Familiar streets look new tonight
the day drowning in the west
a thin layer of moonlight opposed
holding everything down
heavy
The self – a body of whispers
bound in loose threads of thought
woven around tooled cotton
emptiness made a fool,
a caricature of substance
like a corpse on strings
dripping with the life inside
desperate for an end
or at least something to catch what is left.
The pilot light defies the dark
a flickering of potential
this is every Tuesday now
What was at once time cycled by the moon
then every few weeks
has become common place somehow
Though the basement is an abandoned place
left to wires, pipes and tubes
of all the hidden movements in the house
the quiet void is the most intrusive.
Boldly embrace the moment,
Essentially there is nothing else.
Somber minds will tell us of the future
Transcribing it as a burden we must carry.
Reminiscent orators will speak of the past
As an obstacle to avoid or embrace, depending.
Not many will speak for the present
Guarded against its volatile nature,
Eager to be anywhere else.
They say [no words could describe] the world beneath
spawning [this terror I feel] deep within me
corrupting [where the soul abides] into blaspheme
the dark heart [tearing through the walls] with savage teeth
rips through me [to find what’s inside] to excise it
let feral things see [and devour it all] before my eyes
consuming me [until all that is left] are my cries,
yet even that sound [is a hollow call] I can’t commit.
My remains are sent [out to the darkness] to retire
like a bat [searching for an echo] in the vacuum of space
if I could divine [some sound to harness] I’d leave this place
but all that’s left [in the loud silence] is my desire.
Outside [there is no response] I delve within
Where [the sound inside died] art was made
becoming a kiss [just past my lips] and falls on the heart
which once had thought [there’s no life outside] where it had been.
She was there
then suddenly she wasn’t
taking with her the very air.
She was gone
but my thoughts remained with her
I, the pale-less well ne’er drawn
She is dead
I too have died within her
as well the words never said
I was known
defined by the external
words not spoken but intoned
I was lost
words that were read absently
will the active mind exhaust
I am dead
I, a string tied inside her
found a severed broken thread
Together
set adrift in the abyss
ever lost to the nether.
Something has changed the sounds out here.
They phase out and then reappear
like vagabonds in the frontier.
Breath itself, a labored chore
an anchor pulled across the sea floor
not wanting to move anymore
though unable to interfere
Wayward eyes will find no relief
lost amongst the constant mischief
the world apt to abuse belief
real and absurd defined ‘unclear.’
The smell of the place reaches deep
like a fog over the throat that creeps
finding fetid remains to reap
the scent of one’s end always near.
You can feel the hostility
hidden like electricity,
tangible curiosity,
tamed only when engineered
Senses reel back from the attack
all becoming abstracts or black
flesh hacked away by well-aimed flack
the mind, a shattered chandelier.
Darkness then takes you by the hand
drags you out before that big band
desperate teeth pushing words through wasteland
“There is nothing for us to fear!”
a man to match,
two husbands for mother and me,
two pennies shined and spent,
irrelevancy captured in pastiche
be not my father, fleeting, fugacious,
a filament of generational morals
or rather something less gracious.
I burn for my sins, sitting on your pyre
was my death cathartic enough, my child?
did you really have to call me a liar?
I cried for my matrimony,
nineteen and a child already lost,
supposed residual bonding upon this acrimony
can you tell me,
what couldn’t I see?
Beneath those hands
that were once so quick to strike
you hide eyes that shed tears in the light
but remain quietly dry in the darkness.
the audience, with that sad soliloquy, is sedated
but I remain a victim resigned backstage
a witness to all this from an angle much less complicated.
as supporting cast, I played my part,
myself reduced so you could be elevated
though you “died” you lived on in my heart
for the life you were to me was all I had known
until finally those curtains began to close
and I recognized that I was grown.
How could you see, from up high on that stage,
anything that you didn’t want to be shown?
It waits for us in the forest
festering amongst the trees
the patient infection subdued;
an evil one seldom sees.
The oak and the pine sound anxious
ardent wind ignores their cries
wrapped around the best like ivy
searching us with ivory eyes.
We carved the beast from bone remains
rooted out from bloodied fields
tooled to honor those we slaughtered
resigned to stay safely sealed.
Time gifts the beast greater power
posturing it for the war
in which we had been the monsters
killing for land and much more.
Our victory in the battle
baneful for all that is good
gifted us unfounded wisdom
while our death waits in the woods.
Standing against the crowd like river rocks
gears whirring in a clock with hands outstretched,
static against motion,
his eyes are loud against deafening stock
herding towards boxes and locks that pay well
sapping their emotions.
The boy is alone swallowed by the swarm
a cold drop in warm water unnoticed
soon enough devoured
falling to the ground prone, beneath the storm
trying to conform, become safe like stone.
I left him there cowered.
I left part of me there as well
both of us settling into hell.
Where does the wind go
when we so oft look away
to find solace in stillness?
Perhaps to our dreams
to revive with nature’s breath
our hopes for brighter futures.
Grow Gray With Me 