River

As we see our landscapes slowly pass beyond the reeds that line these gradually eroding banks, I hear all the melodies whispering through the many mouths that are born to whisper what beyond the primal abstracts of need can never be sung, though distinguishable sounds illuminate our world with the mysterious wonder of shadows.

This Rotten Sonnet

Behind the veil of love lies a hatred willing to apprehend all that devours the self longing for separation, reluctantly self annihilating, grasping hard and pouncing back again from the shadows like an untamed animal.

Torn between gluttony and starvation, tottering on the ambiguous wires of social protocol, we command the parts expected, carefully motionful and concealing of corruptable truths, tripping on the undulations of indifference beneath our feet, smiling hard and punching low whistled, memorial memories far from the here and now, willingly trapped by the strange protectorates of loss and singing hopeful songs of the impossible.

Repeater

Every second goes
And so it does,
Even in the pauses
Of thought and word
Scrawled to mark
A relentless deception
Of sand built memorials.
Their rein of decay.

It passes this time,
That time,
All time always,
And so it does,
So it goes
A tick in silence,
Every second
And so it does,
Paused in thought
A word scrawled to mark
This linear betrayal
These memorials
To their collapse.

It passes, this time,
That time,
All time always
Masterful refuge,
Artifice,
Mute friend,
Enemy.

Crossing The Rubicon

I climbed a tree just the other day,
With my special, climbing feet on.
Rising higher as I swallowed
Each branch and back out again,
Below me, with my special climbing end.

I am a conduit
And the world
Travels through me.
It digests me as I digest it.
Breaths me as I breath it.
In and out, back out
And in again.

I'm so wrapped up in this climbing,
Focused on the careful swallowing
Of inherently, branchlike, intricacy,
I fail to realize what day it is
And find myself atop of a lampost
Instead of an Oak.
And almost completely
Myself digested.

The Tune

Twisting,
Involuntary.
Administered,
Empowered,
Pro -
duced.

You have the bodies,
Sea of dancers.
Fools?

Maybe damned,
Blind and foolish,
Grooved minions,
Ecstatic,
Pseudo shamanic,
Shadow characters
On this crafted stage.

'Here we are now...'
Chorus lined,
Glorious lifers,
Orgasmic,
Orgiastic,
Organic,
Organizers,
Organized.

Killing, with words

True love is a beast when named.
Slipping through fingers,
An unbridled Colt,
Holding to ransom
With a shadow,
Wayning,
An ebb like unmorphiated pain.

Cheese

For the child of Bovines,
There is offered from the slowly leaking,
Timeless offering of nurture
A mammalian fluid as a starter in life and for whom,
It seems,
Amongst us higher form of primate
Not enough that we have our own brew
For anything else but its pure intent.
Cheese, so close to home would be a catastrophe,
Though its said, undoubtedly to have to been tried.