Someone Remind Me

Someday I’d like to see some
Tragic testimony of the chaos I hear about
Happen right before my eyes.

A momentary disturbance,
Sudden, unforeseen,
Make me jump, flinch,
Give me a rightful scare,
Make me cautious and beware,
Conscious of the potential
I’ve long disregarded.

Yes I’d like to see a car smash
Into another yet,
Metal bent in shapes far
From its maker's intent;
A brilliant flash from the sky
Strike upon this vulnerable earth,
Upon something of real worth.

And please don’t think me sick
For this strange longing of mine,
I promise you I have heart and spine,
Somewhere inside…

I only feel I must be reminded,
Renewed, refreshed of
The illusion that my world
Is so nice and neat;
I’d think it worthy to experience
True desperation’s heat,
To be handed total and utter defeat,
If only to give me some sort twisted hope.

Yes, please remind me, someone,
That this world is still real.

Running Water

She's haunting me alive,
her ghost across these miles finds me in my sleep
to rip me away from idleness.
I don't know where she came from,
I don't know why she's here,
I don't know where she wants me to go.

They say running water expels clinging souls.

Tonight the procession goes to the spirits
of light and rain, lords of continuity
outside the walls she helped us build.

They live in a beautiful garden, a faerie ring
where nobody goes alone with their body
and no one comes out alone in their mind

a beautiful place, a liminal place,
a death room
within the space of stone
and brine

It's our ancestral dwelling,
the heroic ring
I deliver her for inquisition

“What do you want from me?” I ask,
and she tortures my confession out

“You were the Muse I denied
firstborn ambitions
advancement always away I hoped
until you left me in the wilderness
to find a trail that led
from desert to sea.”

Her airy form bows dead eyes
and nods at me

“I am the Muse you denied,
I taught you passion and ire.
Fulfill what you promised yourself:
your exit is paved by my breath, it lies.”

The Darkest Hour Precedes the Dawn

Motionless I lie, lest I cause a disturbance.
Perfectly still, my existence flirts with an abyss,
My perception with one lone silhouette of an oak
And the inexorable ticking of an unruly clock.

The weightless darkness is suffocating, exhilarating.
That one ray senses my presence, or that of another;
It senses life, it senses breath, a pulse, a will to survive.
It senses pupils dilating, focusing on shadows of its own making.

Perhaps it even senses a presence amongst the shadows
Or emerging from my imagination, I never can tell.
And with the slightest flicker a being is born.
There he stands, perpetually ephemeral.

Such terror, such ecstasy,
As the darkness encloses him and me.

Live the Dream

Pale sweat

A flash of sheets,

I shoot up,

And there is the fan,

Humming and hovering,

Staring down at me.

I begin to laugh.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

I am, again, quite

Alone.

Alone,

In a thick tangle,

Disoriented in dense wilderness.

I am trapped

Trapped by fear,

Struggling in a prison of vines,

A jail cell jungle

falling

deep

below where I only hear a faint chopping

Parachutes

A stumbled upon magnificence,
Is that of parachutes.

Its a study of relativity, really.

For those holding on to the parachute
It must be quite exhilirating,
Knowing you are flying
Downwards, kept alive
By something you hope to have controlled.

For the audience, myself, it was
Ever so still
Like leaves falling in an autumn wind
But instead, human lives
Each a mystery, deciding to
Plummet, and suspend.

I wish to fall
and fly
and let go
without fear of whats above
or below

And I envy parachutes.

Foggy Nights

Foggy nights are peculiar things;
They're shady and hidden and
Full of sulking mystery.

Feeble lights pull back the
Silky curtain but give way
To darkness yet.

I've been searching here for
Quite some time,
Peeking behind the jagged
Ridges of damp rocks,
Studying the faces of filthy flowers
That stare right back at me.

They smile at my intrigue and
I know not why.

And in my frustration with these
Pesky plants it dons on me that
Perhaps, perhaps I am not lost at all.

I'm just dancing in my lunacy
Round and round the rhythms
Of insanity that are pulsing through my brain;
A wonderfully wicked waltz within a finer life.

And that leaves the whole world
Not spinning about my head,
But rather spinning in it.