Month: November 2019

104

One shelters in a comfort where none can roam,
The other wanders with hammer, and crafts crudely;
The first finds security in a tyrant’s home,
While the second strikes against hidden cruelty.

A pounding of the hammer begot
The reprisal of a sordid weak-spot;

But the movement of a hammer had sought
Higher pillars to be erected in thought.

The first curse and condemn
At destruction’s wake;
But a hammer did mend
What was in their hearts to quake.

But,
When

Will the first realize the fortune of breaking?

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to disobey gravity

I was choosing between two worlds

and made choice for the empty
space in-between;

can I bear

that demanding, sinking tug to
earth

and the mockery
physics plays
on form and style?

It must be nice
to float in shapeless expanse;

spiralling, and never entering,
across spherical burden.

It must be nice…

Until vertigo finishes its course,

and space freezes

your
long
dead

corpse

soon to be comfortably snuggled in a crater.

-102

The lonely disparaged in shadows cast with error wander
trying to find a sense for tragedy,
desperately looking for words real enough to sunder;
Then tragedy finds a mask, and wears it proud,
Those that flock, sway’d in penny’s clocked
and docke’d on the crack where it was found
then Ol’tom lost a bed and the lamb, a pound (point).

sprawl

Where I had stepped was unbound immaturity in a breadth so deep it sunk the years
right into me,
and I felt the inertia Self-torment,
repleting so gently.

a new Land had opened, where from foreign jaws clenched on innocence
and off inside a belly:
a new home, but soon, digestion will takes its run,
and from its course my body- gone.

And in a belly, i found safety while something slowly digested, and i was coming closer and closer to extinction, ah! this is truly a tale to tell!

Bent ever forwards, a will to time, a craving towards a future and a risk that at some time does not will itself reward,

and I hoped too, I wished for none,

and I wanted danger in clashes of violence,

and I craved madness, where in pain would sculpt these soft edges sharp
and rust would shine proudly on a spirit unyielding.

and from dirt and concrete grew an immorality so dense it polluted the sun itself, and the world became tarred with my choices, and my cravings that wrung it so thoroughly into my now twisted nature,

I pulled it inside of me, the entire world in all its worth! It’s smallness!
Inside my guts! And from it ripped/rips/ripping apart, because
I too was not satisfied with its surface mockery, and that bastard moon
that feigns in laughter, and let it burst
its fluroscence forward onto this crust and in-flames the rock it heats!
And i wanted to burn the earth for giving me fate, to show it that i had choice, and not it, and I determined and not it! I was the one in control but that bastard had usurped existence into that greedy hell it calls life, but now it was mine to eliminate forever!
Its slow rotation!
Its seasonal change!
Its repulsive position in space!
Its bastard of a moon!

In estatic energy i took the world and ate it. to digest its valleys, oceans, mountains, and the soaked empires on its surface mockery. and i ate and ate until it filled me with bursting pain and from my fullness it expelled out of my mouth in violent pouring, and then through unrequited manner i swallowed it again to prove that i had loved it!

And like small child I held the world in my hand, and crushed it to spirals whirling in its insignificane and i saw its sparks come from its core like lightening had struck my palm and from there it dropped, like frozen glass it shattered and i stomped and whirled it through oblivion into a ground holding both of us so gently, tenderly in sweet loving horizontal solids.

And I!
Wanted nothing at all but adventure unto death.

And so i received my blessings, and i took them inside me kindly
but with an equal spite, i burned through them, mildly

And in my youth, I will look back in a fool, and as a fool I’ll love myself for even more.

The layers here go down
Into obscurity;
What a shallow realization!
For what’s deepest
Is not always profound
And from a step
A hell was found.

A nightmare:

Imagine, to separate yourself from the universal and into that dense night of particularity. To be wrenched with a tension so profound that it wrestles you as a stranger among others and to yourself. And for that idiosyncratic hell to take its roots into your very being, and with it to rip you apart in vehement rage.

There was new footing where risk ran wildly;
and I, through fading trail,
was lead in hope to ever more wild reward,
but an alluring Myth rewrote me,
and who I was drifted toward history ignored;
as hope became too heavy to walk.

 

101 (Death makes a Comedy of us all)

A smiling clown walks timid on tightened rope
And peers down thinking this day might be last;
The face of fear begs in frightened hope
As relentless laughter demands to move fast!

When the clown’s descent endows
The eyes with moment of great fall,
Boom! Goes Death, and humour bows
On knees bruised to crawl.

The crowd,
Sunken deep in whatever is felt
by fleeting grief,
Remarks: “He was a fool; it was to be a
Sudden leap that would make
his living brief!”

And so, from the first to this last fall,
Death makes a Comedy of us all.

100

Some choices
are rightfully decided
on great thoughts of gold,
but by actions blighted:
no similar story told.

Other choices, although maligned,
are means
to ends
deemed most kind.

But by the shining of a moment
awareness is afforded,
leaving the most secure actors
in acts contorted.

So, the dark,
in all its magnanimity
plays our secret muse,
for acts would not be
if light fully shown
on what we choose.

And I wanted danger in clashes of violence,
to break comfort with the frightened awareness rewarded from no reversing.
And I craved a madness where Pain would sculpt soft edges sharp
and rust shine proudly on spirit well-traversing.

And from the engine of a heartbeat cast a smog so dense it polluted the sun itself and the whole world became tarred with my choices that wrought it so thoroughly into my now swarming nature;

and I!
Wanted nothing at all but adventure onto death.

98

Travelling through a trail enlightened;
surely, many rewards to be gained
when led in hope and un-frightened,
but the longer the roads,
the heavier hope grows
and soon needs to be shed;
or else the path, turned laborious,
may leave a traveller misled,
and prospect of reward, now spurious,
can render all the goals dead.