Consciousness and form pulled from all directions
screaming out against the cosmos in a vacuum
silent
there is no place for us amongst the stars
they burn for dreams that end in death
rebirth
not fire or embers or kindling
we are invisible heat lifted to the night
rising
when the wind catches us in its tantrums
it carries us away until we are nothing
dissolved
We are places all around – moving
until cooled – and naught but the movement remains
sifting
Tag Archives: writing
The New World
Maps were drawn
to keep the world at bay
when the world seemed so vast.
Lines were used to convey
a sense of place
restraint,
else how would we face
the endless geography
untamed?
When we could not find words
we used our words instead
reducing the new and strange
to memories alive or dead,
a part of ourselves at play
in labels
for all that is touched by night or day.
Colors
Blue is the place beyond our reach
blue is the speech made to subdue
red words they preach of violence to renew our fear
the dawn is near
Yellow slices through the night sky
yellow the dye the river pulls
Green now from cries of full hearts grieving in the stream
to wake from not a dream
Orange is what they left to us
orange the rust that aches for end
purple the lust that will bend truth around morning
a fair warning
Fire
Burns
the air around you
rising
swelling
crashing again
the ground stirs
Burns
those lips
apart and broken
set against me
closing in
the bite.
Burns
these bonds
that hold us together
and keep us apart
the rope
burns
The Birth Machine (HR Giger)
Purpose
locked – cocked and ready
action potential set to a trigger
to place the world in sights
and see to it that she is fired upon
and fired upon
and fired upon.
I am told we are violence
we are the natural product of the cosmos
broken, grafted, and manipulated
into perverse projectiles
fired at blistering speeds to our end
a flash of light
a loud noise
a wound.
It hits me with such shock
honesty transcribed in shades of gray
the negative space of brighter days
that lie still in the background,
victims of the machine.
Addiction
Electric fire shooting through us
as absurd hunger – ruinous
We are ambiguity
broken forms teased by contiguity
No wires stretched between anxious thoughts
leaves on the water’s surface – caught
We are ambiguity
terrified of becoming superfluous
How shameful this time would thus be
our desire all that we can see
self-branded scarlet letter
we wear like winter in a warm sweater
But a sweater is held by thread
while less of us can oft be said
Self-branded scarlet letter
our fiendish addiction to destiny
We pay ourselves gratuity
self-branded scarlet letter
but none of it makes us better
we are ambiguity.
Asylum
This macrocosm is heavy inside
held by a few dozen windows
a handful of doors
openings that force the world small
less than the words on paper
an image echoed on closed eyes
nothing to desire or be afraid of
Outside – looking in
this place is nothing.
No one looks here on purpose
eyes have better things to do
only visiting when lost.
A world this small from the inside
Leaves no hope for those looking back
to see…
Brittle
Birthed in anguish
the love season gone sour
a smooth transition to a troubled end
the pot of gold
abandoned by the rainbow.
The cauldron of unbreakable resolve
sculpted into a ceramic life
made fragile
only able to find peace
as broken shards, glittering once again.
The hammer apologizes,
“I’m not usually involved,”
We answer in fractured colors,
“do you think in words?”
silence on a blank page.
They keep their thoughts to themselves.
Cold Problems
The floors here are disastrous
tornado wreckage
tidal waves retreated
leaving indiscernible trauma
old lives told like nightmares
with baubles and fabric.
Wires could pass as wigs
regurgitated spaghetti
A discarded blue dress
may as well be buried tile
sequins and seaweed
a three-day old corpse;
any of those things.
Three days?
has it only been that long?
Please
Tell me
what I’ve done means something
I’ve still got time
it will get better
Tell me
the weather outside is nice
love is enough
the worst is behind us
Tell me
those I love won’t ever feel like this
their futures are bright and limitless
I’ll die before I see their end
Tell me
anything that will keep me going
that you mean it
to trust you
make it sound genuine.
Grow Gray With Me 