Saturday, January 28, 2017
Friday, January 27, 2017
Burn me- strong
When they have been left,
Too long, unattended.
This sound-less template
Beckons my being
In its entirety.
I belong to the order of silence
And all things remained unspoken.
Is this prudent
To open a cascading venue
From a trickle to a whisper
A whine to a wail
I cry in indelible strokes
To any surface that will listen
Any substrate that will welcome
The graceful flow
Of all my deft ability
Crafted carefully, as time wore on.
I am here now
Betwixt the arrow and the gap
Of a precipice known too well.
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Love's voice is loud today
From a wail to a whisper and then
The internal evidence deplores
Begging for a morsel to suck on
To savor, to engorge.
The famine turns wet today
Driving wise understanding- mad.
Smitten by the longing
And the ever present ardent need
To sink tongue, teeth and knees
Deepening the fervor
Of all that yet waits.
Friday, January 13, 2017
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
It was said more than once that some good would come of this shit.
I wouldn't call it 'good'.
But there is more than poison
Yielding from these noxious boulders.
It's in the tone, the tenor, the tenet
A significant shift, undenied;
This pulse projects truth
The tune of which is found, in the sigh and frustration
Of years passed.
I read and realize that the detour from previous miseries
Monday, January 2, 2017
Overgrown with moss, loss and amulets of nature.
Let us brood over discoveries we learned too late
And of love that slipped vigorously away the further we reached.
...and the faster we ran.
No recompense to these great and cataclysmic epiphanies
Inner chiding burns deep into muscle, into tissue, into bone.
Wriggling into yet clean spaces flush with fresh oxygen
Where blood knew to run. In spite of movement,
...we sucked those corners dry.
I follow you armed with your recanting, your reminiscence, your drool.
Your brutally loud but soft cursing, echoes yet, in my vast array
Of collected notes and regaled alchemy.
So fuck you for this drought you drove to my feet
...your weary neck- destroyed.
Wrinkled defeat revealed the more powerful lesson
Perhaps, your intent on its teaching; snipped wings mourn nothing
Taking flight by alternative means. Spurs dug-in, wreaking results
Catapulted into a reasoning that will yield to my liking
...I laud your method, yet.
O bristling soul with airtight pores, locked in desperation
We can yet linger in our atelier of candles, brandy and bruising
Fucking the memory of what we misspent.
Meet me at the precipice of all your lost hopes
...daring to twist towards reform.
I am here, lessons learned, shirking the might of bold demons
Flagrantly pumping optimism out from every limb that yet listens
Articulated in wild caution, to leap when the ledge is highest.
Born to blast blood from banes that wouldn't die
...bowing never to vernacular omission.
In ode to your sorrow, your despair, your regret
Your greyed intellect grew diamonds in this cavern of thought
Misted uncertainty fraught with resignation and defeat
Gained no foothold here; I move ever upwards, to spite the soured lost.
...fucking negatives in my wake.
Strong this day and contemplating long on You.
That steppe that stole you whispers still, one last speck of curiosity
For the wonder and potential of what drew your affection toward Me.
I linger yet in your favor and for all my days into succession
...where X marked the spot on our map.
Sunday, January 1, 2017
I steady the sway of these trade winds
Swirling close to everything I feel.
The swapping of energies to experiences
Awesome change is living nearby
At the ready, always, elbowing up
Gritty choices, to swing in favor of the challenge.
I live to see how much more I can prevail upon.
Near me I see, the landing of sentiments made
Ingrained to my psyche in the most indelible way
The Lone Wolf lives, even if all I have left
Are his words from three years passed.
I am here, at the precipice he spoke of
Doing more than contemplating the 'where to'
"I'll leave words under your door
Under the singing moon
Near the place where your feet pass
Hidden amongst winter holes"
I am here, still, in the choked distance
Coughing up those secrets we donated
To wistful eras and nameless hounds
That roam yet in winter, in solitude- sublime.
Time yet disburses its venomous poison
Eroding the cells that replenish with night
I beckon your voice one last time
Enough to tell me, "I hear you..."
It was not too long to be of any worth.