Flyaway

In memory, of the child

who bounced the ball into the field

and though he searched, he realized it would never return.

While the grass and the earth choked it

the child stopped and turned away for ever.

He moved on — It remained.

Self Cycle Reset

The greatest consequence

a lost soul must conquer

is who he has become.

This terrifying notion

keeps me awake all night

til I forget with untroubled sleep.

And I wake up

some three months later

forgetting that I ever existed.

Cloud Walker

I dance only with colours

but the world's all black and white;

I laugh a lot in dreams,

but I can't say that of real life.

So I dwell on the threshold

of phantasmagorial bliss—

noctambulating my nepheloid nights

with feet rooted in the sun's kiss

Undue Residue

A simulated resonance

echoing in my

ribs.

A wind chime rusting

in a disintegrating

space.

A crow pecking negatives

in the saran-wrapped

sewage—

I leak

and we

drown.

Jalapeño

This morning,

out of boredom more than hunger,

I looked into the cupboard

to find a jar of jalapeños.

Let us not get into the argument

of whether they should be stored

in the cupboard or fridge;

they were unopened

and so warranted no need to be refrigerated

whatever your preference.

Anyway, this inviting jar was labeled

hot and sweet,

and it made me wonder

if I would ever have a jar of jalapeños

to call my own.

Delayed

Death is: delayed
                 until

a difference is made.

A Cat In Hell's Chance

A girl I know, or at least wish I did,

she had a certain way.

She always seemed to look through my skin

when I was out of things to say.

I'd make bland comments about the weather

and ask about her day.

She'd reply with an indifferent sniff

knowing my acting meek.

Her social skills had gained her fans;

my own made me feel weak.

Yet, despite myself, I unsheathed my tongue

and dared myself to speak.

She used well known aphorisms

to ward off romance.

But who condemned the cat to hell

and who gave that cat no chance?
I posed to her these ponderings
and asked her for a dance.
And so it was that philosophy
out-jostled social wit,
and even with the blandest badinage
you can be well read and writ.
There may have been no sunset fandango
but I'm happy with my lit.

Please Take Care This Winter

The fields resemble a landlocked lake,

the roads — a slithering stream-like snake.

An aquaplaning aquarium

that insists we take caution and test our brakes.

But the flow will always come and go,
so why let it force our pace to slow?

We're just another mild hysteria away
from a couple of centimetres of melted snow.

Heaven's Brick

God is busy in cyberspace

defeating his darkest demons.

He designed the interface

but is outdated as Siemens.

So the only hope for global faith

is next decade's nostalgic yearn

when we found greater lasting grit

in the old ways from which we turned.

Endless Oceans

We sail along on a boundless ocean
each ripple a life which ruptures the shoal.
Meager from mass skies, we seem so small
til our gentle sway makes giants of us all.

For when ripples touch, they expand and fill
like our hearts which invite and imbibe love.
From connections, we seem greater from above
and to make great waves just one ripple's enough.

Beyond the surface we hold hidden depths—
memories swim along the ocean floor,
which live on long, in love's sentimental lore
fondly retold through time for evermore.

So take strength in the ever-constant tide,
with each ripple made, our wave will never die.

Plaster

Cold thumbs, like bolts,

pressed into the crevices of my skull

keep my head together;

an expedient fix

for my recurrent rupture.

My tongue is somewhere in my throat

dancing a final waltz,

drunk from the life's it had touched,

thinking not of the hangover that

tomorrow's loneliness brings.

Death—I am no [longer able to survive

this vessel the Lord has intended for me,

give me any]thing else.

New Year's Resolution

The universe becomes differentiated by day and cohesive by night.

Walls convolute into cloud
rather than clear figments of colour and orchestration.

Night is the synthesis, the absolute plan in its final form.

Solidarity of darkness awaits us

when human life has blinked out with no more left to offer.

Why then progress?

To know an end of darkness (a finality) is better, to some,

than to flounder in flux for eons and ages.

People who spend so long searching

just have to look when the corpse of day rises before the eyes—

it raises nightmares because it tells us of what is unification.

Unification is the constancy of dullness.

Unification is such an unsightly concept.

We want a human whole working in tandem together.

That is unsightly.

It denies that the world consists of an autumn:
vivacious leaves scattering in a tempest of close to no significance.

That is why we are taken by sleep in darkness,

because when faced with Unification
we turn away into the splendor of our own minds.

We want the time after the splitting of the tongues.

We are made for divergence.

But now I know that being human, a seeker of divergence,
is an ungodly chore of wasting.

A painter who paints constantly without rest

just to pull his eyes away from the terror of a blank canvas; the horror vacui.

This year I will reach a resolution

that transcends small fallible goals of self-improvement.

I want and will be unified with darkness and maybe a finality will be reached.

I hope.

Specular Glare

The subsided winter sun
shimmers on a wet, winding road.
To my left, the fallen giants
kiss the dewy grounds
on a forest's edge—
and to my right,
a great body of water
consoles the other side
with a soft silent stroke.
The sun's specular glare
threatens to down my drowsy retinas
until the sanguine sunset
ceases the suffering,
reminding me that all is beautiful
whether we start or end our journeys.

Open Door

I wrestled against the whirlwinds
which strained against my every stride.
They sent dark thoughts flying wildly
to convolute and then collide.

The vacant precipitous road
that I must ascend to get back
ran with a drowning deluge
that only amplified my mind's attack.

Yet just as I was about to break
and fight against the storm no more,
my eyes averted to a yard
in which there was an open door.

The door ajar filled me with hope,
it was no entrance to be ignored,
such was its power to entrance—
the threshold for the house of the Lord.

I had walked by that church countless times
but had always noted the door to be closed,
yet I found shelter when I needed it most
and my darkest flaws had been exposed.

Perhaps that door was a sign from God,
or just a fateful union of mind and time in tune,
but if that door was left open for a reason,
the Lord know's I'm thankful—I'll be home soon.

Soul Question

Do we

stir the air 

when we 

leave to 

dispel 

our essence?

An Escape

Ghostly white

prolong the night, 

scare the reality of day

daydreams and nightmares away.

Spineless

Yesterday I bought a new novel.

I considered taking it back

when I saw it had no spine

but then I concluded

neither do I.

Toppled

So beautiful is a tree tumbling over a cliff's edge—

it will soon fall to the sea, but it carries on,

salt waiting to lick its roots, lapping at the soil—

let me count the ways they coil and twirl—

capillaries circling the areole like vines,

dust settling on the grass and back as the wind takes it

soon specks on a pane of glass effaced by the wind.

Dream Life Away

Lately, I've found more meaning

in my dreams

than during the day's dreary blur,

so tell me

why bother to wake up

from a lucid life,

worth much more than living?

Fading into Greyscale

Tangled up in severed threads,

my oldest friends they want me dead.

A rainbow sketched in black and white

drowns my eyes in silver light.

You fill me up with old laments,

a message that I never sent;

a memory that I can't recall,

a tale that's grown a bit too tall.

A Day

Rose-fingered dawn, lay your warm cloth upon me.

Awaken them, deep down the cold billowy sea.

Helios, you shall rise and run over the land;

may your slow movement turn us all back to sand

Now unveil fallow pastures and rivers of gold;

dieing trees soon to be covered in greenish mold

Will this last long enough for me to walk away

and will anyone ever remember that day?

Endless fields unfurl before my eyes;

as a burning sunset slowly dies

Realms of life start falling out of sight;

seas of stars unfold through the night

Across the meadow, now turned to grey,

alone the pallid moonlights lay.

Wanly disclosing the rippling wheat

lying in quickly vanishing heat.

Skull

Fleshy smile,

more hideous

than the skull

that skulks behind.

Please, No Happiness. Just Sleep.

How long

until

I turn it off,

and save those well wishes

for next year's bleary eyes?

PLEASE,

there's NO need to check,

or include me in your HAPPINESS.

I don't want to hear your fireworks

or dance to vapid songs

that will be forgotten

JUST as soon as we all will.

Just let me SLEEP.

The Second Storm

There was a storm in heaven.

The clouds were rearranged.

The sinners blew through open gates,

whilst the angels were scattered and estranged.

The lord could not recall

which souls he intended to keep.
So he handed the nearest man a brush
and in trust told him to sweep.

It was Satan who took the tool

and he did exactly as God had asked.

He swept away all signs of sin,

took his thanks and then unmasked.

The lord was irascible in his wrath

that he had let the devil deceive,

but Satan said "It is you who lied-

I repent and you reward no reprieve!".

And so it was, heaven dared no more clouds

to bring a storm again.

But the fallen angel has righteous reason

to return with flames of rain.

More or Less

I am happy

Less

Than

I am not.

                                                                           (          H          a          p          p           y          ).