Our lives, so filled with stone
built by honor ridden gentle souls
but still on sand
and who'll atone?
ever sinking, always reeking of a history with no mystery.
From where we've come, we're bound to grow
yet we've come home with no gifts for a king with no throne.
And who'll atone?
For a smile like reaching,
a grip like teaching
the sad way the wind learned its name;
blowing down the tree that said it.
and who'll atone?
For the end of the echo that gives sound sight.
when you remember you are forgetting, drink deep of the stillness
and wash your mist away.
and you'll atone.
Friday, September 1, 2017
Living proof (high again)
here I sit, high again.
Letting time float by again.
Saying "this is the last one" and when
did it ever begin?
When did I let the cement pour in?
How did I let it take hold? with what does it fill my mold and why under the sky is there no will that can go boldly where no mind has flown?
No kisses blown in glass could match the shatter of the match that sparks the fire in the chest that seems to beat for nothing less than the best of my being.
Yet for fear of seeing, for fear of becoming fully empowered, i blur my vision.
Is that a field or single flowers?
Is it real or Babyl's towers?
Is this life nothing but a shower in our day to day ritual?
Are even my friends habitual?
If I exposed my truest mouth would their love remain continual?
I see nothing spiritual in a cave on a mountain.
alone and enlightened.
friends only with the fountain of youth.
Without draining my veins of their truth, I'd like to grow branches, I'd like to grow roots!
I'd like to make floors where I once thought were roofs!
I'm done with dead evidence,
Make me living proof!
Letting time float by again.
Saying "this is the last one" and when
did it ever begin?
When did I let the cement pour in?
How did I let it take hold? with what does it fill my mold and why under the sky is there no will that can go boldly where no mind has flown?
No kisses blown in glass could match the shatter of the match that sparks the fire in the chest that seems to beat for nothing less than the best of my being.
Yet for fear of seeing, for fear of becoming fully empowered, i blur my vision.
Is that a field or single flowers?
Is it real or Babyl's towers?
Is this life nothing but a shower in our day to day ritual?
Are even my friends habitual?
If I exposed my truest mouth would their love remain continual?
I see nothing spiritual in a cave on a mountain.
alone and enlightened.
friends only with the fountain of youth.
Without draining my veins of their truth, I'd like to grow branches, I'd like to grow roots!
I'd like to make floors where I once thought were roofs!
I'm done with dead evidence,
Make me living proof!
Change
Change?
Change!
Who fear change?
You fear change?
not my name and its not your game I know!
Into the stream and beyond the dream we're just going with the flow.
See it only takes two pence to pay the rent and still make some cents of it all
I'll be the last one still standing cuz I'm the last one afraid to fall
down
down
to the ground spin around and start to dig.
it's a lot less easy to greet yourself than it is to take a swig but
STOP.
Drop it and roll with the punches.
I'd like to transport to a time before mommy made packed lunches and blew kisses through kitchen windows.
To a moment, my dear, to make it clear that this is the crescendo!
All of eternity has led into this flow!
yet where did it go?
The peak to this valley?
The mind can remember the mountaintop so it tries to ditch this sudden drop and live in its own reality.
Of what ifs? of shoulds, of shoudln't be's and soon it has taken the reigns from me and steered me to places no eye can see and damnit all!
this isn't me.
So I'll puff it up and try to hide, and toss one back and deep inside
escape
escape
escaping this present moment.
*Please hold for the next available brainwave.
When did this entity become this brain's slave!?
What did I allow to enter me?
What is it that appears to be behind the eyes and between the ears of the body which simply steers it?
And why does it fear the real and near while longing for the far and distant?
Its like:
here it comes!
There it is!
There it goes i just missed it.
Change!
Who fear change?
You fear change?
not my name and its not your game I know!
Into the stream and beyond the dream we're just going with the flow.
See it only takes two pence to pay the rent and still make some cents of it all
I'll be the last one still standing cuz I'm the last one afraid to fall
down
down
to the ground spin around and start to dig.
it's a lot less easy to greet yourself than it is to take a swig but
STOP.
Drop it and roll with the punches.
I'd like to transport to a time before mommy made packed lunches and blew kisses through kitchen windows.
To a moment, my dear, to make it clear that this is the crescendo!
All of eternity has led into this flow!
yet where did it go?
The peak to this valley?
The mind can remember the mountaintop so it tries to ditch this sudden drop and live in its own reality.
Of what ifs? of shoulds, of shoudln't be's and soon it has taken the reigns from me and steered me to places no eye can see and damnit all!
this isn't me.
So I'll puff it up and try to hide, and toss one back and deep inside
escape
escape
escaping this present moment.
*Please hold for the next available brainwave.
When did this entity become this brain's slave!?
What did I allow to enter me?
What is it that appears to be behind the eyes and between the ears of the body which simply steers it?
And why does it fear the real and near while longing for the far and distant?
Its like:
here it comes!
There it is!
There it goes i just missed it.
Cena
I spoke with Cena today. Though that is not her real name.
her real name is the sunshine and the moon.
She spoke of the war, of the swelling house she and 40 other unwilling inhabitants shared. Body to body and wall to wall they were lined up, sized up, categorized and stripped.
Reduced to a number, typed on a card and filed away to be forgotten.
A hollowed out friend said through empty eyes, " all they want is everything. They will prod your hide and brand you like a sow, but keep your name, somehow. Give them anything but that. tell them you are Singat! yes, a girl from the jungle"
And that she did. Yet no sooner had she hid then did let her light slip, and one officer was hip to her game and accent.
"Get in my office and tell me exactly who you are!"
Red faced and red handed, young Cena was dragged to a cold steel room by the tune of her racing heart.
And she sat and she said.
With eyes like the moon of a brisk winter's night, with her hair as black as the pavement she would be buried under, with her open hands on the cold, chipped desk, she sat and she said.
Under armed escorts, above the fighting and beyond the smoking city. She sat and she said.
As she said, she thought of every missed opportunity, every lost brother and the charred remains of every dead mother.
Every minute spent powerless watching silhouettes strike silhouettes.
every lead-headed friend,
every fear and regret coursed through her unfed bones.
She cried out for release, giving it all back to these thieves.
With one final heave her tired soul screamed
MY NAME IS CENA!
though that is not her name.
her real name is the sunshine and the moon.
her real name is the sunshine and the moon.
She spoke of the war, of the swelling house she and 40 other unwilling inhabitants shared. Body to body and wall to wall they were lined up, sized up, categorized and stripped.
Reduced to a number, typed on a card and filed away to be forgotten.
A hollowed out friend said through empty eyes, " all they want is everything. They will prod your hide and brand you like a sow, but keep your name, somehow. Give them anything but that. tell them you are Singat! yes, a girl from the jungle"
And that she did. Yet no sooner had she hid then did let her light slip, and one officer was hip to her game and accent.
"Get in my office and tell me exactly who you are!"
Red faced and red handed, young Cena was dragged to a cold steel room by the tune of her racing heart.
And she sat and she said.
With eyes like the moon of a brisk winter's night, with her hair as black as the pavement she would be buried under, with her open hands on the cold, chipped desk, she sat and she said.
Under armed escorts, above the fighting and beyond the smoking city. She sat and she said.
As she said, she thought of every missed opportunity, every lost brother and the charred remains of every dead mother.
Every minute spent powerless watching silhouettes strike silhouettes.
every lead-headed friend,
every fear and regret coursed through her unfed bones.
She cried out for release, giving it all back to these thieves.
With one final heave her tired soul screamed
MY NAME IS CENA!
though that is not her name.
her real name is the sunshine and the moon.
been becoming
i have been the meanest
i have been too compliant
i have been a genius
and a far sighted giant.
A drop in the bucket.
i have been a hammer and rusty nail
a deck in the doldrums and a ship in full sail.
author by night and beggar by day.
tired musician and a song overplayed.
Doctor to some, jester to most.
i have been a student, teacher, and bar drunken host.
characters on a page,a letter never sent.
A ravenous lion lying by a sheep with nothing to repent.
i have been a gluttonous ascetic.
A yolk in its shell and a blind man threatening hell through a cloud of obscenities.
the amusing amenities and tried and true home remedies that soothe you, move in and through you.
i have been my own chains
My weights, measures, gains, fates.
Hope and despair.
I've been the exact point where they meet.
the eternal click of a foot in the street.
I have been a trillion grains of sand,
A broad ideal held in one hand.
the monogamist's plight, the feral fox fitted with a fast flight or fight for your right!
To be
i have been he,
alone in the sea of thoughtless decrees.
Plaques and decrees cant hide shaking knees knocked down to the valley floor beyond small men and their friends who've long since cut off their hair and connection
-i've been the quick interjection- a minor digression and some loaded protection for well worth pleasant affection i've been the present erection in the hands and glands of grandstands of fans over a burger comemrcial - oh.
Too controversial, this is fun for the family!
And now what a calamity i've made of this end.
i've been the bend of the back cover, the grad-lover, the bad brother, the knight and fallen rook.
i've been the end of the rhyme and the last word that it took.
i have been too compliant
i have been a genius
and a far sighted giant.
A drop in the bucket.
i have been a hammer and rusty nail
a deck in the doldrums and a ship in full sail.
author by night and beggar by day.
tired musician and a song overplayed.
Doctor to some, jester to most.
i have been a student, teacher, and bar drunken host.
characters on a page,a letter never sent.
A ravenous lion lying by a sheep with nothing to repent.
i have been a gluttonous ascetic.
A yolk in its shell and a blind man threatening hell through a cloud of obscenities.
the amusing amenities and tried and true home remedies that soothe you, move in and through you.
i have been my own chains
My weights, measures, gains, fates.
Hope and despair.
I've been the exact point where they meet.
the eternal click of a foot in the street.
I have been a trillion grains of sand,
A broad ideal held in one hand.
the monogamist's plight, the feral fox fitted with a fast flight or fight for your right!
To be
i have been he,
alone in the sea of thoughtless decrees.
Plaques and decrees cant hide shaking knees knocked down to the valley floor beyond small men and their friends who've long since cut off their hair and connection
-i've been the quick interjection- a minor digression and some loaded protection for well worth pleasant affection i've been the present erection in the hands and glands of grandstands of fans over a burger comemrcial - oh.
Too controversial, this is fun for the family!
And now what a calamity i've made of this end.
i've been the bend of the back cover, the grad-lover, the bad brother, the knight and fallen rook.
i've been the end of the rhyme and the last word that it took.
Cattle
Where do you go?
To a wolf's apartment or a sheep's department store?
where is the more hiding in you?
as I aim to push on through
riding rails, unfurling sails to let the wind get to you.
any shiver from a frozen wind, any quiver with an arrow's kin. You're the one who sees with eyes and feels without heart
isn't that a start?
with a locked heart and tied laces.
Covered in soot from climbing down chimneys and drowned in proposals of squeezing through garbage disposals to sneak a glimpse of the fire I let to give away.
Now I just get the spins to forget the grins and regrets of not dancing with the pine. This love like wine needs time to breathe out.
Yet the danger of seeing you turn to a stranger
is worth a hundred goodbyes.
To a wolf's apartment or a sheep's department store?
where is the more hiding in you?
as I aim to push on through
riding rails, unfurling sails to let the wind get to you.
any shiver from a frozen wind, any quiver with an arrow's kin. You're the one who sees with eyes and feels without heart
isn't that a start?
with a locked heart and tied laces.
Covered in soot from climbing down chimneys and drowned in proposals of squeezing through garbage disposals to sneak a glimpse of the fire I let to give away.
Now I just get the spins to forget the grins and regrets of not dancing with the pine. This love like wine needs time to breathe out.
Yet the danger of seeing you turn to a stranger
is worth a hundred goodbyes.
Find me
In the sounds of your fingers rubbing together, I am there.
In the heat of a heart's introduction, I am the stare.
In the first bite of buttered toast, I am the crunch.
In the angst of a first love's kiss, I am the after climax bliss in the drunkenness of breath at the top of a mountain look
for me
In the last eagle's caw, in the lion's gaping maw, if you've eyes to see.
See me.
In the dregs of last night's beer
in the first breath of the morning clear I am there.
stretching in the first light of the sun.
In the eyes of your unrequited love, I am the tear
in the space between the notes of a symphony.
Look for me.
In the dots between the elevens on the clock, in between the heavens and the flock I reside.
nonexistent, yet pulling the tide, I reside.
Between up and down standing still and spinning round in the air and on the ground
I reside.
Find me.
In the heat of a heart's introduction, I am the stare.
In the first bite of buttered toast, I am the crunch.
In the angst of a first love's kiss, I am the after climax bliss in the drunkenness of breath at the top of a mountain look
for me
In the last eagle's caw, in the lion's gaping maw, if you've eyes to see.
See me.
In the dregs of last night's beer
in the first breath of the morning clear I am there.
stretching in the first light of the sun.
In the eyes of your unrequited love, I am the tear
in the space between the notes of a symphony.
Look for me.
In the dots between the elevens on the clock, in between the heavens and the flock I reside.
nonexistent, yet pulling the tide, I reside.
Between up and down standing still and spinning round in the air and on the ground
I reside.
Find me.
Preydator
I can see through the predators eyes quite easily, though I work to keep this sheep's clothing as tight as possible.
I walk upright, I keep my hair from standing on end. I force these fangs behind my lips and swallow my saliva as a a scent from faraway sent hits me.
I don't let my pupils dilate. I still my heart, put ice in my veins, slow this ever-quickening gait.
I wrap my tail around my waist and keep my growl to a whisper.
I haven't tasted blood in a decade.
I even stopped digging holes and started keeping the fleas at bay.
But alone? I tear my clothes, let loose my fur, stretch my toes, give a gaping yawn. My nails click on the tile, my growl fills the hall.
Sometimes I'll wait until dark, clamber up the stairs and risk a howl at the moon.
Never a response.
I walk upright, I keep my hair from standing on end. I force these fangs behind my lips and swallow my saliva as a a scent from faraway sent hits me.
I don't let my pupils dilate. I still my heart, put ice in my veins, slow this ever-quickening gait.
I wrap my tail around my waist and keep my growl to a whisper.
I haven't tasted blood in a decade.
I even stopped digging holes and started keeping the fleas at bay.
But alone? I tear my clothes, let loose my fur, stretch my toes, give a gaping yawn. My nails click on the tile, my growl fills the hall.
Sometimes I'll wait until dark, clamber up the stairs and risk a howl at the moon.
Never a response.
Slow fears
Every beard i ever grew to hind behind was just a showy way to let my mind stay childish.
I'd shave them all again to leave myself exposed to no one who is paying attention.
The story of my life will be left on read,
and why wouldn't it?
I've done so little with it that who is to blame? Just another face to be forgotten.
Yet is somehow the biggest fear. That i will become insignificant.
Forgotten.
and why wouldn't i?
I'd shave them all again to leave myself exposed to no one who is paying attention.
The story of my life will be left on read,
and why wouldn't it?
I've done so little with it that who is to blame? Just another face to be forgotten.
Yet is somehow the biggest fear. That i will become insignificant.
Forgotten.
and why wouldn't i?
Left Right Left
When you're young, and someone wants to "get" you,
they come up from behind, tap you on the right shoulder, and hide behind the
left one....you turn right. Got you. After so many repetitions of this
game, what happens?
You learn to expect it.
Someone taps you and
you look to the opposite shoulder. Not this time, pal., I know your game.
So
when a socially controversial topic comes up in the forefront of our collective
consciousness, a bell is rung in my brain. "Look to the opposite shoulder-
is this more of the same?
More of the divide and conquer paradigm, seeking another way
to calculate, quantify, and quarantine our minds?
Were we too close to the edge of unity? Maybe we saw the
forest from the trees, maybe our toes tasted the water in the breeze, maybe our
eyes saw through the disguise of our slice of the pie for a split second too
long.
Maybe the ratings were gone, maybe the bottom line bottomed
out, maybe the margins for profit were marginalized in our brains, maybe we cared
less for more of the same.
Maybe the t.v. was off for too long, maybe the drive thru
line was too short, maybe we even talked a little too little about sports.
Tomorrow was coming too slow, yesterday was forgotten too fast.
Maybe we were too rapidly inching towards the very presently
passed.
Maybe we were too sober, so we legalized being stoned. Or
maybe we saw safety in numbers, so it's a shame to be alone, we want to stay young forever so
we criminalize full grown and mind blown
and all known as a sign of weakness.
Meekless features of the preachers facin bleachers teachin
teachers how to teach us about jeezus when all you wanna hold is deez nutz and
watch D's bust on T's and trust that's a sign of the times, when your taught
more how to feel guilty than who taught you that crime, like a pre-teen with a
rolex, who bought you that time? If i put a ladder under you who taught you to
climb?
I'm not tryin to drop
dimes but you dont squeeze limes if you want lemonade, ice aint water at 100
centigrade and you dont ask questions until all your dues are paid, you keep em
guessin until they cant see the masquerade, and you dissuade the renegade by
handing him a hand grenade, pull the pin and watch him fade away.
Make your crime bright as day and then keep saying that bad
things are done in the dark.
No one notices a lightbulb when their searchin for sparks,
or sees electrons when their lookin for quarks, the only dog noticed is the one
who barks at the wind for howlin first, so the man who stands proudest is cut
short as conceded. Little do we see that confidence is so needed that our
fields, if left unseeded, will yield only the idea that we can be defeated and
deleted should we dare stand together, and arm in arm decide whether the charms
of harming brothers has lost it's shimmer. Like a chain of sparks that would
make lightning shiver, in reality, we are no dimmer.
So when it calls you by name, separate and criticized and
more of the same. Look to the opposite shoulder. "not this time, pal I know your
game"
10 PST
A call, unanswered.
15 again. Not the starry eyed
lightness, but the pit falling
why?
never wondered I’d be
back here
why?
The same pattern, she is.
And I so hard to make myself stand in place of the mask I
used to wear. Here, after all my hairs have grown, she, the same.
Pathetic, my expectations.
And yet in a way I should have expected more.
Her crawling back to find just another reason to stay
subdued. Under his sheets to feel loved.
It reminds me of everything I don’t want to see.
it reminds me of me.
Watching messages left on read. Watching calls never
answered and words never said.
I’ll be done. For five minutes.
Until she picks up again with some lame excuse. How it wasn’t
him with a noose around her neck it was just lack of sleep, it was just some
reason to forget.
A fish who has known only muddy water would choke in the
sea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)