Ages Away

Ages away at future’s end,
bound by timeless memories shared

Touched by waste in a vacant space, the
stuff left over when angels descend,

Given without purpose, I seek thirstily
below the surface

Blindly perceiving shapes behind my
face, doing myself a noble service,

Unknown but undeniably there, a clear
conscious is precisely rare

Stripped of this life’s grudges and
colourful smudges, beyond the need for air,

Taken beyond reasonable measure, love is
a feasible adventure

Journeyed while on journey wisdom comes early, before you’ve known the pleasure,

Living outside circles of ways and
expectations, the dead pass on no recommendations

Sharing in their lostness I’m burdened
by options, to come or to go without lamentation,

Learning through the intellect, thoughts
amount into debt

When seeing becomes freeing, the God of
Karma will come to collect,

Actions cruel behaviours habits abound,
the deeds the fate the lessons amount

Brought into existence from nothing like
mystic gypsies, I return without a sound,

Bloodless, still, ghastly alive,
galvanized by a heart that’s oversized

I hunt for the kill like a nomad with a
bolshie will, trying to feed my mind,

Plagued by the fear of not fearing,
obsessed with the need for meaning

A wary soul that never seems to get old,
grasping at dreams that keep disappearing…


At the distant past’s beginning, basking
with the forgotten still living

 Unfelt is the abundance of my closed inner
substance, like devils with no misgivings,

Taken for what I am, barely looking for
anything on the ground worth a damn,

Analytically deceiving the world beyond
seeing, undoing the indecent obtusely bland,

In denial and known I’m somewhere safe,
with a common guilt vaguely brave

Dressed by death’s blessings and dull
messages, I’m suffering from a nourished age,

Given within a justifiable boundary,
hate is always floundering

Stuck in an unmoving place naivety is
cured late, after I’ve known doubting,

Dying inside spirals of the unforeseen,
the living give counsel through what they have been,

Estranged from their findings I’m free
from deciding, to be or not to be every single deed,

Unlearning through the heart, feelings
become a prospering art

When touching feels like nothing, the
God of Dharma will remind me of what I am not,

Instincts benign sentiments all novelty
perishes, the undone the nameless the soul cherishes

Taken back into decay like something I
cannot say, I leave with all that my spirit embellishes

Bloody, twitching, nicely dead, weighed
by an emptiness inside my head

I wait in a dastardly web for my kill’s
life to ebb, turning my heart to lead,

Uninfected by the love of loving,
oblivious to the denial of what’s coming

An invigorated body fresh with worry,
releasing a reality so real, it’s numbing…