Mystery Market

Wearing the black of a sea traversing merchant,

I stand in a square with nothing but sums on my mind,

Beyond the spent fortunes of days as a servant,

One eye cast low and long for those riches men can’t hide,

My wares an assortment to enchant the purest beasts,

Of a grade to quench even the swelling thirsting of the earth,

From that place where the Moon’s Shadow sleeps,

Back to the sharpened edge of the unfinished dream I prefer,

Customers with strange customs oblige with desire,

Without which their manner would be most uncommon,

A need in any world comes full circle and never expires,

Just as life takes every drop of blood without ever stopping,

I offer them not only what they want but what their made for,

Something in the abstract a taste that leaves a quaking tingle,

Never a handshake or deep embrace while there is a world to explore,

A trade at fair price with the devil in the details,

A mark on the soul is a game target for the burning third eye,

When beating hearts clash with swords honour pales,

Blackened hammers with dull minds grace surely dies,

Quick fingers change destinies and flatter with humour,

A trick not acknowledged is still a lesson even far from the seas,

What you now have will eternally hold you in stupor,

What I now have you will one day beg for on your knees…

 

Black Mist Woods

The hood of my long cloak casts a shadow on my face,

My eyes down cast, staring at the ground as if wishing it away,

But the carpet of dead leaves, insect bones, and moist earth,

Are as real as the dreams I didn’t ask to be there,

This side of the world is mine by design,

I pray to it with silence and it hears me through the torment,

The paths from here are many, tangled and inviting,

In the same way that a ghost’s hand might be said to be welcoming,

I’m coming some time just give me one more chance,

The first step like crossing a starving chasm with a black hunger,

My still roots burn holes through hell,

I cannot leave until I understand the face of danger,

Looked upon it as if in anticipation of a noncommittal kiss,

But how am I to know what is so far from the why,

Forever will one day see me bleed through my bark,

Will it be here amongst others that would be like me,

Or will it be beyond these woods where misty entanglement leads,

I go against my very nature by allowing thoughts to wander,

They may never return,

Leaving me to be what I think I am,

But without them I can only feel I am,

Feel I am here,

And that is all that matters,

For even over there,

If I feel,

Then I know I’m still here…

tr-igg-ere-d

smudged thumb print on the second last petal

imprint of a feeling that hungered

snap back with the stinging as the red shows

a wounded flower so pretty in its pose

still pretty with only one hope left

clinging to the base of its blossom with cloying grandeur

at least it thinks

at least it continues to define the whole

apart from the stem

the others sigh green

why always this one

always the last one born

so pretty can’t you see

its edges catch reflecting raindrops

with swirling smiles from the sun

moon

and stars

it could command the galaxies this one

leaving four fingered prints on their lenses

making them so giddy they’d spill their soil

exposing all routes

there would be truth in that

a way at the very least

to make its detachment

seem

alright

Walking

“How long have we been walking?” I asked turning back into the fuggy darkness.

There was no response, just the faint sound of a branch breaking in the undergrowth as if the silence were furtively retreating.

I blew warm air on my gloved hands and looked at them with irritation as if it were their fault they couldn’t stay warm.

Looking down at my own footprints in the cold mud, and then all around me as if in disbelief, I wondered who I had been directing my question to.

Was I thinking that out loud or did I really think somebody was here?

Surely there was somebody just here, somebody who had come all this way with me in these conditions, otherwise how could I have done it alone?

The answer to that question quickly became irrelevant as I now started considering where exactly I was and the new question was “where the heck am I?”

This time I was sane enough to think it in my head although it seemed loud enough in there to startle me a little.

Or maybe it was the slight fear that I had to ask the question in the first place that startled me.

What a bother I am in, surely.

 

Steel

Faced a world of clattering steel have I,

Kissed the horrors that couldn’t let me die,

Bonded with curses that pierced my roving eye,

Upon a powdery bed of bones my heart’s stifled cry,

Why?

I swing a dastardly weapon with a thirsty edge,

Wooing enemies with long toothed grins into my bed,

The sound of thunder and drums booms flirting with the end,

It was mine long before theirs oh if I could only smile and pretend,

And then?

Decimation would surely come,

The winged creatures would plummet from above,

Into the subliminal wilderness tumbling from my shove,

Lying in a shallow grave with the others I’ll lick my wounds when I’m done,

What of love?

15:30 Cup of Tea

Once the lid lifts the emptiness can but escape…

The essence rises disappearing into the senses,

I’m open…

Boiled to perfection by waters that cleanse as a matter of decency,

This particular pot is for contemplation,

Is this me?

Hello…

A cupful for us both then, well met I’d say,

No sugary vagaries we’re natural in this madness,

Been at this tea party before,

Just not so with such company…

And not ever with this wild special blend,

It has me gingerly reaching,

Towards the light…but I am so alive…

Feeling,

The inside of a burnt black pot,

What an odd place to hide?

No more,

You too said so, promised on your lips,

That taste is bewitching, like cinnamon sprinkled childhood,

A whole forest on my tongue, the little leaves rustle…

In that last sip there they are,

Looking like they want to be rescued,

And I would oblige them if I wasn’t in such fine company,

They can wait, I say and I agree too…

My needs are clear…

From now on, you all pay for your own coffee…

Rabbit Eyes

I

The wind has been whistling beneath my feet,

Tickling me into shivers as I chase mine out in the street,

I don’t look too far nor stray in any away,

But I feel my wonder canter wherever my disposition will play,

I roam with unmeasured intent like a falling leaf,

Just staying afloat waiting for the down to bring relief,

Since I’ve left my tree I’ve lived each night for each day,

Pulling the strings with the crystalized blotches on display…

II

It feels like I need keys to hark back to,

Keys to open me up to what they say true,

These flittering things that protest to know me,

As they hold on snugly and reduce me to what I used to be,

It actually seems that changing tides will not wash through,

With time slowly drowning maybe they have only made me see askew,

Through the haziness of the bubbles that captured the dreams I set free,

The ones I was so sure that if I pursued on my own would fill me with glee…

III

They riddle me with shame as they burn in my heart,

They ridicule me in blame when I don’t learn and fall apart,

I saw it in those Rabbit Eyes as we met so unexpectedly while crossing,

My brother’s heroin bent instincts were to flee without stopping,

But love haunts the wicks in the depths of his soul shaft,

Just as I am haunted by his face I see on those lost,

Ambling vagrants outside in the wind tossing,

Wondering if any of this is worth stopping…