Author: Max Meunier

there is but one

and the sun

she must follow

embracing

what cannot be

known

here we are
collecting

in the cold

this restless night

thoughts have gathered

“kill me now”

for this, i’d rather not

curling into crevices

how ruthless
is a midnight sun

somewhere
in the outskirts

of what scrutiny

stars cry

thank you

for the kick
to the back
of my neck

when you stood
on my head

how i heard
what you said

in that raggedy tent

neath the torrent
of times

nevermore
relevant

than these chains
and their chimes

of a sanity
spent

it would seem
by design

driftless dolls

dangling
from places
of inauspice

slaves
to the vortices

and heaven’s hollow void

disparity imploding

by the dire dearth
of devices insidious

insatiably sedulous

do they suffer so

and how

the stoic will stumble

into streams of yore

and yet
we are

home
is where you hang
yourself

a shelf
to hold your hopes and dreams

a hole
to hide
your darkest truths

a show
that ne’er is
what it seems

a rope
e’er tethered
to the past

a broken window
to the morrow

sold as scenes
of happiness

through secrets
of an untold sorrow

the devil
who we know so well

the harbinger
of dread and gloom

where will we have left
to go

once its façade
apprises ruin

 

as all suns spiral
into dust

the driftless sand
turns vitreous

melting
into molten mire

of cataclysmic cries
heard passive

mass of the morass
miasmic

swallowed
by the naked eye

reflective of the roving truths

our semblance
bears inside

where narrative
spares none

for it is here
that we must make our peace

behold the vision
ne’er beholden

watch its light
bend into prism

let no pride
build prison walls

not privy to the pain unseen

nothing is as blinding
as the bleakness
of the mind forsworn

for love is won

with wakeful eyes
and heart supine

pray heed the moral
etched in time

said spun
by loom
of Somnus’ station

Captain Picard has engaged my frail heart
with fervid impassion not e’er misbegotten
like a Soongian chip of emotive impart
breathing feelings of life into Lore long forgotten

if only we were like Darmok and Jalad
at Tenagra, i’d smite that beast with Picard’s rod
God knows, his lithe bod
scarcely draped in a form-fitting tunic from Risa
intensates his unit

i pray that a probe of Parvenium provenance
transports us both to an exile of consciousness
i could then bask in Jean Luc’s bare-skinned countenance
sans sordid scenes sorted out in the holodeck

unloquaciously dorbs as Locutus of Borg
he can make any rogue planetoid fashion hunky
with nary an effort, he’s always en vogue
“stop looking at me like i’m some kind of junkie!”

ok, i admit, i’m addicted to J.L.P.
e’er by the merited flair of his speech…
the essence of interdimensional fantasy
Temporal Prime Directives does he breach

tell Wesley he best be forestalling his mother
i know that she’s plotting a course to his heart
her past romance with Picard makes me not trust her
she’s been lusting after him right from the start

for i’ve plans to escort the Captain to Corsica
softly caressing him all through the night
i fear she might feign diagnoses to hold us up
should this occur, it will end in a fight

i do not take kindly to those interfering
especially “Dancing Doctors” with red hair
why can’t we bring back Commander Pulaski
i’d rather not worry about such affairs

of course, that’s not possible, um, like, have you seen him?
his presence alone makes my galaxy spiral
and it’s not just me, it’s the whole federation
even amongst Romulans, Picard has gone viral

i must find a way to curtail all those thirsty freaks
flaunting their wiles with such flagrant abandon
treading the path leading to my sweet Captain’s cheeks
wait till they meet my new disruptor cannon

but first, we must ban using roll-out pianos
poor Daren will have to find some other way
as for Kamala and Vash, they can hit the road
Jean Luc’s duties will not be led astray

Riker will have to step in, let him fill the hole
-self-styled cosmic lotharian flake-
i cannot fathom for him a more fitting role
straddling chairs like a Tinder first date

bravado like that could not be less befitting
when Captain Picard is the man at the helm
his crew can only be described as a pity
were he not Picard, he would be overwhelmed

like when the Borg queen drops in for a quick “visit”
that cyber-tramp best keep her tongue to herself
just tell her it’s futile then slip her Hugh’s digits
and stick her right back on the Collective’s shelf

as for uninvited guests, god forbid, Q appear
Lusting obsessively over Picard
granted, Jean Luc has a rather taut derrière
nonetheless, my stake has claimed that backyard

i know i’m not tripping
nor losing my sanity
envious, paranoid, ‘tis quite the contrary…
i once saw the Crystalline Entity ogle him!
see for yourself
it’s all there in my diary

Worf better watch it
with his “Klingon Guile”
please, like we haven’t heard that in… an hour?
and i’ll have no part of that Counselor Troi
and her dubious Betazoid ~empathic~ “powers”
the Captain’s emotions are not just a playtoy
for her and her mother, Lxawana to trifle with
though, to be fair,
well, i kinda be likin’ dat
FINE! i love Lxawana!
so there!

and boi, Geordie better look out
cause i’m onto his fraudulent visor he hides behind spying
on my property, yes, you heard me, MY CAPTAIN
think about it, have you heard back from Ensign Ro?
That’s what i thought, let’s just say, she got “caught” up
inside an eternal temporal anomaly
not that you heard that from me…

so perhaps, it is best if i did stay my tongue
after all, it’s foremost job is licking Picard…
but more on that later, at present, it’s time to run to “make it so” with him under the stars

ere shall i draw
that final breath

each day
a death
is born

awakened
from the fragments
of an old familiar effigy

its torment does reprise

the contrast
from what i have felt
to what i must now feel

evokes a revelation
so surreal
words are left wanting

languishing
amid its starkness
darkness lingers nigh

as i submit
to this insidious impaling
of my heart

apart from any semblance
of the soul
that stormed the isle

knowledge can be such
that it becomes a crux of paradox
impairing our perceptive predilections
like an opiate

sometimes, it is preferable
to put the book down, shed our skin
and frolick in the freedom
once precedent to our wit

ere the omnipresence
of our existential burdens
depression did lay dormant
and our essence, innocent

soon we find the words
as to articulate expression
eloquently waxing
on our states of discontent

anguish and despair
may pave the path to our enlightenment
through endless eras do we toil
transposing pain to wisdom

peace of mind comes at a price
which knows no preparation
it seems once it is earned
our shells surrender to the sun

one such truth retained
within the fragments of forbearance
urges us to ne’er forget
to forge a heart most lithe

for if we are to overstate
the aspect of our relevance
we forsake our only stake
in living this, one life

this frigid air licks my spine

the unrelenting concrete siphons my only warmth

the hour rests just before dawn

today is the day

maybe the last

i will not be controlled.

if we cannot listen

nothing will be heard

until those words
transpose into perpetuity

forever ringing tragic
in our deafened ear