with no more than a glimpse of what they face
just a glimpse is enough of a warning
On the other side the land is broken;
split asunder by imaginary lines
and named with words that are more than spoken
rather a label by which people are defined
beware the sleeper who has awoken
the world is a dream corrupt and unrefined.
Be here
be near to now
embrace somehow this time
to find the paradigm abandoned
in the midst of its prime demanded
obey the tao of crime
or here avow
the fear
Find peace
increase intent
don’t be content to dream
fantasies with weak seams will collapse
and just to end the screams we relapse
instead relent the stream
caprice is meant;
Find peace.
Grow Gray With Me 