Token of Her Heart’s Reflection

it’s hot outside
my heart is broken

yesterday
the news struck ground
after weeks
bound by tempest waters
ravaging resolve

her restraint
was faint at best
upon a whim’s behest
it crumbled

knowing well
the consequence
were she to sip
the spirits of chance

known to fail
my intuition
when it passed
i turned away

it was this moment
that would tear
our bond asunder

all the fire
that burned within me
now subdued
to hurt transmuted

as the bead of sweat
gathers to fall
in the periphery

from the black rimmed glasses
perched upon my face askew

also, does a tear lamenting
sent from realms
of shuttered pain

sweltering
as sorrow rings the sting
within this vacant stare

trained upon that shattered moment
shone to show her disregard

that she would allow
for all this

broken boundaries
words misspoken

token of her heart’s reflection

NES kid

in my pixellated form
i would save the world
from boredom

swarming hordes
on stormy seas
as captive of
a dream alluded

thoughts of torment
sought reprieve
in redoubt granted
by its heeding

a young mind’s wrest
in secret worlds
of vested heart
and truth obscured

the only thing
that i could hold
amid darkness
beyond control

how many like me
found escape
in plastic boxes
muted gray

to stay the wrath of
conscious realms
a fated passage
most profound

the untold burden
of their “concern”
cast the mould
struck bridges burning

grim projections
glowing screens
protection
from the wounds unseen

a NES kid
who had fought his wars
through cartridges
on broken floors

Within Your Arms

you justify
the sentence
in this prison
of the flesh

by the merit
of an offhand touch

leaving me
in study
at the basin
of the desert sun

tending
to each bead
of salted dew

Untitled-1 copy

 

just the slightest hint
of your florid rendezvous

more than piques
a passion
poised to sate
the quenchless gods

when the skies
have shuffled off
the blaring beams
of inquest

urgency finds me
at your behest

at last
within your presence
every sense caressed
by vibrant coils

all divergent seas
now coalesce
upon your breast

as we soar
through stolen
secrets
from these realms
of the Akashic

trails of our assimilation
scintillate our wake

all the stars
bespeckling
the stretching blackness

bear no sweeter fruit
than a single second
spent within your arms

precious
as the poignancy
of truth’s
most perfect pattern

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

Relevant Rant

Will we ever see beyond the trees into the forest of illusions set before us by ourselves, or are we simply at a loss to bear this burden? Certainly, such implication complicates the inferences alluding to this state of indignation, which perpetuates the presence of my acute consternation. Do the constellations hold the key unlocking unknown doors to worlds beyond the chaos of existence? Is this counsel self-contained, a crux which cancels itself out, a crutch our conscience uses to ensconce us? Every question seems to touch the realm of truth secluded which eludes even those perspicacious erring on most prudent. Dedicated students of the mind have yet to find an explanation which defines our cosmic purpose. Exponentially, our ponderance compounds without exception, thereby instilling an exigence unduly excess. We have set the boundaries far beyond our wildest expectations to the point of courting disappointment. With our inclination to usurp our self-appointed power, surreptitiously supposing precedents unseen which seem to propagate our dreams so many silently believe. Bereaving us of freedoms rife with possibility which would inspire community instead of spurning hope for peace. Sapience and salience presumed part of our “sentience” are scarcely exercised or altogether compromised, despite the catastrophic impact of our calculated actions we continue on this fervid course of forced dissociation. Refusing to disseminate the knowledge which facilitates a self-sufficiency that would, in turn, sustain society without burning the bridges to the people in positions of imposed disparity based on factors beyond their person. The irony is so profane exceeding that which is insane in fact, it’s that which only fools would dare to claim not criminal. The truth of this reality that humankind just cannot see is every human stands to gain when selfish hands release the reins that led them to where we are now. Instead, with what we’ve stood to learn, so easily could we discern that only through consideration of each other, and each station intrinsic within our being, can we truly attain freedom. Kindness is not just a word, nor is it a notion absurd. It IS what all of us deserve. Without it, there is only hurt.

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”

Furtive Moons

there are only so many metaphors
that serve to justify this pain
so many words
chewed up
and spit back out
onto surfaces
whose purpose
carries all burdens

these feelings are like water
journeying alone
in a fearless freefall
crashing into the earth below
to join the fates
that all have known

still, each fragment
leaves its mark
for others to embark upon
in the hour
of our exodus to exile

the skies belong to one
as one to all
as life itself
bleeds into the eyes
at the horizon

we take our tragic pittance
wrought from anguish
each within the alchemy intrinsic
to their own

to spin the loom
and weave majestic tapestries
of triumph
to share the secrets
intimately held
by furtive moons

Accursed Ring

i have worn
this banded armor
shorn away
by silent toll

even now
in days diminished
erstwhile sentiments yet hold

idle hands
have stayed my purpose
vice allays
the spirit’s wake

tears erode
this pallid surface
worthless feelings
ne’er abate

dulling
from the desert sun
has robbed me
of my own perception

burning shadows
stabbed my eyes
and stole her
from the moon’s reflection

Drifting Into Ruin

our distance
belies summation

amid the sacred frivol
we chose
to quantify
ourselves

defiant
like the sentience
of existence

inundated
with the drivel
waning tides forgot
to tell

timeless dimensions
lay between
the worlds
within these walls

teemed with apprehension
we haplessly watch
verity unfurl

drifting
into ruin

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