Monday, April 29, 2013

the dream

Under the black flag
We listen.
 In the thunder of the early morning
The verses unfold
Deeply through the various layers of this
Psychic universe
I heard them
In a tongue so foreign
Beyond this realm, beyond these vanities
Striking a chord that
reverberated within
driving all this cheap thoughtless crap
retroactively into itself
as a mirror that cannot withhold
the deluge that inhabits  
all the spaces between us
the rising tide, the waxing and waning crescent
dictating all that this world was ever meant to be
slipping away into the minutia
that would later define an existence  


Saturday, April 27, 2013

i don't think you know

 between our two lives
there is also the life of
the cherry blossom

Where the mushrooms grow
on the thought of your voice
in the yearning hours of the morning
where I want nothing more than a taste
of your heart
in my ancient, dank parts where the rafters collapsed eons ago
I offer you the same freely
with no presupposition
in the way that I say “tiger”
I mean…
There was only ever you.

With every minute of life that slips away
The only thing killing me
Is the way our two lives unfold
Between us, dividing us,
this world quartering and refracting you from me
I cannot deny it; that lasting ache,
My yearning heart through so many dimensions
So many words -text messages –photos

of your life that I am not a part of
of my life that you are not a part of

sakura fade and rise and fall
upon an ocean of what I feel for you
in the depth of my water
there is a voice that cannot be heard
shrieking out into a world
asphyxiating under its own smog
the samara flutter into the darkness
in such an uncertain future
nothing astonishes
save for
how amazing I think you are

Friday, April 12, 2013

where angels shed their wings

Behind this screen
Beyond this imposing appeal
Something that makes its point
Something that is real

maybe making sense is overrated
Maybe alotta things
Where the red skies burn
Where angels shed their wings

Proliferate this play  
like any of it mattered
this world where scars come easy
hearts get shattered

like knots that are binding
like a voice that never sings
sustaining a sphere of nothing
in a land of toppled kings

withheld as the treasure
to make the rich feel flattered
in this land without voice
as if any of it mattered

Where angels shed their wings
Hearts get shattered
in a land of toppled kings
as if any of it mattered

more than the words
more than the verse
beyond this realm
it feels less like a curse