Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

A Snowball's Chance

As were a pebble or a ball of ice

suspended on the precipice
the drop below would not suffice
to sway into or closer less
the wind would have Its way

As diving for its prey the raptor
so did our friend go forth
and though the wind, a careless captor,
thought nothing of his poor life's worth
fate and luck held sway

So early on the path was figured
and soon the slope did fall
and though it seemed at times configured
to hold him in its palm
the mountain had its say

Down yonder go thee! To the floor!
Down go thee all the way!
I shall hold back your fall no more
lest thou be content to stay
at rest upon my bosom.

So growing with the mountain's coat
of snow and leafy spoils
oft by hard rock was it smote
and slipped past as slicked by oils
of some savagery of nature

With each hard fall and sudden slam
his size did bulge and swelling
from pebble to a well fed ham
with gravity compelling
ever faster towards the bottom

Would think, perhaps, there would be times
when the path would clear for miles
yet though it seemed straight as these rhymes
did he crookedly down defiles
The trickster gods' own slalom

This is where I am now
This is where the story pauses
Halfway down the mountain, How?
With forced and sundry clauses.
My life begins to be mine.




Tuesday, February 22, 2011

am i am

i am far too far away from you

and you are closer than you know
than any other would care to come
to feel what is inside me
what calls me to be complete
without constraint of thought or fear

i am too far away from it
and yet it closes in
ever nearer to my head
to the holes in my heart
and my thoughts drifting
always back to it
the way of the world before tomorrow

i am too far gone from then
and still its hold upon me lingers
cloying as the muck of the swamp
to my clothes and skin and thoughts
avoidance is no option
and running in the sand a sham
an excuse to keep on breathing

i am so much closer now
to something I can believe is real
which is pulling me to its warmth
as if now were someone who could care
who would see me as I always have
in my head
in my dreams
in my fantasies of what might have been
had I lived a "normal" life

i am so much closer now
i hope i don't fall down too hard
i know how to rise
i don't know that i'll want to after this

or maybe I do
just maybe I still do

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

dawning brighter

I'm thinking on things I need to mend

old wounds I've kept open

developed skills which fail me now

passionate pleas which must always fall upon deaf ears

because they aren't aimed correctly

even though my accuracy is impeccable


I'm facing up to failures denied

belittled and bemused by my own apathy

have I fallen into disrepair and anguish

painful to behold and yet held up as mettle

it is emptiness embodied

it is loneliness entombed in light

the light which only shines forth dimly


I'm canceling my tickets to the ball

to the far flung reaches of imagination

where I've always known I'll never go

but, dreaming of it, have ignored the here and now

and passed on far too many small wonders

given up this chance or that

for some delusion held so dear

it drains my life of spirit


I'm putting out the weary fire

the flickering candle of despair

which has lit my way through life

for all these many years

though often I have dimmed its light

and hid the flame behind my back

as, knowing deep inside, I questioned its source

and begged myself to heed the truth

before the shadows swallowed me


whole

I am still

and forming

daily into more

of what I'm meant for


Wednesday, January 5, 2011

today

today is rough
I feel the panic seeping in
not like before
with the ways and means
I used to hide behind
underneath the netting
like covers pulled over a child's head
to keep away the bogeymen
from whom I run

today is slow
I wonder why it comes again
so like before
its creeping tendrils
telling me it's coming
I can't hide
don't bother, but I do
knowing nothing but the want
afraid that I won't run

today is long
it wanders like the crooked river
meanders to an end
nature's grades guiding to falls
just as she does for me
in infinite fractal branching
forging futures
fatalistic and magnanimous
where I might run

today is good
oh, I know it doesn't feel that way
not in these still desperate moments
not with the panic seeping
slowly out and away like the tides
away from the beach of solace
leaving behind the stench
of that from which, of course,
I cannot run

today I breathe
know that which I must clear away
with my own two hands
my back breaking
my head filling up
with aromas so inspiring
so despised by now
and desperate to be without them
do I run

today I would close down
except that I cry out
electronic silence the deepest sighs
soul all akimbo
liminal in some enchanted way
amassed of fortunes
under appreciated until recently
as panic began to wane
I glimpsed the place to run

today is good
tomorrow will be as well
and I will run no more
today is good

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

It Is Here

again I lie
it forces its way out through
my teeth

staring into
eyes of amber chocolate
beauty

so true this time
and again not everything
real

I am the wolf
who strives to be the white prince
of dreams

whose soft kisses
open her eyes to life worth
living

silly smile
locked in that way I can't help
feeling

these worn down fangs
promising everything She's
wanting

delivers us
into temptation's empty
belly

where both of us
wallow in our happiest
sorrow

it is here now
awakening to facts not
pleasant

reality
all of those sweet times brushed off
falling

onto my soul
where I will choose to believe
or won't

again I lie
wearing truth's better Sunday
clothing

still just rags
these grand imperial clothes
bare all

Thursday, December 9, 2010

baby don't call me buddy

evening fallen empty again
and so full of everything
that might not have been
would never have become this
wonderful, vagrant friend

kissing softly inside my head
when the sun has settled
behind the far side
shadowing me and my dear friend
to writhe in comforting emptiness

this sport is wild mad insane
and willfully indulged
where no one but the ghosts
of satisfactions never born
can cheer us on and wave their arms

occasionally I'll notice something
wrong it seems but sweet your song
brings me down again to trespass
upon the most natural of things
to lose myself where no one sings

and though outside my door
do people wander and endure
their own sweet nothings poured
out by their own most natural
of nature's whores begotten

they must be less than nothing
for my own is so intensely mine
and only wanting more each time
do I embrace it once again
to fall and swallow all your pain

fallow my mind is hardly so!
it simply seethes with cares and woe
the images my friend does bring
instill such fear and hope enticing
bleeding me out of my mind

but darkness always lifts again
too soon! where is my empty friend
without whom now my life begins
each sun's light rising into morning
another chance to move along
before my friend will find me once again

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Believer

I don't now need
to believe
as hard as I once so truly did
when I was all angst and invective
against the gods
and all their sundry
creators

Is it insensitive
to care far more
for your mortal coil
then for the spin which life
for you has propelled
some kind of order to
this madness

Essences frothing
foaming and devoting
countless little nothings
each of their own
beyond the pail
each with grasping
hands and minds
believing

Awareness settles in
at last I see
at least I see
something more than mere belief
erupting like a plume
of magma from a new land's
birthing cauldron

In salt and wet
unwholesome sweat
and benign accompaniment
of little things
which no one thinks about
lest we be rousted
from our sleeping

For now too long
I have thought about them
though there can never be
enough of thought
expressions of a mind
evolved in trees and
the floor of the world
wide and free and terrifying

Is dreaming still
the night's watchman
the guard upon whom
all lives depend
to waken them
when hyenas roam and salivate
for childrens' flesh and marrow

I believe it's so
but let me be the first
to say that I know not
what favors
mystical unknowns
might deign to bestow upon
our fair and foul
family of humanity
within the jungles
of our complex minds

So wherein lies
the tale teller's crux
that oh so many
believe his sorry tellings
on the screens
and waves of modernity
and soiled by sellings
of mere things to boost morale
to slaver for new needs
to be fulfilled

It's all in the enigma
it's three slight pounds
it's lobes too three
it's aloneness
in the darks of nights
intent on being
someone something gleaming
chrome and bright
which all might to believe in

A portion of our time
elapsed and lost and ruined
yet still alabaster
in pristine and innocent
unconsciousness
alone together
none as one except
in special circumstances

How is the end
to ever come
for ever and the new beginnings
the airs we breathe
and sighing leave behind
to those who
come after all unwilling
until each shall find
our own means to believe

And with believing
cold willing
or the passion of
the fireplace on plains of
ancient dusks' heartless landscapes
and god's
relentless
laughing

Believe believers
or failing that
buy your ways from darkness
it's only what we each are owed
for this life with which we're playing
whether by the rules
we're given to believe in
Or simply until our leaving

Monday, February 1, 2010

in the empty bottle

i'm not going to murder
this man that I love

but I know him like few others
no
like no other

and i loathe him
with all my heart

i am wounded and not afraid
to cry about it

like a little girl
forget the boy i've always been
never had a chance
to truly be

exalted in my pain
i am pathetic and deserve ...

far from in love and there
always there
and alone

in dreams and other blissful days
when manic i am

in reality abolished nightly
daily recriminations boil up

falling down the rabbit hole of
my poor me poor me poor me

empty
nothing left to pour

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

emo mojo rhyme

Somewhere in the middle
of nowhere, senseless
at the bottom of the top
or the top of the bottom,

Against a backdrop of two score
and three years of greyness
filled with spots of light and darkness
stars and holes;
Bright stars, pitch dark holes,

I would as soon press God into my service
as service such an ogre myself.
E'en as Lucifer, Prince of Lies though he Reign,
would cast away his chance for His love.

An be there Prologue
should beget such horrid honor?
All things have their precedents
in wishes and chance.

Would that I could explain
in Truth, with fictions left to day dreams,
then so might I understand
faults, unrepentant,
and return, at last, to Heaven.

Yet, when Passion is diminished
and the font of Hope turned dry,
some glamouries fetch me back
to sit upon the stones, in doubt.

Would that If would end;
that pity and its fuel, hope,
would leave off and send me no more rope,
hovering relentlessly.
The Morningstar sets free whom He saves.
-

Fucker... what a waste.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Two Haiku

My foot, tasting burned
Still I munch it. Ecstasy!
No rare occurrence

For a friend.

Sanity subsumed
True/False light envelopes me
Hopeless? Not as such

For me.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Wish I Was Here . .

. .



fasm push 'em
lost an' roll
crock-a-dill
dilly
over the pole
holp
nope
I can't
but would I
could I
nonsense
none of it
all, now,
run dry
"Pinklequickle", my ass...

Thursday, January 17, 2008

tumult


Rantamble? How 'bout strollin'...
'round about and
far too much lollin'
but that's alright
may be should be
which is oh! so frequently
how it's done
anyhow

along I came
and there I go
succeeding
failing
what's to know
that I can't grasp when
times do come
until it's done
damn! it's done

so now to truth
and sense it so
the wind inside
it swirls slow
as longer
shorter
fuller now
I am again
what once
was how

but all of that
is not to say
that things once done
have gone the way
of dreams and potions
taking lightly
sweetly sipped
no longer nightly

pain escapes
and eases me
into the past
the futures be
all of my time
though wasted still

or what
what will ...

Friday, November 30, 2007

acCid3nt 0f b1rt4

just this once
nevermore and only
unless because
because well
you know
what if I didn't

what if I didn't take that chance
and I was left
yet again
hanging in the wind
the cold
the emptiness of being
me
alone
as usual

and then again
I feel that I'll change
I don't
I don't have any reason
for that feeling
maybe it's just hope
that shit I won't abandon

even on the edge
so far away now
so far away



On Wikipedia, it goes like this:

"The artist is nothing without gift, but the gift is nothing without work." - Émile Zola
Either way, I'm still one lazy, unmotivated sumnabitch... Catch freakin' 22, eh.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

On the Ebb

Of a course and so it matters
and now so sorely so
that lost in shreds and ghostly tatters
disjointed ideas
ebb and flow of colors prime

Limping forward, pulling free
towing me along
a question, hard, once heard howling
screaming out
its same unanswered song

A darkness piercing brightly
in fullest emptiness
here, take this
what is left 'me
I did not seek its kiss

Through eyes ripped wide
and wrinkled shut
through purpose lost
a tuneless rut
In timbre, hue and what I feel
though ringing true
yet far from real

As all those
timeless
faceless
moist and empty dreams
I recognize in everything
the goal of all my schemes

Escape away 'til sunrise sets
reality's great weight
upon my neck
And opens up the gallows' door
falling away
the scrawl of Love's face
fallen away

Not yet
arise
get up
meat needs turning
bread is on the rise
the wine is fit to drink

Another sun and moon
have their stories to tell
their song still left to sing

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Saturday sans Sun

But it's only 6:30 in the AM, so that'll change soon enough.

Apocrypha

less absent than common sense
apocrypha on the lips
tips of tongues and spewing
regularly imbuing small lives
with larger self impressions

holding court in absentia
delayed gratification becomes anathema
when what one wants
is only never to be thought the other
apocrypha lends credence to one's claims

echoing elements of others' tallest tales
longing (though of course not showing it)
for the admiration of one's own
an acknowledgment that one is all alone
and still steadfast denial, rebuttal of the same

in subtle ironies missed too often
still plays, whole scenes, brief captions
formulating plans for local domination
of the world which is not everything
except for all that matters anyhow

apocrypha elucidates the simplest
clearest sign of life, la joie de vive
too powerful to bear aught but a wink
a nod
a shrug of the shoulders as the moment passes
eternal
ephemeral
esoteric and surreal but

all too common in our own and only world


Have a beauty day, eh.

Sunday, August 19, 2007

S & T o I

It's Just The Normal Noises In Here

i'm spiraling down

and outta control

up's comin' the ground

oops
missed
hit a hole


so farther I sink

and longer I fall

reach out
grab
a link
to try and forestall


these black dog days of august

Saturday, August 4, 2007

sin scan


i wish i had a mirror
a projector
a still life juxtaposer

not unreal
faked in electrons
drawn on ether

reality
shining forth
from within my head

when in rome
why don't the romans notice
its not important
anyway

it's just what I wish
what i want

but we've already established
that
that means nothing

at least not
so far

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Just sayin'

angular sensations
of ruby red pulsations
where love's gone dry

in over-rotten divets
of earthen sunken riv'lets

that once held hope


for sun to come and bathe one

but not in such a lingerin'

as that which seared the dream


only time

only freedom

only

only

only

everything


nothing comes of waiting

in void of fresher baiting

old hope peeks in


lost counting holding open

the class devolved not moping

for what can't be found


when blinding is the weather

of azure sky together

the blackest of the starless nights


only hope
only freedom
only

only

only

time to fade


to nothing

to see here

move along

move along



Well, maybe, maybe not, eh.

L8

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Theftage for the Sincerity of the Thought

starting over . . again

down
trundling
lazy as she goes

two turns on the
big wheel
hang it all

as the river flows
so dies
the dream long passed chance


and, believe it or not, that's a Good Thing.

Not been in much of a bloggin' mood of late. No worries though. Is just cuz I'm sucked into a book's universe. I'll be back after - or more likely during - the sadness of its ending.

L8!