Harbinger

Blurred:
Dead eyes
Have not seen
Brilliance in years
And so are slowly sealing

~

Ringing:
Used ears for the penny auction
Note the howling winds–
The ghosts that scream out
Fill all the craggy town’s secrets and
Fill the humanists with first doubts

~

It seems that only I
Am ready for the wrath of Om
I’ve seen enough
I’ve heard enough
It’s time to sleep
And take what comes

Nerves

Nerves …

not made of steel

ban of Rearden metal too –

Nerves

fraying

as the cat

untwines a string

~

Yes or No?

cannot decide

wishing for a stage director

or some person

to blame if it all goes wrong

again

~

But, It’s just me;

Me and trembling hands

Say a silent prayer

Make a cross

Diving in–

Will I,

Sink or float?

Slowly to a Coma

Dizzy
Foggy and somnolent
I am barely breaking daylight

~

Ashes rain
Upon my smooth chest
Microseconds of heat
Then grey dust
Wiped away like a fly whilst dreaming

~

Is it worth it?
Does one even want to know?
Some people don’t;
I am one of them

~

Recalling the smell of
Hospital bed sheets
Nurses chatter and rolling wheels
A nihilistic number
DNR

~

Tis untrue that the goddess knows best
Folly, ’twas to trust her eyes
Perfected to persuading
My tongue reaching
Between her perfumed cleavage
To grab and swallow
The little white and yellow pill

Haiku – Muse

~

losing religion

god sends me poem’s muse

kinky little whore

~

Haiku – Limitless

life within four walls
grandest palace and gardens
ghosts know not whence night

Poem – I Once …

 

I once knew life outside of poems

Now life — my libido

Is pent up to be poured

Ev’ry midnight

Into them

 

–

 

I once knew a girl outside of pictures

Real skin, warm hands

A liveliness

In her eyes

And in the heaving motion

Of the rise and fall of her chest

 

‘T is a pity

That was years ago

 

–

 

I once talked of dreams

Of becoming a somebody

Until

I realized I had some ‘body’

But time was running out

To use it up

 

–

 

I once had a friend

Who was worth more to me

Than seven billion brilliant shining stars

And now,

I have poems

At Midnight

Poem – Me and E.E. Writing In Our Diary at Midnight

all day long

I’m busy

singing songs

and

this

is

one

of them…

–

the ellipsis

is the

searching

gaze

in my eyes

searching

not for diction

but

for

meaning …

and love …

–

whilst i was busy

plotting turns

and spinning

wheels

the calm

came,

and said,

“this really is benign”

–

and i fussed

and

struggled against

the sheets

wrapped

around

my shoulders

and

ankles

and tossed

them

on to

you

imaginary

lass

of an aging

rockstar’s

dream

–

the answer

was to

be

found

in

neither

the instruction

to push

or

to pull

but

simply,

in

a cup

of

warm tea

Midnight Sermon 1

What is holy,
What is sacred,
Is not for men to codify

–

Tis God who is Holy;
He alone,
Who defines what shall be like him;
Are we all not like Him?
Is he not the great Om and Source?
Is he not the Father of all us who art orphans in a flesh and bile blood body?

–

And if in his divinity
He poured out the longings many,
Into our souls
Are they not holy?

–

For it is the posture of the Devil
Who chases away your joy with guilt
Tis he who judges without permission
And we believe!
Condemning ourselves and each other
He is the sole reason Earth is not Heaven

–

He seeks to steal the holiness
That is true to your soul
That resonates in every part of you
He seeks to bind you to a doubtful mind
To dull your divine vibration
To shut off the voice of the one who knows
And make you ignorant of the grander Spirit you have always been

–

To sin then,
Is but one thing to me:
Is to deny your divine nature
And succumb to throwing your true self away

–

Tis,
Denying that God
Who is most perfect
Planted all that is holy within you
Within us–
Before you, I, and the stars came to be

Abandoned to the Deep

Complex
Undertones of venomous hate
Overtones of emotionless hush and ambivalence

–

The people stare from the deck of the boat
As icy white capped waters fill my lungs

–

There would be no rescue
No investigation into my disappearance
They all pledged not to know my name
Nor to ever speak of me
Not even amongst one another

–

“The grand conspiracy”
The holocaust of one
Une histoire silencieux

–

From the deep,
I cannot see thee for
The pressure has crushed my retinas
The scald of ice has stripped my flesh

–

And yet I shall live forever
A ghost, a siren
With salt eroding my throat

–

Though you lie in warm beds on dry land
In your nightmares,
You shall hear my name whispered
With the haunt of God asking,
“Why?”

–

And you will find comfort in a litany of mindless escapes.
In things to buy and sell,
In art to hang,
In wine to critique,
And every Sunday,
In liturgies profanus

–

And the years of your life will seem normal
And my name you’ve almost successfully blotted out
But you will never escape :
The need to sleep

–

Here I await
My scythe
On pillow thine
“Viens…”

Poem – Give and Take

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pray, what do I have to give?

That you do not already have

Collecting dust and mold spores in a trunk in the garage?

–

Please, what can I take?

The richness of my heart is

Lonely.

Inadequate.

–

What is my raison d’etre?

And why does everyone else already know, theirs?

While I bump in the dark;

The bread that won’t rise

Preparing for a long night ahead

A midnight poem and cigarette