Whispers of Hypnos
By
Joshua Lee Andrew Jones
Published by Joshua Lee Andrew Jones at Smashwords
@copyright 2010 Joshua Lee Andrew Jones
Whispers of Hypnos
When dreams become…?
How did Einstein ride the photon?
Is there more?
Somnambulism affects how many?
Perspective is…?
Eventually we do what?
Reality consists of delusions and…?
Sleep is…?
Omnipresent, Omniscient, Omnipotent, how do you resolve this?
For one more restful moment, you would…?
How did they bury you, Pablo Neruda?
Youth is wasted on…?
Parallax or parallel position, which do you prefer?
Never quite remembered are…?
Of a butterfly dream or a celestial concussion, we are…?
Survival is worth more than what?
Empty Easel
The empty easel, stained and dry as time, waits bereft in the corner
The braces deflect parallels in a curvilinear warped display
producing four dull points that converge on the horizon.
The center beam bows, like a pendant’s pull
on a golden chain after embracing
the years of white space
that daunts
the artist with taunts
of genius as the center of the track
barely supports its own mass as the brackets
tenuously strain to grip the prevailing ledge as it struggles to slip,
slip, one space, slip as the hook catches over the faded blots
of burnt sienna and eggshell white tear like drips
as the a-frame behind is a barren chevron
pointing to the low ceiling, flaking
as the rusted wing-nuts
wish to fall
as they are slightly off-thread
under the adjustable canvas support brace
as they, unwanted and unused, have fused with the bolts.
The grain of the wood has risen and expelled
its stain, rough and splintering veneers
try to separate themselves slowly
as the tin and nickel backbone
supports itself with futility.
The empty easel, reticent in perpetuity, still has a vibrant white seal
a trademark of memories that has not faded in name
and is bright and bold but no longer holds
the smallest canvas or frame. Relegated
to a collectible, a fragile memento
mori, to the past of the delicate
imperfect hand made majesty.
In the down town evening
The epileptic night seizes
city sounds strangle into silence
the sharp buzz snaps
lights on streaming advertisements
blink, not to be perceived
as gawkers and onlookers
planted in stone
cease mid-sentence
between the plastic realities
bubbling up only to burst
the touch screen implants
as sylvan transplants
lift their feet sidewalk weary feet
just above gravity and halt
The unctuous streets
slide away…
The wrought iron sky
ratchets down, click… click… click
The match head stars
flicker in an inchoate
fit*** * *** **
The epileptic night bites its tongue
flashes of furious motion, slash
the frozen hustle and bustle
that allows the city’s synapses
to stabilize. Balance is temporary.
The horns honk deadly dares
as heels clack on the cured cement
The pause is brief
The cityscape in repose
awakens in an instant
and just as one experiences apoplexy
it escapes, only to infiltrate
another. It never ends
There’s not enough Ativan
for everyone downtown.
Burned brightly
The tiger can no longer burn bright
the proud predator yearns to slumber
as the breath is labored and reluctant
catabolic cancer consumes all, evenly
alike-the cat that once dreamt of fire
now waits while the embers are fated to be
as the frost on the glass of the smudged
window beckons the smoke to stain
the view-bright, so bright to be dull-
The asymmetry of the palsied face
invokes memories as the tiger pounces
on to a silk pillow’s sheen and
Purrs, and Primps, and Watches
the prey parade on the dying
lawn of autumn.
The tiger is fed
claws retract.
The breath is labored
The slumber is not.
Strum?
The guitar does not roar
suspended, diminished tones
supplicate silence.
Chords wait in the wood
wondering, withering, waiting
as the steely strings
become tarnished and frail.
The neck and pegs have strained
so long that they could not relax
if unbound.
The hollow body and solid spine are fused.
The bolts have never been unfastened
and the frets fret to let loose
a nervous chuckle
as the steely strings
become tarnished and frail
and cannot be tightened to
tune up, only down.
No standard key will hold
the lock to allow the notes
to flee
the steely stings reverberate
with memory and will not
be replaced easily as
they become tarnished and frail
withering, wondering, waiting
SNAP
Under Synesthesia
Sight stretched to a thread
tied behind the mind
the knot tightens and cuts
into the available light.
(masked marauders mime a play of cruelty).
Taste with the texture of sand
melts in the forge of breath
and drops as tears to burn
away the memories.
(trembling and thirsty, no water is given).
Sounds of bitter harmony
blend into thick vinegar
a sour damp flavor
rings with the hiss of air.
(the bells and whistles mock rhythm).
Touching the fragrant white
pressure, lavender bleeds in
germinating roots, thin tendrils,
along stale still appendages.
(blood is drawn on the wall).
Scents of violet and platinum light
scatters through a prismatic field
and attaches to the attendants
as they become a transparent illuminated stench.
Seep
The deep gorge hides the ebullient warm spring
That runs slowly dissolving the surround stone
In rivulets the aquifer bleeds and drains
into clear cold pools formed by jagged basalt.
***
One eroded plain fills once more with rain
and mingles the waters of Gaia’s perspiration
Rotating languidly like a second hand of a clock
reflecting the moonlight and daylight
as a sliver in the cracked scaled slate surface
pulls the pristine water into an expanding fissure
a liquid vortex seeps down through the stone
where the hour hand of sunlight cannot reach.
***
The shifting ground drinks
and saturates the porous rock
a gentle penetration and filtration
The solvent bonds willingly with minerals.
***
Spiraling down into the depths
to become steam and building pressure
in the heat, only
to rise again in another spring.
Ink
Where are the pens clenched in fists?
So many sentimental sobs
roll across the page
leaving dilute rivulets of
watery lettering
Profound rage is not outrage
It can’t be controlled
The pen is mightier than the sword
But both stab, and the sword
Is mightier
When the pens have no ink
*&%#!
The scream is frozen in mid-wave
It is still, fast holding to the open space
It crests but will not fall, silent
to the ruptured ears to the ground
The cheers cease and remain aloft
in refrain before the adulation inspires
the children on the field
The yell is in stasis riding the
Wind up and down but
Not forward
To resound and vibrate the membranes
The scream is frozen in mid-air
The atmosphere is so thin
It cannot sustain the life of warning
The cheers wait, aloft and insolent
momentarily silent
waiting, watching for the air to thicken
and become moist, it is easier to travel
through.
Screams fall silent in absence.
Soaking
The waterfall goes cold
The wine bottle slips
The attempt fails
Chipped shards of glass
Jagged as shark’s teeth, sharp as tears
cry as they beckon my plump feet
to pop the skin and free
sweet sanguine sweat of iron
as they puncture and crush
and crush and crush and crack
as the checkerboard tile floor
aches for the pulsing blood
as it dries with warm gasps
as the tingles are tossed from
under foot to over head
as pings ripple through the
embedded glass hooks
one jump, to the balls of my feet
the glass attached as a tick, rides
the clumped toes
the dusty glittering glass
macerates and lacerates
awash in crimson
scarlet stains, the red dries to black
as the doors swing open to let
in the light and burn the cuts
that never reach the wrist
Pathetic fallacy
Yellow ebbs and breaches the rounded edge
as potent whispers of magnesium white light
gasp and burn the mist of the greedy morning
New sprouts and shoots search
Among the vast verdant vistas
to view, a stronger sun shining
silently eating the splendor of another
revolution as the heat’s and hell’s
fury is called forth, invoked
to illuminate the path
the plow must follow the fold
of the soil as it releases its
eager moisture.
The sun at its longest hour
seethes and spasms
With reluctant annoyance
as reserved animosity rises
for the parched plants and animals
hiding in the shade.
In vino veritas
Drink in the past
of the particular grain
and mineral of the soil
Drink in the day,
consume the humidity
of the air
and the tilt of the Earth.
The Sun’s peculiar angle is trapped
so delicately when the bottle is right
Time is stored on the vine and released
so we can remember.
Sip from the fluted glass
That chimes with fire
and were forged by the hands
that pluck the grape
and expel seed
Be intoxicated by the will of the vineyard
envision the ancient amphoras sailing
the seas bringing cultivated celebration
and tidings from those long gone.
Let there be light
Unstable sable sooty skies shimmer with silver
slices and streaks of bone white, absent of marrow
cracks of electric arcs weld the ether and darkness
fusing the ground to glass and extending the tether
through all the jubilant and solemn states of matter
***
Deadly holy hallows, baneful yet sacred soil
littered with shards of light, flickers a mosaic
of deep stellar pin pricks, scamper, glitter
and gleam the captive emission of the empyrean
as darkness injects the stone with a mild delirium
***
The cure for divinity came at the Trinity Site
Hyperion rises and falls with elegant strides
in the perpetual escalating titanomachy
the heralds proclaim “Let there be light”
as energy only fathomed by stars fills the night
***
Mourners at the final funeral eulogize the Jinn
and their last exhausted flames tremble and drip
as fluorescent tears, only to dry in eons are buried
Japanese paper lamps glow red and are set adrift
on the sea of sackcloth as the seams are backlit
***
The divine wind stalls but ripples ride ripples
and hide underneath the turbulent turbid waters
the last pieces of parchment fall in flakes to
the primordial depths where the first step
and last step of creation cannot easily be kept
Space –Time, we exist between the Divine
The biggest of bangs booms-the expansion
begins with the singularity-the heart of God
time, matter and space are created-with one beat
up until now and the future-when it beats again
dark Ichor fill the cavity-cosmic valves close
mankind-tachycardia
***
Dark matter-the synapses of the divine mind
Light- is the breath of life
***
You know light-takes time
The impulses of the senses-take time
The interpretation-takes time
to occur.
Then it is sight.
Then it is touch.
Nothing is instantaneous.
We always exist in the past
forever just behind
trying to catch up to the present.
The void of experience winks and taunts us
For we can never exist
in the absolute now.
***
God-man
Past-present
Space-Time
P-wave-flatline
Memory
Atmospheric lesions, ghosts of experience
sliced and sawed off by spectral knives
dull blades, spoons scoop the senses
in as series of sedated speculations
the gray matter is dust
the mind still sits vibrating
at idle, the one second
becomes infinitely lost
in between the firing neuron
and the chemical bridge
***
Scars across starry eyes
Leech out and spread
as the mind seeks contrast
in the light and dark horizon
***
The betrayal of the cell is revealed
and lightens the view as the
smooth agreeable sheen of
childish soft cornered scenarios
are offended by adult content
Buried as a stillbirth, in the dust
The ghosts are lost
and seek their place
on the other side of the bridge
Death Penalty Paradox
Capital (the top of a column) Punishment
is defined as
the State execution of murderers
Our State (the condition of) is
defined as we the people and the
representative placed at the Capital.
Murder is the slaughter of an innocent.
Humanity is flawed (perfection is conceptual)
***
Those who believe in divine judgment
rest their hands on the Bible
as Witnesses (those who observe) to others
it is just a book.
They Testify but not with
the holy spirit in a church
of their peers singing Hallelujah
***
Some in shackles have their restraints
unlocked as new pens write
their names with clear legible letters
Flawed (perfection is conceptual) accusations
and pressures from the approaching hoards
hastily line up the rows
of the abbatoir…As we make mistakes
and we will, innocence dies.
State (we the people) sponsored (endorsed like athletes)
Capital Punishment will therefore kill the innocent
Killing an innocent is murder
Murderers shall be put to death
but there are not enough bullets for
The firing squads to shoot us all, well not yet.
Lottery
Lessons learned in fallen time lost
faceless yearning preserved in the frost
of belittled hope and magnanimous dreams
expectations of elevation torn asunder from its seams
***
The slow consistent vibration of all connected elements
Energy pulsing displaying solidity as illusory components
Valueless time used in vapid vociferous pursuit
Of surface numbing activities and all things moot
***
Wishing for numbers that create a fallacy of freedom
As if life owes anyone anything in this chaotic contagion
Awake from oppressive opposing cramping sleep
Become lucid of thought emerge from the deep
Cold dark haze of simplistic insensitivity’s hold
Upon true flowing consciousness and life’s bold
Meaning in the reflected light of perspective and the subjective
Symbols contained in all, seen by few, an intertwined collective
Wings
The last of the Monarchs rested too long in a grassy field
and was is left behind by the eager winds
as autumn flutters from a long summer
of heavy shade and cloud cover as a
few updrafts finally found their base at the
random columns of transparent golden sheets of sun.
The leaves have relinquished their green
for tones of gaunt yellow and blood red
only purple blooms remain as the last vestige
of an insolent season of bitter blossoms
where the butterflies speckled with inkblot
white leaf shaped wings cavort and compete
for the prime pistil overburdened by pollen.
***
The last Monarch flutters, falls and rises
in the throws of failure into a stone shingled roof.
One wing torn, the wind blows with animosity
and the king spirals down the slope of the gable
as one wing turns to dust and rides the breeze.
***
On the thinning grass, it flops as a fish
on the dry ground that is close to water
as one last effort to recapture the past, and find
balance, the insolent atmosphere grants a wish
and lifts the butterfly off the thinning grass
into the shade of the last violet flowers.
***
Dashed into the thick growth beginning
its cycle of hibernation, the chill comes
and in the shades of noon, there is frost.
All oranges evaporate to brown
and the leaves fall into piles.
Proto-Voltaic
In the failing unfathomable furnace
balance is defeated
heaviness prevails and synthesis ceases
ichor becomes a chain
that links the divine wind
to the breath of the empyrean.
***
The dusty solar furnace reignites
after a few clouds pass by
the cosmic wick glows under
the kiln, as the potter’s wheel
spins over the eons.
***
The wanderers gather to build
the galactic galleries
the sculptures of stellar
cartography plot the axis.
***
Dust is spread unevenly as
stone becomes David and desert
gas glows with signs of electricity
ice giants of the Norse live silently
around certain pieces, Diana spins in delight.
***
Out of the scattered remains
sentient beings stand and stare
to collect the dust as they spit
into the mound to make clay
plates that embrace the heat again
and set free the frigid breath
from the first unfathomable furnace.
***
Will balance be defeated again?
ITCH!
ITCH, itch, itch, ITCH!
Desiccated deserted digits digging at the shallow surface
The simple spike pierces the sensitive reactive skin
***
Separated isolated space of overwhelming annoyance
A diluvium obsession of a moment’s envelopment
***
GOUGE RENDER FLESH ASUNDER, excoriate efficiently
Surrender to the pains warm release (damned contained cell)
***
Scratch for an instant, mild relief, emotive thief
Consequences of irritation last of moments seem weeks
Satiety in red drops, crimson flakes drifting, coalescing to surroundings
***
Pulse, short breath, hesitation, is it gone?
It is back, frustration to collapse!
***
It has evanesced, deep breath?
***
SCRATCH
Tableau Vacant
Snow sifting through the shadowy sky
Dancing down waltzing with winnowing winds
making equal park and stone, no divisible line.
***
The empyrean empties, individuality to singularity
Forms are held by the immured atmosphere of rime
A season of reasons, a necessary purging polarity.
***
Snow sifting through the shadowy sky
Dancing down waltzing with wanton winds
making equal park and stone, all at one time.
***
Children wait with anticipation for the first flakes
Unscheduled vacations, sliding with elation, free fortresses
Adults see the slippery conditions, all the potential mistakes.
***
Snow and chill fell from the shadowy sky
The dance is done, the wind has blown an ashen serenity
that comes at the end when storms slowly die.
Ad Infinitum
Nyx and morning cycles revolve and unfurl
Pleiades and Helios radiate into destiny
Projecting light, streams as violations through the void
Mirror into mirror, a second a measure of tick tock
but all numbers go from zero to plus or minus eternity
A second is infinite when fractions are fractured
Questions of ontology and cosmology boggle consistently
Music of the nature of the universe echoes exponentially
Energy of stars, carbon as tears of a supernova cry for humanity
From the death of past light the organic manifests, strategically
phasing, introducing, producing maybe polluting
consciousness, or a rip in time and space
Quantum mind reaching omni-directionally- Ad Hoc
Ad Nauseam … Ad Infinitum
BLOOM
Delicate streamline tendrils holding firmly into familiar soil
A stable flexible base to stand in the rain and unrelenting zephyrs
A staff of veins and smooth shiny skin reflecting and absorbing
The individual coming together as the collective organism
Each process and purpose in sequence and balance
A simple saturation of sunlight as strength
but shade is comforting in the heat of midday
When Hyperion is at zenith and projects and radiates the cosmic wind
the stem grows straight as the leaves extend to embrace Tellus
Petals spun in beauty’s loom and fragility’s thread
remind the elements of the persistent instinct
The eventualities of withering and desiccation of form
exist in the certainty of winter imbuing the frail fabric
A scent wafting, permeating all inquiring olfactory beings
drawing each closer to be present in the full potential, efflorescence
of the aromatic sensations and memories created and stored
its effect momentary, the intended eternal aim is true
Pistil, Sepal, Stamen, Anther, Pollen, Pollinium, Pedicel, transportation
is an act of desperation and never assured by numbers
The petals discolor, leaves recoil and fall in sequence
to the greeting earth, where the worms wait in the first layers of soil.
***
The cold surrounds, halting all growth instantly
To cease to be annual or perennial, a determination of birth
Some fortuitous fruits are born in the perpetual summer
where the waves of rays may not lose intensity and frequency
so is the luck of the equatorial tropical zone
Where the winter’s wrath is never known
Vox clamantis in the disco
Bombastic blowhards bombarded with recollections
Instigating conversations of confusing conflict
Beer to Absinthe the indulgences pour
Unmitigated circumstances for revelry
Lascivious debauch as Bacchus and Dionysus
Out and about vibrating and drooling
Unaware of the stares and the whispers in the haze
Singing praises to poisons and impulses
***
Obstinate obstacles chauffeur the lanes and the door
Braggarts and haggard nosed vagabond bonding
Sexual dynamic laws inverse the equation
Tracks unfamiliar tripping over flopping feet
Reasons for conscious unconsciousness vary
Erections tend to fail when whiskey prevails
Potent potables and irate individuals find each other
Enjoying imbibing and the pungent weed
Reviving old traditions of vine and seed
Orgasms simulated by biochemical means
Underestimated locks on the chains
Singing praises to poisons and impulses
***
Defying death’s invincible state
Return to confidence a liquid creates
Ubiquitous affection, a sneer in the other direction
Naked ambitions barely arise
Kettles burnt black bang as they are called
Always a synthetic state in which to relate
Reacting to stressors slowly, if not at all
Dying to have fun as fun may be dying
Singing praises to poisons and impulses
Humpty Dumpty and Chaos Theory
Asunder from the center a crack, a fracture in crystal
Insular integrity dispersed with contact
A separation, a simple seam becomes a slow rift
Explosion in all directions, spherical expansion
Cessation of acceleration a setting to rest
A riddle to reassemble as broken eggshells
***
Attracted back to the focus an incompletion occurs
Instability once shattered is naturally imbued
Geometric glass shards refracting inward, reflecting outward give light
The fallen’s flight and depth to quizzical quandaries of recombination
Recuperation a task of time, adjustment a feat of the mind
The total is less for the collision
Never the same previous precision
***
Pieces of the puzzle present a picture of the few
And it is recognizable but still slightly askew
***
Continuity compromised
With shattered potential
Anti-Aphrodite
Why so much anger towards those without children?
Why such suspicion against those not fulfilled by others?
Why do so many smirk when they are told romantic love is fleeting?
***
To accept the greatest gift even if transient is understood
but it is lost in the shuffle of the everyday and loses potency
The corrupter-routine and mediocrity-a haze never to burn away
An insult to intellect forever pushes from the cosmic egg
A wish, wasted away, is granted as it dissolves
as the unrequited love lasts only in insolence
and an undeveloped sense of reality is simpler to chew
Romanticized romantic Roman myths, stolen from Pericles’ forefathers
mutate in the courts of France and fly away with Mercury
we now know it poisonous like lead, and some of us will not be.
***
Why can’t self-destruction be an aspiration?
Why can’t many accept that for some standard success is defeat?
***
Echoes of anguish reverberate and blend to thoughtful paralysis
as we also feel the lacerating instinct to pair bond and fuck
Sensitivity is the access to the torture… we can’t un-know as
an organized, single minded cell, a generation of numbers
waits to propagate, abstain from promoted vice, to acquire the device
to dilute the masses of media, information as blissful stress to the senses
Poor misunderstood stoics, foolish hedonistic hippies and flower kids
Allergens are regurgitated hourly with a succession of clipping and grafts
Cultivated and fertilized versions of Iphigenia and Telemachus
are planted by Lancelot riding a plow horse as he puts on his shiny helmet
Wretched masks of manipulation, seldom known they are worn
Cracks form from bouncing the alpha waves that do not cease
and sleep of routine is not restful, but continues to makes promise
of an epic poem as the journey is to the office and daycare
Love is a laughable word, no less a humorous notion
Loneliness is more comedy, Aristophanes knew, HA, ha!
Some can refrain from the viral strain of DNA but the call of
the incantation is mellifluous as the witches’ brew
of biology boils over as Aphrodite bottles and sells her drug
that some will not buy but it is always advertised.
Imperfect Crystals
Black stained diamonds weeping on the road
Machines milling millions taking what is tolled
Hands bound if they are left to wash
The ore’s wrath explodes to slice the naked tympani
The membrane tears and the bells constantly resound
Fire from the Earth moves dust to dust
and penetrates the ancient coal
***
Agencies of western vision close eyes violently to ignore
all of the manifestations of their sub-consciousness to abhor
Silk lined pockets pulled out to release the sand
Loud laughing corpulent corpses pollute the promised land
As the crimson card dealers shuffle for Croesus
a black hearted straight wins the pot of ash
***
Our fields of the night can never be re-sewn
Bones are reabsorbed to become minerals again
Signs and symbols decry destiny’s plan
To be is to be perceived in the great sunset’s industry
Eyes shut and ears closed, never removed if never known
Seethes, bleeding in the streets of Freedom
bondage is never just a rusted chain
Museum
A suggested donation is paid as
paint dust, dried rainbow, faded flakes
flutter in the columns of over head light
bouncing off the tile floors dispersing
the diamond flecks of inspiration in
the pristine recycled air.
Avenues of captured sight are lined with
the painted and engraved mirrors in which
few dare to truly gaze. Plug in and be guided along.
Theories and educated guesses swirl
as invisible smoke that is present
as real forestalling silence.
A boy dressed in a business suit says
“That picture with the lady and the baby is pretty.”
As his father listens to the prerecorded commentary
from his white plastic covered earphones.
The boy loosens his tie as a pot has caught
his eye and he rushes to the pedestal.
He tries to stop but the body and base
collide. The pendulum once in motion
cannot find its center.
On to the tile, the Grecian Urn falls
to become pieces, parts of a sum
that litter the avenue so none shall
pass as a claxon call terrifies the patrons
and alerts the curator to call the insurer
but the father cannot hear.
Guards in gray, underpaid and sleepy in their cells
converge upon the disintegrated past
as the reflection of a badge
glitters in the father’s eyes.
Light takes time to deliver the dance
of inverted images into the mind and we
forever chase the present and live in
passed by moments.
The urn was broken before the boy
saw it shatter.
BANG
Elemental silence, the first imbalanced form
A pervading absterged clarity of the unsounded
Vibration ceased and in a stasis to be held motionless
Nothing to be without and nothing to conform
To listen for the secret silence will just confound
Its place is omnipresent, atmospheric and frequenciless
***
Stop and unleash the vehement behemoth
The deluge of waves of vociferous vibratory blasts
Shattering all solidity and casting all of the taciturn asunder
Not in all feats contrived by imagination parallel the violence
Of a single concentrated calm explosion of light from the silence
Displaying scenes of time’s dreams and distant solar thunder
***
A centered mass collects, coalesces and correlates
Collapsing, crushing, changing from nebulous to geometric
The quiet has since faded but restores as expansion relaxes
No graduated segments of distinction, nothing yet to be dated
Extra-universal complexities following the only plain super-symmetry
Changing the degree of rotation and all spins away from the center
Outward, onward, forward and toward forever together
Gravitation holds, fusion puts up its fists
Creation came about well enough
This cosmic play had no rehearsal
In this dimension anyway.
Breath and whispers
The atmosphere condenses and holds a heavy hand upon
the friction of simple gestures that engorge the fool
Both are lost for a handle to grip the moment
The symbols of alchemy are written, the scene resolves
and reality pauses slightly as the apparition in this daydream winks
Knees quake and become gelatinous as the floor pushes upward
Sweat releases in torrents of putrid pheromones on to clenched digits
The flight of fear flees into the shadowy inchoate night
The circle completes as one combatant exists in defeat
Embers are pitched and fall from the surrounding chorus
The blinded and distorted course into each other
Release, release control and act
Release, release fear and fight, no the drain has no plug
Give up and slip away silently, so sadly, whirl in the vortex
A complex embrace with sympathetic intonation
of a night’s nihilistic void unavoided
Something filled something lost
Bereft of breath, chest in ever tightening chains
The old nemesis comes suddenly, sharply back again
Pressed violently into the back of the unforgiving chair
The apparition winks once again.
Gravity intensifies and all sounds amplify
To feel the stop of your heart between beats
To think each pulse is the final push
***
The temperature increases and the flash flood breaches
No one would wants to be shot down and die as gossip
The deep breaths become saviors of sanity
The internal attack makes the simple just survival
as apprehension ambushes the soldier before the field of battle
The apparition does not know it is a daydream
and dances on top of the altar of worship
The end is eminent
The seizure is paralysis
The fight was exhausting
Leaving crippling corrosives behind in pools
that consume the shackles that bind
The second hour to the seconds
Exhausted
A coal colored canvas of black streaks and hazy gray hues
takes in all views and obscures the background scenes
small staggered and forced steps falter
and the hands of doubt hold firmly
A quick slap strikes hope into shards
And rips away at the soul’s complexity
Repose, the quiet escape draws motivation away
Simple sighs and unreasoned tears stain the head holding pillow
gripped so tight the joints press through the elastic flesh
White knuckled, face down, sunken screams silenced by the density
The exhausted pants and hoarse voiced whimpers evanesce
***
Damp recollections drift through the gaps of regret
As they shift in size and space exponentially widens
Vacuous, raucous numb visions leak in and out
Concentration fails as the will diminishes
Nothing but pressure at the compass points
Echoes in an empty room resonate, deflect and end
Pulses of light through dirty panes of glass
Refract unevenly and leave foggy glares
***
The clouds combine to block the rays
as black to gray surrounds completely
at every waking moment
at every attempt an opportunity to flee
The diaphragm struggles with shallow gasps
and the lack of color is all that is seen. Exhausted.
A Soul Solution
An angelic primordial ethereal essence
glowing from the great beyond and bye and bye
Amalgamated light before there was time and movement
A cheerful cherub no more, it only exists at the core
Now it is encased and smeared in blood, mud and filth
not to be washed away and cleansed, these are badges
tattered and stained, remnants and remains
Lessons learned from the splinters still stab
while walking the plank of treachery.
***
A joke not to be gotten, a code to be forgotten
An observer of the superstition, symmetry, and antiquity
A being of light can only be seen in contrast
and backgrounds dark as a trenches are dug with glee
as the void has no real power unless the light allows
In nothingness one will find a bland balance beyond comprehension
Just a warm squeeze of the vacant, vapid stare
Into the glare of infinite, the mind must become an empty room
***
Just an angel’s shroud to burn and turn to vapor
in the sun’s ultra-violet waves, the clouds break up and weep
Drenched by a lye soap sud solution, convoluted and saturated
99 and 5 percent away from eternity and seeping pure sores
washing away sin is done by ingesting a soul solution
only the pursuit is guaranteed
revolution is a germinating seed
and Icarus found humility
perjury or purgatory?
Patience
Control………
The struggle began from a series of events
The birth, the death, the relevance
Contact……
***
Fighting through the solid ice wall
And it is only getting colder and the movements slower
When motion ceases, absolute zero, the sleep begins
Don’t wake up, it is calm in the cold
No action or response; elicit…
Explosion…..
***
Release elastic potential into the kinetic
Learning from visual implants to phonetics
Constricting manacles manifested from fear
Motives of the future pathways become unclear
Resolution……
***
The intertwine of space and time
In a convection transformed into a linear state
An implosion of introspection, expel to create
Freedom through the wall
From the voice of the sun
Movement to momentum
Vices finally fall
Completion……!
Waves and Particles
A reciprocal recalcitrant surge ebbs
Currents created flow upstream to mix the waters
A stratification in the blend warm to cold
Water breaking down stone into liquescent sand
Combining, petrifying, back to the origins again
Cycles of tides, mist to rain and the draw of the land
In the simple natural circles, nascent to recycling
Compression, release, and emission of radiant heat
Diffusion , homeostasis and all elements meet
All equilibrium eventually fails
entropy is the only certainty
In perpetual motion……..
nothing from everything….
Everything to essence, essentially…
A Repeat
Fractured reality implodes but readily recomposes
Laughter rumbles, brewing to percolation
A completely encompassing auditory assault
Comes from a previously recorded track
The protagonist can only escape in two directions
As the light’s projections flicker and disperse
The show must go on.
***
A song’s cadence from hours ago will not stop its performance
Repeating, repeating, repeating, repeating, endless subdued torture
The havoc and hollers wish to burst from the control, but it is remote
To wreak lies, as devilish children malicious, magical, mythical
Adventures in the twilight does not allow the shades invisibility
Safety-delusional, illusory function, repeat. repeat, Repeat
A compression, comprehension of dimension, pursuit and pressure
Fall from all sides, one direction, direct affliction of conscious behavior
Can there be peace and quiet?
Can there be a silent night?
Repeat?………repeat!
REPEAT: REPEAT
Song please stop. Halt for one second without the demon Belial’s aria
No gentle nights or violent days dawning, faces pathetic frowning
Just a list of channels a T.V guiding page perhaps
Heat just escapes so readily and the sweat just collects and brews
Just like the laughter that just might not escape
***
A guffaw, repeat
A scream, repeat
An enveloping pervading simple total absence
How can you say silence is not violent? Absence is abuse
Sometimes there is nothing left to watch but boredom
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
Epistolary Exposition to the Eventual End
Where does genius lie? Does it lies in wait?
Does it stand with those who try to defy fate?
Can consciousness control the path of evolution?
Or is it an indifferent direction fulfilled in apathy?
Is the nature of our reality formed in a forged will
Interacting and mutating within and without of us all?
Are the boundless primordial fears conquered when life is quenched?
It is a fact that in time all meet in the same place?
The question of the void or the dichotomy of the afterlife prevails
Can there be individual fabrications from the arrested biology?
***
To preview the dispensation for the few returning faces
is a hopeful philosophical safety veil
Some accomplishments can be added to the living chronology
Maybe immortality comes in memory
A second can be broken down infinitely
exist between the seconds
***
Keeper of the endless dark or forever light
Where do these questions lead?
Should in life we continue the good fight?
Or dissolve into depravity, and take no heed?
***
Dear friend, the eventual end,
***
Everyday must be such an overwhelming deluge, chaos overflowing
There is no rest and no sympathy for the purpose
Someday hurried humans may decide not to die
And a select species simply stops ceasing to acknowledge you
But without care, the universal statements are pleasing to you
In a short list: dilapidate, dissipate, diffuses and evaporate
People live in fear of you and your diverse manifestations
With good reason for you are the frozen winter season
You know all men and beasts and seen them in slumber and feasts
You are the invisible inevitability, the edge of an eclipse
and the noonday light.
***
P.S The becoming begins as we end
***
Clarity from the center creating concentration
Confusion ceasing from calm cognition
Patience can save your soul and friends
But is this advice always effective the eventual end?
***
Covered in gold and cement the silent sepulchers are sealed
Are you living roomy? Wafting wavering scents of dismal decay
stall in cloud formations of gloom
Of the everyday job, such a voluminous vocation
A growth industry with no ceiling
***
Some of us foolish friends wish you would just take a damned vacation
But there is no rest for the iniquitous, as the employment dictates
But we all know it is not wicked to do your role well
So no rest in sight, don’t worry about the spite
For you are our greatest impetus and motivation
so it is better you do not halt and take a vacation
we are just wearied
Sorry just one more question.
As the eternal jester mockingly sparingly speaks
Softly, a whisper flowing from parched lips
States like the season as the moisture departs
but what if you no longer served a purpose?
Where would we be?
***
Thank you for listening, see ya soon.
Shoeless
I cannot walk without pain in the middle of the road
the path is so worn that the ruts have become stone
On the west-side a rampant river and the eastside a cliff
A current too swift, the precipice wall a perfect sheer
I must go forward; the sun will be set in moments
There is shade ahead just a few steps in sight
A tree of green and white had dropped its ripened fruit
It is rotten and has lured frenetic yellow jackets, no shade today
I cannot stop, cease, desist or diminish my flow
a rhythm so comfortable, numb and coercing
A foot to the east, a foot to the west, north-south not apropos
Feet have become flat nothing much more than pavement to clap clop
I must push on, I have been pushed too much
Balder at the reigns is struck by Thor’s thunder
The hammer flies with the winds and the light retreats
There is no rainbow bridge to Asgard here just a brown beaten path
Other travelers pass without salutations or acknowledgement
They tread where so many have been before no messages are sent
as warnings, they stomp down the trail, unknowingly the passers-by
press the dust to clay, to stone, to increase the ruts density
to make my feet hurt more and I cannot go shoeless today.
Polymer Envy
Melted, formed, imprinted purposes
Momentary freedom instantly purchased
A zip and a current of electrons and digits
Fake flowers, twine, medications and power
Something unseen, seemed distant and unreal
Processes unaware, systems don’t care, unfeeling
Accumulate, accrue, accept the compounded problems
A polymer trap, spun into a fine fibrous web
Celluloid superstitions projected, reflected, absorbed
Serial celebrity promising, reassuring, absent
Wishes and aspirations evaporated and vented
Nothing is larger than life…
Thin laminated screens and light flat consoles
Commerce adverted, three minutes, credits
Operas of the ridiculous and heroes of pretenders
Respect the projection, instead of the reflection
Moving walls and windows whispering wishes…
Aspirations aspirated, spiritus asper
***
A cut, tuck, snip a slice and now everything is nice
Or what others saw in the mirror and smashed it
Dolls of human frailty share true similarity
The spin doctors weave threads of Teflon fiber
Silicon survivors, a simple insecurity may kill
On a vanity a doll rests
***
Prosthetic, unnecessary posing, positioning to polymers
Plagiarism of porcelain masks and figurines
Film featuring fraudulent faces grimace and gleam
Garrisons of gleeful drama and uplifting idiocy
Plastic people playing on soulless celluloid and screens
Perpetuating pathetic projections without responsibility
***
Illumination of electric fluidity and radiation entertainment
Traveling at the speed of invention, overwhelming information blooms
Distillates, isomers, refraction contraption enlightens the heavens
Resistant to rust and some flames, fire resistant extinguishers
Cultivated toxins as mistaken panaceas, a synthetic lifestyle
Leading to synthesis, symbiosis---evolution in the
Process the small ripples get lost in the proceeding waves
Of delusion.
***
To sell the synthetic to the synthetic?
To create the more consistent synthetic aesthetic because they don’t
Believe in their owned authenticity
Remiss we will see permutation of disparate disparities
Money a creation, plastic credit inventors, insecure ideals of beauty
Caused by what? Celebrity and misery certainly
Cleft palate is one thing,
But to have surgery to just fix a bump on your nose?
AND YOU CAN DIE, AUTHENTICALLY, Really.
Conference
The ruffle of suede and faux fur
being hung up diminishes in
the echo of eager voices
awaiting the recital and reveal
of the salutations
The plain podium rattles with cascades
of coffee stained papers
the ruffle stops, the silence forebodes
the mechanical mouth of the ancient
orator that opens with a cough
the speech is chewed vigorously
professors count the letters as scribes
with ink saturated palms smearing images
on ledgers made of dust and slate
they talk to themselves and describe the
faulty bridges, verses and lack of philosophy
as they all go over the transom as wonderful
wisps of waxing and waning bewilderment
building tension and stress as the seated audience
feel their backs bend and crack and soon
they will seize
The orator slips on his embroider jacket made of dog hair
linen and lion’s regret, it falls and fits
A quietude resumes, the words
are counted, spoken, and placed
Under shoe and step
To be ground down into paste to fill
the wrinkles on their faces
and in a casket of ancient resolve
the feast of language is consumed
with soft sensitive dentures and
ready bent forks
The ruffle of suede and faux fur
is furious as the flight from the
benediction is swift out into the winter gates
No longer do the pundits read
from the stained pages that fell
the rattle of wooden shoes stomp off
and diminish with distance.
Crossing
Multi-lane gray confusion moving regretfully forward
Separated by barriers broken and scared with paint
Sacrosanct people marching in opposing direction with flags toward
the past with inverted heraldic crests faint and disintegrating
The two dimensional highway merges with the z-axis horizon
Inchoate effluent drifting with parallel protrusions into the future
Pendulum scenery blurred with the speed of life’s deception
Gazing to the sky’s break with the temporal torture of rising and setting
***
Pulling on, pushed, projected and vectored in null space
Insouciant rushes and stereotype facelessness races
to the industries evaporating wealth from blighted cities
reverting, fleeing back from a translucency to fallacy
***
Envenomed by foolish ideas of destiny
the signal lost charge so quickly
Back and forth in cerebral cables
the crossing stations relay nothing stable
as the multi-lane gray confusion merges
Trial by Ordeal
Divine intervention does not
persuade equally to the flesh
Inquisitors torment the torturers
dunked in the waters, floating a way in droplets.
Repent and be guilty is the reverence aspired.
The trial of the centuries’ past, passes off
the ordeals so to separate truth from ratings
on an imbalanced, graduated, rusted scale
etched with raised scarlet lettering
***
Interviewers and photogenic barristers duel
as cameras project predictions of astrologers
the servants of anxiety linger and transcribe.
The grand jurisdiction is set apart
in two rooms of equal size and mass
A hearing is no true place to listen
when we see no righteousness
hear no righteousness
and just speak.
***
The hand over the flaming book
does not leave a blister
An iron brands, the verdict is
a muted, fettered scream
There is more shame in accusation
than lingering in the immured palaces
of eggshell walls, portable cell phone
towers, good behavior and cotton sheets
Exoneration comes with
but a minor disfigurement.
Conatus
A cast of winter friends are called
to the holiday table bejeweled
with the merriment of delicate
Venetian glass and cheeky
Chippendale chairs that carry
our bodies, seated in luxuriance,
as our mortal words flank each other
The polished oak plateau bounces
the conversations on its straight back
through the transparent witnesses
forever holding fast to their colors
in the descending particles of light
scattering from the teardrop crystal chandelier
that never falls from grace, the fastener is stainless,
as the soot from the candles
begins to touch the shards with
grimy hands but the frozen tears
tinkle in the draft that leaks ribbons
across the festive eve
***
We clang over Game theory
We clash over M-theory
but each theory is but a theory
as Voltaire and Thales saturate the air
and linger in the ruins
of a half-eaten meal
***
The wine stumbles out of buxom bottles
pieces of bitter cork mock those who
are disappointed by not having a perfect pour
but as murmurs become memories
and grand proclamations sing paeans
to the sheets of the night’s intellect
a small child, bare chested, creeps behind
with a chocolate smeared smile
A hot airy spray seasoned by strained peas
fermenting for hours in the soft new bowels
is filtered by an arrogant cloth diaper
and scalds my weary calf
The miasma embraces my slacks
it bonds with the very weave
as fluted glasses raised in
winnowed half-light toll in tangled chimes
the child crawls under the elaborate ritual
bumping into the central support of the table
***
The players of the play of pageantry
retire to the den where children should dare to fare
and smoky scotch weeps into rocks glasses
as French doors unlocked, but they should be,
flash open as one knob jostled by the whirlwind
of youth cracks the frustrated window
framing the evergreen outside flocked with snow
The bare chested babe slides across the hardwood
like a chick coming in for its first landing
as an avuncular sheen drapes over this weary soul
who only wishes to reminisce and discuss
coming days at hand, but no, all must wait
as the father, my friend now tamed by time
hoists the child up from under his armpits
and is held at arm’s length
they smile devilishly at each other
as the mother, encased in drama, sweeps through
sky blue pajama top in hand
The boy kicks his tiny raccoon paw feet
the cloth gleefully falls away
and a stream that will never know
the chilling ice of winter
soaks his father’s Egyptian cotton shirt
like the Nile during a flood
nothing can be done as he says, “Ah, this is actually progress”.
Defying
Born into a glossy picture framed by glass and mottled stone
She knew the secret to defying time’s fading.
Avoid sorrow, joy, confusion and choice
And wear the mask but never frown or smile behind it.
Ritually standing on her head for half of each day
To counter act gravity as it reminded her
of the tug of precocious toddler and she never
allowed any wizened aunt pinch her cheeks.
Never to stand in direct sunlight
The rays and dry heat crisp
The skin to crumpled sheets.
Getting old is her greatest fear
And her therapy is not living.
Drink lots of water and stay indoors
And eventually you have a pristine
Well preserved corpse as they
Lament over her casket she gets her final reward.
“She’s much too young to have died.
Mortis Rift
Sometimes to be is not being
Without any questions just quiet
Not to be may be the answer to recover a semblance of humanity
Noble or not
…
I will find the mechanisms that created and store your will
I will take what fulcrum of thought and perception you have
And steal its axis to construct cavitation.
I will see what is internal, the lonely places where you hide
And take the ersatz essence and megalomania you allow in your being
I will implode your core and manifest a new center and rotate
It seems like destruction but it is elevation, transcendence, when
You are controlled by phantasms, saturated by materialism, Americana
It is altruism because I tear asunder the countenance of contamination.
Security is illusory; the sooner the dissolution the harder life is
To take but no longer are you distracted by visions of others
And the first step to freedom is seeing the invisible, indivisible networks
which do not allow motion in the viscous emulsion.
The machinations have been there all your life
you are impervious to the emotive crank of the pulley
and once removed there is not a direction you cannot step or stumble.
True Freedom is Terrifying and fascinating, and this not a threat!
Assassinate thy avuncular certainty, the solutions poured in your ears
Whilst you slept have antidotes and Polonius was in on it.
FUEL
An interjected fued created by fumes
Evaporating and contaminating the open room
A spark ignites a vapor to a flash
A simple regretful tumultuous clash
Easier just to let it go amongst the flames
All but an idiotic, egocentric, grudge remains
Apologies are sometimes harder than adamant stone
The resolution is left to decay with the bones
Of the atmosphere; of the stalled scene
Of the sarcophagus, the shroud rips
To be wrong is never the worst thing in this transient life
Mistakes are everyone’s universal movement through the strife
Awareness is the potent potential to the allegorical dreams
To let confusion reign is anathema to the kinetic means
A single signal echoes evenly through the serenity
A projected protagonist’s proposition extant to infinite
Release or be dry kindling that will know the vengeful spark
To the little temporary tocks
Quiet down you noisy wooden clock
QUIETUS
Blessed Curse
Chaotic cacophony centralized controlled
Reorganized into streams of perception
To categorize and analyze external forms
Recognition of ambitions through volition
***
Simple signals to symbols as solutions
The confusion between the factions
Evolve to pulsating waves and fragments of light
The more illuminated the more to affright
***
A blessed curse to burn away the blissful shadows
A blessed curse to change the reality of Nature
A blessed curse to be burdened
***
The pretense is acknowledged so glimpse behind the obvious
The accumulation of outcomes splinters from cause and reaction
A process of progression and plausible prediction
An ascension from the abyss of the oblivious and instinct alone
***
A blessed curse and a cursed blessing it is
A blessed curse until we…
Bee bop or what we thought
Growing intoxicated as masses
The sound flows and grows
The patterns amongst the organic seem unsolvable
Watching the bird soar and fall
We all become dizzy
strolling in the park with Dukes and Ladies
A thing becomes as we sway and swing in the wind
A maelstrom rolls as our arms grow weary but stronger with gasps
A thunderous reverberation of a wordsmith songstress
A field of what seems melts with the dreams
And the vibrations sound with meaning
An ode to the changes in created chords, chaos and order
Killing the Czar’s Dog
All the confident comrades vent venom’s fumes
No longer people, no longer power, no longer living
Bullets off of jewels, blood embroidered tapestries
Regicide is not enough the dog must die too
***
The assassins of Islam armed by Allah with hashish
The red devotion flows over mountains to the Mongols’ connection
Black and red books, hand delivered righteousness
***
Onward Christian soldiers, only children, falling into slaughter
Inquisitive minds want to see and know heretical theoreticals
Burn away the difference in the smells of offerings and smoke
The savaged souls were saved, weren’t they?
***
Ghost dancing on the open arms of the great embrace
One shot injects fear and decimates this ragged, runned race.
The red revolution’s devotion abdicates the throne of reincarnation
***
Dylan knows God is on everyone’s side, or at least behind them
Surrounding surreptitiously for no one to see
Unless like eyes blink synchronistically
As the Diminished
As the poet’s words turn to contorted scribbles and sighs
As the painter’s pallet colors merge sadly and dry
As the Sun’s light at night is a reflection on the Moon
As the summer’s breeze is taciturn to the rage of the monsoon
As the daredevil’s action without their own fear
As the archer’s aim when they cannot see clear
As the singer’s song without an audience to feel
As the film projector’s movement without a movie reel
As the guitar plays with rusted broken strings
As the notion of calm while the tornado screams
As the shadows’ ability to conceal when dawn’s light reveals
As the control of illusion when truth’s key turns to unseal
As we are.
A Royal Execution
Prince Valium and Princess Halcyon took a midnight stroll
Around and down a darkened topiary to a poppy lined path
It is so soothing to lie down in the hazy fields
and see the meta-atomic atmosphere obscure the stars
hand in hand the royalty venture into the streams surrounding the path
dissolving the dirt from their shoes and their bodies feel the cold flow
a beautiful, uneventful night to go for a stroll so similar to the last
it is humorous how time merges to a moment of mechanism
and all of the dreams and fears collapse into a point on the pivotal plain
where all things begin with a breath or end with the same.
As our heroes’ journey began to wane they feel like they should move on
and not stay on the poppy path, but transfer their first direction to
the electrically charged forest of vines and gray leaves to venture
forth and see the lacerating cliffs that were promised to be from childhood.
***
The Princess asked the Prince, “Should we dance on the edge?”
In vociferous response the Prince states, “We have already begun.”
The unstable, lacerating geometry thrusts at the evening
Organic orgasmic murky stream’s current converge with the
shale shade of the ground and black Amorphous sea
Footing is unstable in the obscured starlight, the lands shake
From the river’s erosion and the potent pollution
the crystals lined peaks had previously frozen as
the barriers of the living waters and the tired land rumble.
***
They dance in a violent trance waxing and waning to the emotions
Of the celestial spheres and then the royalty stops to face their fears
In unison they yell, “Should we jump over the edge of the cliff and be
forever young and fearless?”
A question in vain as they were already plummeting and are
absorbed by the waste and the Amorphous sea
both wave, hand in hand, and sink.
Cemetery
Inner pressure expands the seams
until lucid leaks deluge
Exhausted fumes violently vent
Collapsed in potential inevitability
Engraved stones were kicked over by children
As petulant specters hide in the family tombs
***
An indifferent sun diffused in silver gray clouds
Delicate storms invade the helpless horizon
Innocuous aftermath leaves disrepair
Incessant laughter pervades the devoid ruins
Equal in capacity to all of the joys of men
Deafening visions of nature’s dismissal
***
Corporeal centralized civilized clarity
Created in silence
Insulated Days
Silver gray clouds become sullen shrouds
over the potential and promise of the day
A crushing crash straight to the petrified ground
are any flights of ambition, to any heights
Accused of inaction when movement obliterates
possibilities that may ascend randomly but in less complex avatars?
Manic, purposeless pacing depletes the reserves of creation not agitated
to change position for the sake of such, redundant
quietly concealed but the direct pathway is obtrusively revealed
that shouts supplication for termination not to be trapped, compressed.
***
Altered light, by the gravity of parallax sight soaks
visions, estranged hallucinations, bicker in the corner
Subduced motives all vitality seeps away maliciously
Seduced operatic hearts play as the master conducts the ventricles
A cramping fit comes through slicing the hanging
vestment of youth to ribbons
A forfeit is announced as mixed metaphors mate
and reproduce in a more opportune daybreak
The glaucoma shuts the eyes and struggles with resistant lids
as repose that readily grasps and squeezes neurons
to implosion oozes away through the spaces
and rises to the insulated day of tomorrow.
Today is replete with nothing complete.
***
A mild nap watches time mock the Grand Guignol radio play
Jagged sharp shards of reality
target the tracking eyes full of neurotoxins’ baneful
wishes toward the halting of a gossamer speculation
that fulfills the space without seams
The sullen shroud drapes with little concern
and tears between self and intention of will
The desultory sonorous screams to be still
compresses, and pressurized time slowly dims the lights
That lead from platonic caves for transcendence we fight
Phoenix fire’s flames burn and singe the past
allowing evolution into a state of creativity that lasts
Repudiate rescind this war of attrition
It doesn’t matter if yesterday was not a completion
The silver gray clouds become the shrouds
of the potential and promise of the insulated days
The problem with clouds is that they break.
Circulatory
A single solitary cell venturing
In a unidirectional pulsating pathway
Leading eventually back to the same point of origin
Impure metals and minerals bonding with rage
Speeding together at pace.
***
Surrounded by momentum perpetually pulling
Away and down swirling around the drain
***
Motivation becoming cholesterol
Collecting on the arterial wall
Emotion is an allergen
Invading but a catalyst
Sadness in the sneeze or the soul
***
A progression and a path is the state
Of life contained in a nucleus, or fate
Cells fusion and releases elements
Energy, exhaust, and waste
And yet it is the state… into cycles we will revolve
***
And circulate
Sinking
The spinnaker aloft, folds over
as the winds stop and casts the sail
as a blanket tucking in the passengers
submerged into sleep the sail
is a semaphore flown flat
a vivid sign that can only
be seen from above
The clipper has clipped the jetty
A deconstruction, a cultivated crunching crash
No flames to consume the sense wreckage
just the syringe currents
sucking, straining and draining consciousness
The flag of fate flutters with a few flashes
to the beachside onlookers
The drunken boat capsizes
The bodies neutrally buoyant fight
to remain in the last layer of light
as they descend to the hues of ink
immature silverfish nibble on noses and toes
as a insolent rip current sweeps through
The ballast reaches the benthic realm
The sail detaches in an errant gust
and rides the waves to the shore
The rest sinks.
Mutually Inclusive
Breath without oxygen is suffocation
Light without sight is still reflecting
Thought without purpose recesses to memory
***
Muses’ magical majesty in mythopoeic places of insight
touch the heat of the solitary spark of emotion melting
pulses of impulses, spasm into spacious expatiation
The center elliptical, the forces grab hold towards the end
Souls greet with a heart arhythmic, the mind expanding
thoughts were in fibrillation and were too demanding
***
In the throws of continual separation without permission
Aches in places that never existed before admission
Combined propulsion from fusion to violent fission
***
Is God without conscience still divinity?
As a heart without blood still beating
Without you it was always a Tabla Rasa feeling
Were we truly symbiotic, a beneficial being?
More like a sapphire that lost its glitter and gleam
***
Relations were obviously not as they seemed
Breath without oxygen is still suffocation
Light without sight is still reflecting.
Tribute to Time
The quaking and seizure of a fortress far on an undiscovered forest
The surrounding bastion’s walls are made of atavis skulls
The mortar is of decomposed powder of their skeletons
planed smooth and without spaces, squared evenly
Unspoken ancient languages echo profound proclamations of remorse
filled with sympathetic frequency that vibrates all molecules equally
Parapets and crenulations built of vertebrae and sinews
all outlined and enthusiastically bordered with artery and vein
Atriums abolished the garden gateways are burnt by acidic sunlight
Foliage defoliated by volcanic breath and crimson released by
Earthquakes, the interned forest sinks into the savaged and raped hills
The breath is followed by Earth’s vomitus volcanic lava, a larva
Covering, cocoon like chrysalis, filling crevices solidifying, heat rises
into the caustic atmosphere
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