Sunday, July 29, 2012


Away, I shift away and outwards
Away from my crutch
I untie all tethers, lunging upwards
Looking clearly into this unfocused focal
Damaging forever,
The will to travel back.

This is not one night off,
This is the now and never
The irrevocable divergence of 'enough'
Landing nowhere but here
In a column of trust that I built
Forever ago-
When the world was yet young.

A stumbled path of misshapen steps
Leading forward, towards my earned history
Debacle's and the deliquescing of humid concerns
I melt along with those well worn shoes
Heels of which are grated bare-
Raw enough, my liking.

Bitten in a memory,
Twine tied vociferously, layers of memory protrude
This is a gastric bypass of yesteryear's ingestion
Looking to blow without neglected periphery's being effected.
I loathe the acknowledgements
Cathartic though they be,
Progression in aggression is blatantly effective.

The boxing gloves are a part of me now
I've been wearing them since birth.
In the clearing I wish to see a new fighter
Carrying only one reminder;
These scars were earned and loved
For had there been an absence of action-
I'd of earned nothing but complacency,
A fate too poor for even the pauper.

Saturday, July 28, 2012


Slipped in through a weakened spot in the lining
The slow queue of all that gathers, grows timid in its impatience.

Trek-in, Trek-out.

Simplicity is a fuckin' field mine
Who says perception is deluded?
Mind frame has long been spoilt
That ragin' brat of indecision wails on
Burrowing into the night
Slobber-driven and weak.
Obliterate, penetrate, ameliorate
I must short-circuit the thousand ears I have grown
Apply deafness to the squeaky wheels of ignorance
They seek to delay and derail even the minuscule
My crippled progress means nothing now,
Too hog-tied in my own coagulated waste.

..and I crave normal...
Though the definition of which lies dormant to my sense
A knowledge I'd die painfully to gain
Restricted still by my own indifference.
I am... nonsense.
I am a stagnating fuck-up of consequences
Drivelling in the perfection of all that I fucked-off.

Until the mood swings-
Where I am yet again, no longer the victim to be tied,
But the benevolent purveyor of secrets
That long to be whispered and learned...



I'm on my way.

Monday, July 23, 2012

...that I'm not.

I am vinegar and water.
An exotic windowpane with domestic reflection.
They raised me this way, to think without color
The color of my own skin.
Forced prejudice meant nothing
I learned all I needed
In everything they didn't say.
The hue of the morning is light
My primary utterance- laughter
A gift comes along without warning
The reception of which, guarantee's value.
I smile in my new born day
Thankful for all I don't see
And yes, even for what I have not yet felt-
Touched, or taken.
Where there is mystery, there is love
Those secrets yet revealed hold a 'yes'
To every misunderstood notion that I am
Someone that I'm not.
Confusion thrusts those particles up
From the floor, my countenance hastens
Anchored in by my responsibilities
That ripcord of safety- secure.
For the 'second guessing' comes in handy,
You see.

I am a dual-action pistol,
Firing twice to get the job done
Failing now would blister my landing, and if
I am to fall, I will fall softly
Onto a plateau of care built through trust.
Trust that while walking through this life
I chose wisely when it came to the banter of my brain
That within these virtual hugs
There grows respect and reverence
For all we have yet to discover.

This is no Dress Rehearsal.

Nervous thoughts, nervous fingers
There is caffeine in my mind.
I am weary from self-consolation
Apparently, it's working less
Soon, inadequacies will swallow me whole.
Swallow me hole. Hole. Holed.
Who is hearing this soliloquy
This pantomime of failure is a joke
I wear no make-up while performing,
But clearly the costume is transparent
I am the only theme that moans.
Thematic despondency-disgusting.

Saturday, July 21, 2012


Imbued, candlelit text
Sharpening fervor, the darker the night
I comb away the tangle of the day
Smooth potential now revealed.
My pen is weightless, fueled by a flow
That ages each day as I do.
Within the sonnet there is a song and
Two words carry the meaning of many
Multitudinous insinuation as the eyes roam East.

Unblemished scroll unfolding neath malleable script
Naked eyelashes flutter as vision is revered;
That lense holds understanding that need not speak
And wouldn't, if not the ear demand its own due.
There is perfection in uncorrected dictation
I want to ease into the meaning of thoughts that
Must be read and ingested by virtue of true arrival
Authenticity has one opportunity to present itself

I will be docent to this time; truthful in context
Meaning will metamorphosize with mood,
May it remain protected by the unwavering ideal
That, 'To edit is to spoil'...

Friday, July 20, 2012


Undertone is more a whisper than a scent
Warm into the quiet night, ears...cuddling
Sound vibrating softly, delivery need no immunity
Here in the cushion of Privacy, this world bears no threat.
Impugnity from all noise, this quiet is my craving
My solitude giving birth to new light.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

...without leverage...

There is mystery that lives within memories, they teach us to develop keener senses
To explore soft meanderings down pathways that branched off and away from all we never knew
What more in life can we say has pleasured us beyond the marriage of body & soul?
It is within ourselves that the finest match be made; to take what we have known into refinement.

I clambor in thought, freed from yesterday
In time I fell away from such deeply-rooted attachment
To linger in the arms of memory must be done in slight moderation
I grow weak with the faint reminders of aged caress.

There was a time when 'wild' made the most sense
When the fusion of who we were demanded we become Generals to the army of our bodies
A new machine in my youth, strong in my motion,
Yet lacking in wisdom; of course, that is the very Nature of the Beast.

Think not to assume that in wandering away from such reality, you'd be remiss
For understanding who we were within the birth of 'responsibility' we are akin to many things
I see my shadowed actions from that time and long to console my own haste
Lift free from that past, all the dreaded hope I followed, kissing still- the hope for others.

In twenty years time I have developed keen sense to memory and the well-oiled muscle of wisdom
On the brink of 40, I find rapture in everything that eludes me
For I have come to understand a new beast, the nature of which is ever-so-slight and yet-
Yields power unlike any other...

Tomorrow is a vague mystery, I rest the night prior in the event I may earn its subtle awareness.
I am aging in a way that I find love among my own humanity and rest within that freedom
Contained are the many voices of want & need, aching to be relieved within their confinement-
They stand tall without tilt; virile and 'conditioned'.

I am kept at bay for many damn good reasons, responsibility at the forefront.
I played hard in my beginning, well aware that actions invoke many-layered consequences.
I'd give nothing to trade my time already spent, for the visceral memories that yet excite & ejaculate
Reverberating for years on end; in infamy, love and quiet consolation.

It is that very yesterday, filled with buxom love and unrelenting forces
That granted me the tools to inhale and discover every elusive answer to be milked
From tissue that bowed and stretched and even, ever-balked without tearing.
I have conformed to all range of emotion and fell back in line with the need to continue, unbroken.

Uncertainty; archaic and unwanted. I take the hand of all I am yet to encounter
Firm, with a grip that I am willing to toil to great length to gain control of, for I have had my fun
Youth was meant to be squandered, exhausted, enraptured and even abused...
Under the moon of immaturity, we gained our hindsight; the very 'trial & error' we now wield.

I march forward with undetectable footsteps, elusive as the honeybee's wish to go uninterrupted
The pollination of my own dreams shall reveal themselves when articulation seeks a presence; Known.
The Cosmos may demand in its own voluminous understanding, that all 'quality' coasts
Relaxed in its own omniscience.

I am but a laborer of my own understanding, to be thrown askew of that concept-
Detrimental. I write to reiterate to myself, all that I understand and on a daily basis- metamorphosis
Rolling with the punches has never been made more easy than to give slack where it is due.
Understanding is transient in its meaning, conforming to that alone? The very point in life.

Falling victim to the beguilement of our own arrogance and ego is a foolish face-plant
We are older now and though the lustre of years has conditioned us to 'know better'
'Best ye have it within ye, to remain childlike in the affliction of love'
For to love when love burns brightest is to also roam free from the fear of all that ends.

Love without risk is pointless... A dam without leverage seeks nothing
And so it remains futile... weightless... dead.
I wish to come alive in my own understanding; and so I shall
Set free from all boundary that once held meaning and now- holds nothing.

Gentle is the wind that floats about naked shoulders, aware of its unclothed state and still smiling
Free from the tyranny of society and the break from all that that implies...

Friday, July 13, 2012


There is a spilling of ink in every thought, unnoticed.
If I don't give myself due, what is the use of understanding?

Neglect is a tissue made for tears;
One that floats dry, devoid of purpose

Moisture was meant to milk itself-
...and so, I allow it.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Lessons Learned.

There is a smooth inscription living alongside hindsight
Within the trance of foolishness, will it often go unnoticed
The backlog of so many moments before, is weighed down significantly
By superficial dilemma; all of which lie dormant, to be risen only if-
The psyche shall see it fit to remind us of past folly.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

In a Time...

What is the motivation behind meaning...?
What can be said of thoughts that go unheard?
The naked eye is unabashed in its own free reigning field
Left to nothing but the scent of it's own desires,
Floribunda- unknown to man.

Rapture is a formidable noun when one defines without boundary,
The length of their own needs.
Not in tune with what may be out there, in the great wide open of-
The Human Race.
But instead, what we are made of; as defined by what it is we think we need.

Strip the carcass of feeling and we are left dead
Devoid of the purest form of magic known to man- Touch.
The warmed hand of care can turn a hardwood surface into cooled lava
Melting slowly, 'neath limbs that lack the foresight to wait until proper 'means' arrive
The admiration of 'impulse' grows in value, along with every grey hair that I call my own.

To explore my thoughts without relief, I challenge years of self-made taste
Refined in the ache of escalating energy that seeks exit, contained further by the absence of action.
I choose to challenge those decades past; where my musing granted respite from the body's voice
When I was comfortable to wallow in lust without defining which flavors triggered what
Causing habit-forming inclinations that once the vibrating muscles relaxed, woe befell me.

There is yet a lifetime to be lived now that age has defined with conviction, what truly consoles
I seek 'myself' to satisfy a heart that beats in moderation now, years after calming storms of love
A tempest I once knew has left his mark; indelible. To which I pay continual homage
I took a trade from his wrath, gaining valuable ground with every step I walked, away from his heat.
No matter how far or away from this life he has flown, he yet lives within me, and I in him.

I need no more than the prudent wish to remain open to life; to live with organs that prosper
In health I travel, veins flowing with equal force to places where mature feeling lie in wait
There is no guarantee of tomorrow, held in yesterdays earned behaviour,
There is only 'now', a place where I can coast in comfort, safe within my own resolve.
...and yet, for all my contemplation... I am aware.

Aware that 'round every bend there lives tomorrow; a window protected by insight
To see what lies before me and feel capable to lift and push, up-up and away
Into the day that wants 'life' with each moment, up further into a night-
That loathes the lonely but prevails in spite of its own distance
The stars create friction with my heart and again- I am alive within my own purpose.

I am set free in my own maturity, a lifestyle earned through many years of trial and error
Vindicated by the ever-constant indulgence of exactly when to know what mood is appropriate
In a time like- Now.

Sunday, July 8, 2012


Organic accumulation builds between us.
The spontaneity of our rapport gives birth to legions of
Unspoken sentences, perfervid and pure.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012


Slowly fallen away, encased still to thicker degrees
Warmed by latest events, sense of self is refining
I need the gentle tapping on my hide-
It sets free those jailed assumptions that lurk
Seeking to fuck me.

Shoulders that strain beneath stoic indifference
I know the substrates that fall in line-
Layer after layer of invisible intrusion
The gossip of my fear-bound willingness is
Loud & overbearing...

I want to kill hesitation
I want to suffocate reservation
I wish to drown limitation
and divorce in solemn commitment-
The woe of the 'judged'.

Knotted veins continually choke
There is purpose in all that past offense
The balancing out of yesteryear will penetrate my tendons
My thickened skin- elasticized
Ready for ALL, 'wear & tear'.

I am yesterday: once wept and forgiven
Though the memory I hold now vibrates in freed relief
I am today too, standing tall in sporadic confidence
High on the prospects of the wish to 'move on'
Broken: behind me, repaired in understanding.

I am tomorrow, filled with promise; North & ever searching
I have sterilized all hidden paths that long to ensnare my progress
For after all, the 'sense of self' can be that rusty blade, craving to poison
My weakness is a part of me, understood and given due
Learned in detail, four decades worth of study

I am alive in the Now, knee-deep in my psyche
Examining the simple details of the beauty in life
The smile of my child, a curly ponytail, and
The profound happiness of a Popsicle in the Summertime
Soft & easy, warm, continual...