Space Black

Black shimmering shining bold,

The stuff of space, wonderment, the untold,

Absorbing, mesmerizing,

The unconscious bleeding, releasing its passionate soul,

 

Black glimmering tidings lo,

To love with haste, befuddlement, its cold,

Scorching, tantalizing,

Unworldliness seeping, sleeping in a black hole,

 

Silver rivulets galaxies fused,

Visions in darkness, remarkable, yet obtuse,

Weightless, patient,

Liberating egos, there goes the junk of broken rules,

 

Silver tidbits fallacies to choose,

Decisions seem harmless, improbable you lose,

Shapeless, latent,

Dilapidating hero, with zero clue to the unspoken dues…

 

 

Dead Nation

The skeletons of the sick decay, bodies dead from living a wretched life,

Skin broken, hair faint and dry, threading bare on a dichotomous continuum.

Watch them as they rattle and shuffle by day, wheeze and leak by night,

Only somehow forgetting to die, as if unaware of something following them.

Degrees of regret catch them as they fade, there beyond out of ageless sight,

Brushed by the tails of hopes that fly, dashed intrigues of salvation sovereign.

Nobody knows where they stay, even though everybody sees their strife,

 So desperate there are no more tears to cry, pities or shames worth bothering.

Stone eyed they glare back with nothing to say, muted by their plight,

Without the killer instinct to even try, their lingering insufferable and ominous.

Caricatures in a forcibly makeshift play, in an otherwise perfect world of delight,

 Like shadows cast out by the sky, their dying just doesn’t seem part of this.

Skeleton In The Mirror

A skeleton man stands before a mirror,

Tall, hunched, dry and empty,

Looking at what he thinks he sees,

A reflection, fleeting, a resemblance,

Something disturbed in the thread, beautifully,

Touched without feeling it shudders,

An echo of a self, a living death, grasping,

Frail, leaving no impression on others,

Through the cracks in the glass, a crooked grin,

Casting an ironic sliver of regret, neglect tasted,

A white shadow that cannot relate, bent,

On a spectrum tipped badly, sometimes lived, ill-fated,

A learned pose that bares the bony shoulders,

A pageant intrigue, morbid at best,

The slim vanity lost in the design of the set,

A tragedy, a bravely dressed mess,

Reality, as it is, for it is, thus,

Bones, hard, white and unpolished,

What they don’t see, it sees, less,

Blindly and yet naively astonished…

 

Lived As Is

Lived as is, is as lived

Strings of ties, ties of strings

Things have come, come have things

Long have felt, felt and longed

 

All is not voiced, a voice is not all

Silence is relieving, relieving is silence

Kindness knows karma, karma is kindness

The devils are beaten, the beaten are devils

 Death creeping on people, people creeping on death

Sleep taken, taken by sleep

Feeling what you think, thinking what you feel

Deep, deep…

Invisible Footprints

Tantalizingly close, a tingle in the spine,

Something lovely and fearful, desired and unimagined,

Wonderful, snow coloured sentiments flaking from the sky,

Looking higher above, at descendants of an Earth,

Ascended beyond whatever they were worth,

Experiences, flailing moments, lost causes and effects,

Changing seasons emphasized in death,

Ancient voices echoing through the bones, they speak,

Passages of the path, ways of the order, you live it,

You live them, loved and alone, you are their crescendo,

The twinkle of the Morning Star, the cheeks of a young one,

A chuckle of an elf, bound in self, expressed nevertheless,

Of being, traipsing wantonly along the path of a thousand,

Thousand invisible footprints, theirs, yours, ours…

Dinner With Cannibals

Mingling with stars of dull ashen cinders, I hide in plain sight with concave shoulders, combed with conviviality splashed with absurdity the laughs stab wounds, nobody sees, nobody dares, we drunk off the punch of convenient lies, we smile as if we sup on the flesh of phoenixes washed down with the very nectar of the gods, a wretched spectacle watched only by ourselves, a throng of cannibals, you dine on what’s mine, I eat your meat, at least we alike like morsels in the belly of a beast…

A Silver Wet Sentiment

Here at the start of a silver wet sentiment aired, pure, like the sheen of morning dew on spider webs, caught and yet free to be the beauty, preying on the tortured who resonate with it, reciprocate, a weakened vibration of a natural inclination, love unwound, bound for an un-collapsible eternity, if ever there was one, one for me, one for you, one for all of us, littering the world with an unusualness that clings to the redesigned refined fabric of reality, there is no small price to pay, the value is in the way it is expressed, given, shared, lived, life…

Seen sight scene

The Magnetic Man

Tall as the very heavens on stilts the Magnetic Man looms,

Infinite, grey, without a finished shine,

Peering from amongst the clouds his perspective tilts and swoons,

At the flittering activity far below the divide,

They are there gay and distracted, wondering at high ebb,

Tantalizing with vantage menace even if it’s playful,

 Dare he join the fray so attractive, blundering also in the web?

Fantasizing through slanted remembrance even if it’s painful,

Gauche and clanging his giant clubbed feet forever rooted,

Like mountainous heaps in the junkyard of a plastic world,

 Debauched and damning, it has snubbed him for he is not suited,

His doubtfulness increased as he tumbles with the fantastic turns,

How can they not see such a hulking mass of a white elephant?

Pasted against the horizon like an indolent artist’s impression,

In another time his massive sulking could be considered quite elegant,

Wasted and not surprising caught in an infinite bastard’s depression…

Hanging on to Hope’s Coat Tails

Holding on to hope’s coat tails,

Dragging though the dust,

Boldly coping while all else fails,

 Candidly out of luck,

In the shadows of something that has not been,

 A deftly forged dream,

In the hallowed nothing of the unseen,

Adeptly bored with the serene,

The open doors of a shut past abandoned,

 Creak from somewhere nearby,

The unspoken laws of trust asked and imagined,

Bleak and rare they apply,

Falsified brave ties of wondered whys,

Echo endlessly with the cries of open eyes,

  Classified faced blind the plundered die,

Letting go messily of lies spoken live,

Searching with a doused lamp in a musty cellar,

They find some singing bones,

Lurking in an underground camp of its crusty dweller,

A kind of thinking is honed,

The shredded rags of fashioned wars divide,

Like cancerous cells deep inside,

Embedded as the passion that pours meanwhile,

 Like hazardous smells of beasts that died,

Years put together like puzzle pieces,

Juxtaposed young and old simultaneously,

Un-preferred yet remembered the brain muscle releases,

All that was supposed clung to the folds ostentatiously,

Sinister harmonies played on strings,

The same ones that animate the characters,

Administered horribly age brings,

Displayed loves decapitated haters,

Peering along the line to the end,

Bobbing heads swaying in the gust,

Appearing gone with time that’s lent,

Sobbing extends allaying the disgust,

A feeble clutch a snatch that faded,

A single and final attempt at decency,

As people touch they catch what they’ve hated,

They mingle suicidal in the effect of leniency,

Ragged and gagged and yet stirring with intent,

As if something could be done about the shells in the nest,

Tagged and bagged still erring and cannot relent,

Just fumbling in the sun compelled by the conquest,

A mistake a being a consequence of existence,

Shapes what happens from here on out,

It takes some freeing from confidence or persistence,

For escapes from caverns of fear or doubt,

Hanging flinching from a thread,

The last steps in the dance,

Mangled contradictions of the living dead,

The past gets lost in chance…