Author: Max Meunier

8bit synth-wielding cat who does certain things or does not* *context in content
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How Long Is A Mile?

a dismal gloom blares
in the distance
of concrete the corridors cry
gnashing with sinuous steel
stolen from the vacuum of midnight erosion

it is now as it was then
a tenuous terror entranced
beyond the circumstance of thought
barreling down outstretched roads of unknown ending
a home blighted nomadic with static fluoresce
abuzz with abundant abandon

each night anew
feeding silver to shiver
amid layered squalor shown blind to bright eyes
left to devices unfit for adorning
fetid filth teemed with ambiguities

but stranger things still filled my head as i stood
behind the partition of gold lamé dinge
alone like a stone world of door tethered drifters
obscured by their numbers
familiar yet foreign

rasping with roars of abrupt deconstructing
and hearts worn by prophets of apathy’s idle
but pray not awaken
the ire composed of their hijacked illusion

when truant frontiers promised fears
poised to fade
from days faster
than words would beam hope
inside daydreams of youth

disaster had fled with indignance
in woven distortions
unspooling in blood
where conifers blurred
in absurdity
dust filled my head
with a sweet symphonic suite
still assuring that we are not there yet

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2 am

two in the morning
the hour of unmooring
and sordid self-sanctified litanies of lament

a restless contortion condemned
to weak flesh
And pensive delusions
of dreams death and somnolence
vying for conquest compliant
in courtship of heaven’s duress

with static distortion
the cries since impending
have rendered the dawn sempiternally unsound
as whispers she once left
to toil within
the tempest eye
where the star’s
lonesome hearts dwell
on waves of her lips
wisps of wistful prose
haunting perception
felled cowardice kisses
transmuted

adrift between boundaries
of bold indecision
dare told by none
writhing long
in scorching depths
arriving at naught
but poise fraught with a bold thought

to win the morn

a toll was then taken
far greater than fate
inundating our soul

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Ego Trumps All

to share upon this vulgar pittance
beholding the avarice emboldened hence
is all too appalling
and calls for impaling
those of impudent partisan offense

pathology virulent of veiled reverie
begets naught but apathy’s reign of contempt
as death trickles down
of loss so profound
appearing perfunctory in its descent

a madness has stricken the tenuous hearts
with lichen tinged artifice haunting closed minds
the flesh disavowed
such feverish cow
forsaking for no sake but wastrel design

and squander they will with such lack of foresight
to plunder the will of humanity’s fight
whose plight turned so grave
all life spurned to save
malignance indignant of our human rights

stripped of our own person, to verse, we must take
eclipsing the truth of our sanity’s wake
as such to arrive
where none shall e’er thrive
diseased by a greed that can never be slaked

alas, i implore thee, with feeling once more
regale us with narratives slighting succor
for ego trumps all
behind fortified walls
and calls heard to defend the rich from the poor

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Stowed Amid A Solstice Dream

end this e’er incessant stream
of penance prying open seams
with hypervigilance unspoken
stowed amid a solstice dream

halt this hallowed grand illusion
bending will with blind intrude
bleeding onto open canvas
tapestries of hope construed

stay thy tongue of saintly affect
straying from each painted breath
brushing bold projections thrust
beyond the surface tension’s depth

swallow all the seas between us
stinging erstwhile tears of trust
lost in sallow shores born waning
scars implore fomenting rust

sink into the brink of madness
tingling impingent caress
ere we held this cursed congress
acquiescing fear’s duress

in the interim entangled
dangling whims will surely shed
sans decorum, sowing unheard
cries of autumn blur, bereft

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The Sloe

silent shrills
spilled forth like flies
from graves of eager repose

dolent will
crept from her eyes
in waves of welling woe

stoically
a stolen bliss
of esoteric air

stranded long
as loss bestilled
mesmeric songs drew tears

sycamores
loomed nigh as night
blew fickle wafts of clove

trickling
illuminously
from aloft the sloe

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Before

Beam of unrelenting inquest
Baring truth of barren chest
Blaring with aberrant bidding
Bearing of unknown behest

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Sediment

brief to behold
retold as sweet sorrow
as daylight unfolds
and hours become borrowed

a tragic seclusion
walls rusted with death
impassioned delusions
seek mustering breaths

but long have the seasons
shone cyclical sun
where dawn winces reason
through cryptic webs spun

as tall as a fall’s tale
as broad as the sky
embalmed inside black shale
and wallowing sighs

a grim inquisition
brings ground underfoot
where dimly lit prisons
sing sounds of refuting

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Hollow Hearts of Clay

hollow hearts of clay
awaken, the day’s rue

sway
with impulse

fickle, as the squandered bloom

lest sated
by squall’s dew
trickling serous dolor

a desiccant fate awaits

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Window of Slumber

i believe in subtle skies where you and i might meet

dreams serene that lie between the rift of open eyes

i have seen you as you are and as you may have been

whispering in silent hues refracting through dawn’s dew

waxing spools of unspent words where truth inspires the wind

freely falling as the finest motes on placid seas

hidden realms of quietus and calming songs of trust

long forgotten degustaions painting life as love

memories once fleeing from our muddled minds transmute

so will sunken soil bear secrets deep as stars in view

wonders yet unknown of verity as vast as home

one day will awaken with the ancient prayers of yore

every layer of mystery once more will breathe the sun

until this time i find the faces fond as once i held

traced in patterns strewn about in scattered lines perceived

inside of worlds familiar depicted in my sleep

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Letting Be

Let not the pain in which we suffer
Afflict those carrying our hearts

Release allures veiling elusive
For each must tend their burdened load

Let the ancient souls subsist us
With forces none dare comprehend

Let no man stand to quash thy purpose
Stay the path shone brightly with truth

For only minds of open ingress
Sow the seeds of fortune’s reap

Filling fields we’d let fall fallow
With abundant wonders strewed

Train thy sights of weather eye
Upon these friendships, forge thy freedom

Under skies of vibrant valor
Let us rise to heights unknown

To walk in every path whence trod
Perchance, to understand our own

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