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…

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…