Monday, February 22, 2016

Sequence

In the words of others
Framed in the tears of conflict
The bitter gnawing
The grinding of biochemical gears
Has wrought this frame

When the color has been drained
Of what significance Is the painting?
Reduced to a sketch
Reverted to its conceptual architecture
The time unwinding itself
Unto possibility

I echo into your emotions
How you must have felt on that day
so many years ago with me.
I have come to practice that kind of patience
Only to find it does not come
Without its own tense of import.

And I am rendered asunder
Into the depths of-
all that I do not understand
As toxicity rises and falls at the movement of the moon
I know how you feel:
I don’t have time for this.

Devouring my life
Minute by minute
I’ve become detached
And I’ve been trying to suture myself into..
Something.
To little perceivable avail

I suppose it is sorrow
That propels the need to be effortless
As I have inherited the knowledge
I was formerly lacking
Through struggle and strife
only to remain painfully incomplete

Like the smell of colitas
It lies in the experience,
In the dream of this ephemeral life
That I am so grateful
To have shared my time
with you

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Demon weather


When everything is far more still than it should be
The feeling of loneliness in a crowded place
Waiting for something to strike with surprise and awe
Like some dream on the verge of taking place
Swarming like an invisible brood
That pulls the attention from all facets
Devouring as insatiable
Consumption as irreverent
what sickness do I owe this occasion
what shrine do I worship this absent god
in the miasma of tar and strife
they struggle and die
exacerbating the wounds they have placed in the earth
the wounds they have place in each other
I hear it in the steel and stone
The absentness of where I once sensed priority
Creeps like a thunderhead through the valleys of my mind
I can feel the electricity in the air
The rumble of something latent seeking freedom
The plasma of a series of conditions
Each of which exert a pressure in and out of this realm
Hungry for retribution
Towards a world they do not conceive of
And I taste in the aether
In the flick of the wrist way
That we put english on our respective realities
I smell you in the rain that falls off in the distance
I Reach you in those dreams that never come to fruition
And the low rumble of thunder that shakes the land and sky
and everything beyond
the phantoms are so much more afraid of you-
they are cursed in their limitations
and I must delve again for your identity,
in the thoughts that bite and bleed
in the teeth that snatch and leer
I must find you again. I am not afraid
I am not afraid of anything.

Monday, February 8, 2016

gaze of granite

I once held the dreams of our future
Only to taste the constant bitterness of our reality
In your land of dreams I see now the dawn that never comes
desperate and forlorn-
rendered to the idea that you cannot awaken
made supple by your ire
Ceaselessly waiting
perhaps my expectations have been too high
Perhaps I have been consumed in the minutia
this is a lie
Allow me to illuminate the truth
Shedding light on myopia in my expansive world
Cached in umber, your kitsch tangle of self-importance
consumed in perceptions of import & grandeur
Unable to see the rising tide
That has eroded the foundation to the bridge that links our worlds
There is so much music playing
That falls upon deaf ears
There is so much beauty to these little things that get overlooked
Your impatient glare,
frozen in a twisted expression of disgust
as a gargoyle that stares into its maker
Taking a step back
Setting my chisel down, have I made you this way?
Or have you always been like this?
Like a dirge that plays out endlessly
To a person that dances to the rhythm of life
when looking into those stone eyes
all I find is vacancy
I see barren windswept fields
geometric landscapes frozen in place
the magic that left this landscape,
left ├Žons ago




Sunday, February 7, 2016

the murder

their voices call out call out cacophonously
Into the rush hour traffic
Shrill and divisive
these languages clash
As a tide breaking on the rocks
at the whims of the moon
They ebb and flow
In the nexus of diligent and deft
The saunter of community cries out inadvertently
As a side effect of our interdependence
Here they rely on one another
Here, they seek each other’s company
And in these fleeting moments
when the rain begins to fall
so tremendously human
Where we seek comfort in the words of another
And I seek comfort in my ideas,
in the visions I have, deep in the woods
where they call me 'brother'
beckoning me to their depths
where I feel so small, and honored, and hailed
to be home where the lichens coat everything
in the worlds that envelop my thoughts
I want to BE here so much
Where our minds are one, on-line, convergent
Where my voice is louder and deeper than it already is
Where I feel so connected to my peers, as equals
In this realm, reserved for those that hear the murder as a song
lapping up the rain like nectar