Category: Poems

I broke through the crowd,
Those beautiful clouds,
With rain on my face,
With flame in my hand,
And a taste to the air,
Of a rousing new land,
Thus I leave my old skin,
Grow wings all divine,
It’s shade is for you,
But the sunshine is mine.

I know not how far I have come,
In hinterland,
Of memorized paths,
As strolling down,
This futile maze of mirrors,
I have lost myself, now and forever,
In recurring steps of reflection

You are to me,
A stolen relic,
Old poster; of faded features.
I remember when you were,
New and nubile,
Tempera under glass,
Spruce lime upon blue lily,
Colors darkening in light, lightening in dark,
Purposeful magic;
Your art.Until, I held you under the rain,
One day.
Thunderstorm, cotton sun,
All live things, shades of dead grey,
Black grass, burnt smell,
Shapes floating away as thoughts,
Sharp lines; blur,
Those melting faces, a dance of emotion,
All under the rain.Clouds above, clouds below,
As slanting shadows, as aged snow,
This time, that time; your
Genius of holding,
A dim moment; potted plant,
Is now, and forever, sown,
In me, in them,
A rainforest of a single kind,
Your kind.In us, you; faulted pioneer,
Shall find,
The fruits of your labor.

O seldom seen soul,
You wrong me with your plight,
You wound me with your fear,
I shall be thy vessel no more,
No longer shall I hold,
Your sightless scent, in my being,
And be called names I cannot defy,
And be reminded of deeds I cannot define.
You, ever elusive,
Precursor of all illusions,
Begone, to the shell; of oblivious wisdom,
Float upon the tumult of torn times,
You are not needed,
To guide me upon this journey.
O Faltering star; to hold you would be a sin,
To leave you, a miracle,
And I choose that improbable, the impossible,
Oasis of existence,
I choose the eternal,
Without quests for questions,
Without angst for answers,
Quite breathes,
Under deep oceans.

Down into the sudden pitfalls,
We greet misery with a closed fist,
Holding cold bones; shriveled under the weight,
Of all ungainly, spectral possessions,
Reeking of human desire.

There, knee deep in scalding sand,
We shed our veils, walls, steel traps and anchors,
Faithless forevermore,
Deserters of compassion and bereavement,
We the hopeless mirage to pilgrims.

Deep in the green, pure bosom of home,
Bold words carved upon faceless granite,
Feel true to touch, and pass through,
Into the poetic heresy of past horrors,
Repeating with undone mind,
Borrowed memories of fallen men.

And the fading voices; helpless and haunting,
Herald no ounce of kindness,
From the eroding masses,
With their blind eyes and deaf ears,
Set on the far side, at the golden glories of conquests and castles,
Eternal empires,
Honeyed verses of mist born deeds, filtered through the lens of blood and bravery.

But the tragedy lies not in this unmaking,
Of you and me and all the mute feet around;
It hovers in the decision, of sending again,
Clueless clear eyes, into the hoary depths,
With spades and shovels,
And a pair of wet kiss,
To last a lifetime.

Someday,
When I find the night’s mystery,
Too purple for my taste,
I seek with fingers; melancholy,
The flesh of your waist,
And when you; awake at the touch,
Close the arc of our motion,
Tune into a single taut line,
Of steel and water; tying together
In familiar pleasure,
Our breathes into storm,
I know your smile shall shield me tommorow,
When I am no longer oozing in your arms;
A hair’s breadth from life,
But away, miles into the lives and lights,
Of strangers under street lamp,
Peeling away the veneer of my heart,
To hold yours.

They say I have a name,
That cannot be the name of a man,
But belongs to the vacant space,
Of time dissolved into another time.
Which makes me wonder,
Had I been born in another era,
Would I be just nameless as I,
Or hold the pleasure of echoing,
As a treble in another’s mind.

Alas,
Long ahead in this great molasses of men,
There shall be no more need of names,
To be any different than salt or soil,
Fundamentals are being torn apart,
And soon shall the truth will rise,
I too am a pawned out god,
I paint the ships that sink the skies.

I see her now,
Through the brows and burrows of desire,
Satin skin; light melted and run through mill,
Spilled hair, like shadow,
Ruby on her lips.
She passes, she passes, untouched,
She passes,
Fairytale on feet.

And I draw her,
With crushed flowers and burnt timber,
Edging towards augury,
About closed windows, barred rooms,
Torn curtains and stripped carpets,
Carved words, and wheeling horizons,
Must love make all things difficult?

I paint the ships that sink the skies,
Sails stretched into stillness,
Like an upturned tide,
To dive deep in the dreary desert,
Which howls upon my life’s shore;
Emasculated vision, of all lost
And never found.

I wait for her upon this journey,
But her muzzled eyes, with their opaque irises,
Are shut to the world,
To me,
So I drop the anchors, right by her feet,
Those naked, oyster, ivory feet,
And glide out to meet the nothingness,
Of which I have heard nothing, nothing at all.

Far from there, the moments seem staged,
Life just a staggered step, towards something greater,
This oblique ocean of ours,
A rolling sphere,
Hurled by a child, from corner to corner,
Rolling, like a flat disk of light.

Years hence pass, years since are passing,
Days diluted, are strained over and over,
Till clarity confirms,
The presence of pinnacle,
In all beings of sentience,
Like you, like me,
Like I and like she.

Oh She, yes, she of the ruby lips,
Have folded, now, under the weight of the world,
Winter took her eyes,
Summer her ears,
The autumn ripened the cast of her mirror,
And spring abandoned her altogether,
But yet, and yet,
Even after all the divine musings,
After all the humane faulting,
I see her as I saw her,
From under the brows and burrows of desire,
Far through the falling age of past,
I see her and I take her,
With me to another era
Of different time,
Where I have a name, and she an identity,
And we both, the same similar quote,
To tame our tombstones.

In an old dusty bar,
The General grabbed a drink,
He smelled of coal and tar,
And sipped as if to think,
He had a poker face,
And a stiff upper lip,
Wore a uniform stripped of grace,
And his cane was missing it’s tip.

The barman thought it odd,
For the man to be alone,
He should be feeling like God,
Now that the fort was blown,
So he took a dirty cloth,
And a bottle up from shelf,
Brought them all to him both,
For the man to help himself.

The General nodded his thanks,
But the barman stayed to ask,
Where are your other ranks,
Have you sent them on a task?
The man looked at him,
A tear took his eye,
Then the General spoke the truth,
Even though he preferred the lie.

There are sins I am guilty for,
That is why I weep,
We have won the world it’s war,
But my men are all asleep.

They say I speak a thousand things
When I have spoken none
And that is all I have to say about it.

I see the stars,
I see the color blind world,
I see the fallen men, and the rising one,
And I know if I am, as I am to be,
I have to close my eyes,
I have to cease to see,
Like all my fellow birds around me,
Wasting away in the newfound sun,
Twisting tales, for listeners fun,
I have seen the ocean rest a bit,
I have seen the shadows straightening to sit,
For finally it all comes down to this,
You must aim to hit and not to miss,
Life’s a pleasure, pleasure to take away,
Even if your day is not today,
Because you ain’t the only, only one,
Tasting the barrel of the loaded gun,
And feeling alive against that metal taste,
Like till now life’s been just a waste,
Pull the trigger, trigger and let it blow,
At least you will somehow someway know,
That your hand wasn’t banded tight,
You did what you did, for you thought it right,
So come my friend, come sit beside,
Let us wash off our sins, in the neighbors tide,
And be all merry and sing again,
Of fallen kingdoms and ghosts of men.