O Songbird

o songbird
of restive mind
thy repertoire vast

as the moonlit masquerade
cast upon the empty bed
of night

piercing requiem
tunneling through
the void
of vanquished mirth

the shrill
of sordid regrets
and disquiets
arisen
from the garden
of agateophobia

like a raving mockingbird
ravaged by truth

feathers hewn
with latent farewell
faintly clinging
to a page
from the past

sing to me
all i have lost

let each note
ring out
as once it
ran me through

before
the great fault
slid the sea
‘neath the desert

and prosody
felled
by god’s languorous sigh

where senses
once flourished
with the triumph
of Typhon

pray let thy song
lay this hardship
to rest

Worlds of Wonder

ceaselessly
caught between
two worlds of wonder

one of which
i revel
in a beauty
yet untold

watching it unfold
in muted ponder

another
so disheveled
that i shudder
to behold

ruthlessly
comprised
of pealing thunder

underneath
the undulation
lies a plundered soul

pandering
the plight
of its condition

haunted
by the light
ever lingering
on yonder

longing
for an answer
to it all

What She Said

I wrote this song for someone very close to me when their mother passed at a young age from a terminal condition. I’m not very adept at engineering sound so you’ll have to excuse the crude quality of the recording.

“train ticket to another world
but she don’t know where to go
the truth was something
that we did not know
oh tell me now

standing in the field one day
thoughts rolled through my head
and i remember something that she said

she told me that life’s a lie
she showed me the reason why
she showed me the other side of life

and as i heard what she said
as her words filled my head
i began to see where they led
but instead…

i remember looking back
on the things we used to do
back then when i was a kid
and she was still one too

she used to always say to me
that one day she would rise
never once stood back
to even try to realize

as i think and look back now
you know it makes me wonder how
she’d always stand outside in the rain

then i knew exactly why
said she’d never leave my side
then late one night she died
and i cried”

*EDIT – Bonus Angry Samoan’s cover

“no no no, i need a place to stay
no no no, i need another day

my soul is lost, it’s lost its way
it’s been living in this lost
this lost highway

the night gets darker now
i’m cold and all alone
i took a turn in this life somehow
i’ll never find my way back home

i don’t know
i can’t tell you, girl
what i’ve seen there

the demon spawn with bulging eyes
the devil living in disguise
he’s in this world, he’s here today
he’s been living in this lost
this lost highway”

Solicitudes Become Us

with all that we may stand to gain
or lose
upon a single breath

prudence yet eludes
our voice of truth

flaunting our pathologies
solicitudes become us

highwaymen who strum
submissive hearts

creatures born of covetous
convinced by vaporous conviction

candy coated candor
with a cracker jack surprise

desiccated eyes
no longer fit
to hold this thin disguise

rolling to reveal a hollow head
where tears unshed yet hide

Eternal Mirrors

let the earthen bounty
be your pillow
as the balsam breeze
tucks you in its whispered lull

tonight
our frailty
is forgiven
heaven dare not fathom
to assail us
whence we lay

its offerings
are present
for the taking

as prismed apparitions
through shifting crypts of time

searching for the shadow
of forgiveness
where folding stars
outstare the eye of jupiter

death is but a fear unsound
thought traps within
the silent walls that bind us

stepping through
eternal mirrors
on journeys shared as one
‘neath these precious suns
of stoic tempest flare

Retro-Spectrum

time
was the circumstance

that drove paper nails
through weightless
coffins

to think
we once knew

as desperately
we dangled
from tresses
of concession

composed of gold

which stretched
for many miles
beyond

the trenches
of our youth

i look now
upon days gone

eschewing

but nowhere
are you to be found

lost
perhaps

in the vaulted yonder

where obsidian
gaurds
the earthen tomb

Great Big World*

beyond
my front door

lies a great
big world

more vast
than is humanly
comprehensible

a veritable cornucopia
of prospect propitious
and liberty endless

brimming
with untold
opportunity
and infinite possibility

for me

to swiftly
and precisely

meet
my ultimate
demise

A Pseudo Farm

with lackadaisical regard
i watch as they dwindle
one by one
and sometimes two
or more

i never formed
a reason to rhyme
until time descended
upon me
like a pornographic impulse

brew me another cup
of disillusionment
while you’re at it

that last one
nearly fit the bill

sometimes
i wonder if i actually will
or would
or could

of course,
there is no question
as to whether or not
i should

though i am
but a coward
in uncomfortable skin

i’ve worn out
since the day
the world informed me

as i swallow
more
to boredom’s pallor

like a Fuller Brush Man
in a town inhabited
by ghosts

where nothing hearkens
but the silence
that consumes me

as a void that lay
between two mirrors
spared of my own completion

In That Darkness

it is only
in that darkness

unburdened
by the sun’s insistence

when the vilest
of creatures vanish

do we assemble

in legions
of hypnagogic afterthought

to worship our liege
of argent gloaming

like romans
in their own day

we take
to excess

to banish the dross
of existential blowoff

which echoes in these chambers
of mitochondrial horror

with implore aimed
at staying all tomorrows

whilst stranded
in the dregs
of yesterday

When Consciousness Comes Calling

there is a pang

when consciousness
comes calling

magnetic forces
disrupt the atmosphere

and dormant thoughts return
as torment ripples
throughout my being

with the ominous silence
of imminent shockwave

bearing the gravest
consequence of logic defied

tearing me
from the static sepsis
of my heart’s invasion

to answer its unbridled beckon
with blinded reckoning

as i shudder to behold
the untold tale
of my greatest failing

through portals of peridot
long dulled from life’s laments

sodden earth
from sullen stream

once culled from squalor
placed within the bezel
of my breast

and pulled me from this berth
by the undertow’s drag

jilted like sloughed slag

amid a mournful requiem
of shrill remorse