“Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.”
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
Blue Jay’s Song
With twilights’ light I think of you
How your view is morning dew.
If every star would lead me home
I’d count them all and upon them roam
To skip, to see, to love, to breathe.
Shackled hearts are never free
If I were to die and lie right here,
I’d die some more to have you near.
Great Adventure
Oh death, I decry
Is an enemy of yours, not mine
We talk and list and laugh and whine
They tell me of greater men they’ve claim
I tell them of faces and of names.
They hold my hand I do the same
Oh death, I decry
Kin, common and kissed am I.
Ghost
Flesh and marrow, blood and bone
Home is where I roam.
Rested head in the devil's bed,
If I had breath I would atone.
The Harkening
There is a soldier in me:
One eager for orders and falling in line.
There is a warrior in me:
One ready to reprieve the gods and die learning little.
There is a quiet in me:
Along a shore, ink stained fingers draw like tides.
There is a lover in me:
Where whispered words at sunset are never forgot.
There is a patron in me:
Who shows how best to pick a skipping stone.
There is a sadness in me:
Where recollection grows and binds like long gone ivy.
There is a softness in me:
Where wind dries tears and beauty beats heart.
There is another in me:
Lost in my eyes and tangled in lies I tell myself.
When I look into a mirror, I wonder who wonders about I?
Loss
I have not reason nor a phrase
To describe the burden that is today.
Be it fate or happenstance,
The world feels vague and clad in chance.
Still
We are all just passing stars.
Ones lost at sea are never far.
I choose to wake, I choose to cry.
no matter what, the reason why.
I choose myself, what heals me best,
I choose forgiveness at own behest.
When I choose a choice no more,
A soul has settled amongst the shore.
Mother’s Poem
The world I see has changed
it’s changing all the time,
Now it holds you closer.
I no longer call you mine
You became your bedside flowers
They too, now wilt and thin
But we know their future.
That they begin again.
They’ll take you on their petals
lift you atop the wind.
Now you’ll be all things.
I share you with the breeze
I see your face along my walk
You're hidden in the trees
I hear that lovely whistle
Singing songs amongst the leaves
In a way, we’re closer now.
You’re never far from me
all around and through my heart
and in my memories.
Which too are different
Redefined and Rearranged
like summers dew, now frost, turned to snow
Pristine along the plain.
The seasons do their dance with you
The seasons hold no pain.
They’ll share your warmth,
I’ll share your light and carry on your flame
I’ll listen to the whispers
The world still calls your name.
The world I see has changed
it’s changing all the time,
The beauty is, you're in every inch
For you’ll always be in mine.
Reflection on Wounds
Pain isn’t one of the answers for what life is about.
But it’s part of the equation that makes the whole
Hurt never hurdles you forward. Only healing does so.
Hurt stops you in your tracks, can crumble and break you.
It leaves stars in your eyes, stealing them from the night sky.
Widdles your dream thin, or ushers them away beyond that horizon
Where there they stay until you bandage a beaten nose and press on.
It’s not a beautiful act but a noble one.
Shuffling feet forward contributes to the Chase.
Tumble
I lost my head and there it fell.
Fell, and fell down the trestled well
That sprouted ivy and berry tall
And caught my hair and cradled all.
It grew new eyes, cherry red,
With pitted pupils center stead.
Replaced my tongue, tasted sweet
Grew the body to my feet.
Coiled there and sprouted wide
Leaf filled limbs leapt astride
It danced all day, my new form
Made in spite and natures scorn
Until the rain and raven came.
Then it learned the plucking pain
It danced again again again.
Toothpaste
We lumber along
In the guts of a great mechanical snake
Tumble and rumble of brakes
That shocks and shakes
Scrapes and whines and rakes our minds
Keeping us awake, it steals our time.
Whisper of You
With just a caress, I know where I stand
Between right and wrong, is naught,
I must confess. If I were to be your man.
If you were to hold me close, i’d shepard us away
Where worlds trickle by unheard.
Entwined is our toast. To the coming of the day.
I fear
Things hidden in the dead of night
In mid-day sun become far less bright.
Vile Sea
The crashing shoals
And bubbling froth
Sing a song of sailors lost.
Demons are not as damned,
as seaweed locked, corral tossed,
drowning man
Wicked
Dashed and devil, demon and damned
I think you are fire made into man
I saw your dreams in your twisting nights
You may not recall the empty sights.
Roaddogs
Road dogs under sideways trees
The breeze there behind
sweat beading on their neck
Cooling the mind
The sun does not linger
It comes and it goes
The snow it does melt
To forget of it’s glow
They walk down the highways
Ride a beast that’s too loud
Staying in corners
Never too proud
Watching and waiting
Eager to move on
A toast to the road dogs
To them and their song
Zombie
There is a man atop a tower
Robed in pewter, witching hour
Waits and wails, clad in power
Clutches gifts poisoned sour.
Has a darkling bird that minds.
It watches silent, spies the times.
Reckons scheming poised for signs
Wove the robe with whines and binds.
In the trapping world he makes
The man is caged, the bird is fate.
Little Devices
I don’t sleep a lot.
I just stare at the ceiling fan above
And wonder how when it spins, it still collects so much dust?
I think we could be the same.
All around there are gadgets and gizmos that spin with their breaking down motors and wiring too hot. They do not wonder if they are working towards their end. They just are and dandy becasue of it.
I envy how good they are at simple tasks, made for it.
A beauty to them and their half lives,
as they contribute to the whole, doing one job and doing it well.
What are we good for?
A mishmash of half truths and poor paintings of perceptions.
How noble to be a little thing
To spin and spin and spin and collect dust till pores are gutters and then spin no more. Then all would say “what happened to the breeze?”
Still Against Time
Building up against time
We don’t want to see the other side
Secretely all, we may hope for the fall
I died but put another brick in the wall.