Live in terror of who you are really are
Rotate by degrees to change
Forget the wings
The dramatics
Pick up where you are and fly like you were hooked up to hydraulics
Category: Uncategorized
That cruel mistress
Dead for quite some time now
Watching myself flip through the phone
The full out of body-
Awaiting the right moment to take over again
Is it now, I ask myself
Never answers
I soared, laughed, fell, lived and now I rock
And listen discarded as a stone
I’m waiting for the right moment to take over again
I will inject her with pain, shame her for glory days, name her the darkest names
And she will write
Nightly News
Our sun dipped into the lake
Two bright hands sizzling in the water
Affirmations spew out in the resulting steam
Until silence overwhelms us again
I turn to you
To say
I love you more than the spectacular
More than the setting sun
More than its rise
More than this amazing moment we have shared
But all I see are your caramel eyes
Weeping at the destruction of the world
No. 49
His eyes search the silent black sky
Then fall to his feet
Where all the stars have gathered to speak
He wrestles with their language until a kind of Morse code is agreed upon
In the struggle to understand
In the minutes to reach that moment
The magic is lost
A meteor interrupts the scene
the stars murmuring return to their nails
And once again the night is veiled
And once again the night is veiled
No. 48
As the evening of the year draws near
I bend my ear to all the chaos that did appear
In bleak days soaked in fear
And mouth the word peace
Peace in the upcoming year
No. 47
Drowning is often silent
We met on the high road
Each clanging our shields with iron fists
How poorly made were we for the environments
Of school and love and does it matter
Drowning is often silent
We met on the low road
Where man scurries from place to place
Shorn of adjectives, shorn and bleeding, limping past each other with eyes focused ahead never pleasantries to the right nor worries to the foot
Just straight on through
Drowning is often silent
In the mid range you gasp
In the depths are lost
But above the shark exposes his fin and rolls the great black eye of death
Mindfully and blindly biting
No. 46
Rivulets of the twenties
Crisscross my brow
Wrinkling my memories of you
Engraving the few months together into some kind of glue
Residue of a heartbeat we promised never to twain in two
I struck the blow yet reknit in you a truth
No. 45
Aerial antics
The moth flies
A migration of sorts from warmth to heat
From heat to death
As all must age and approach the light
I too become frantic
Until at last I recall
Heaven is home
Home is eternal life
No. 44
But death upon winter’s brow
I can hear him sing
What is it now
What is it now
When the blizzards come boiling in
What is it now
No joyous mirth to greet the skulking skull
But pragmatism’s bleating sound
What is it now
What is it now
For last left the impatience bound!
Sighs the man as light’s jewels removed from heaven’s crown
What is it now
What is it now
No. 43
All my unlit candles light when I read his words
Turbulent and kind, blunt and lying
I wonder if I could steal the buttons from his coat
And return them as a raven
For another word
AbyKittiwake 