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

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

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

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

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

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

shame and remorse - four innocents lost

I want it out of my head
I want it done with my life
I want it over and done with
I want it finished influencing me

Nine with a need to discover
Seven the guard above covers
Five in blissful attendance upon her
Four an annoyance why must he be here

Two for my own at her pleasure
One mystery to unfold at my leisure
Oh but Four has gone and befouled her
Repulsive a longed for and beautiful treasure

So back to the start again groping
What was it for which I was hoping
A mere child without tools for coping
Alone with three other souls all unknowing

Forty years later and the denial
From others who'd failed this trial
For they in their innocence fading away
Found comfort in letting go of any such day

As might lead to their failure being forced into the open

Where she on her own had already let go
Of the other who couldn't be told since his rage
Uncontrolled would betray them all and destroy them
Denying their chance to recover their sweetly lost full potential

Forty years on and still holding
Candles unlit and shadows unfolding
Peace nearly here my pace finally slowing
As griefs piled high are the proof of unknowing

Innocence lost is not lost for all time
Tragedies' costs carry interest that's fine
For the truth is always available to the mind
Which opens itself fully in hope of some sublime

Ascendancy into the knowing
Life free again to grow how it may
No remorse shame or fear of not knowing
No remorse shame or fear of not knowing

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

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.

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.