Our Condition

this dream that teems with emptiness
is one i know so well
for it permeates the essence
of existence

despite how it may seem
on the surface of this shell
reality looms ever
in the distance

the laughter that you hear
is the mirror reflecting tears
transmutated by a diligent subconscious

even when i smile
it’s to subjugate my fears
in a world where judgment rules
such fools as pontius

if i appear serene
it is only to belie
every tempest ever brimming
from within

the depth of this despair
has breached the realm beyond repair
and it’s all that i can bear
not to give in

the worst might never be
save to say this lonesome curse
will afflict the hearts of all
who dare exist

that we will never know
any truth by what is shown
the state of our condition
e’er persists

Not Even Death

and here we are
yet living
on this eve of lost idyll

i am no more able
to feel your touch
than sorrowed skies retreat

the passing hours
grow ever darker
my lair has turned to dust
unsettled

roaming on this plane
alone
in search of any senseless reason

the more i look
the more i find
my mind is but a distant ruin

littered with the consequence
of time’s relentless ire

as truths unravel
by its hands
extending far beyond
the grave

where now
not even death
can stand to save us

Profound Mechanism

what an oddly profound mechanism memory is
to be able to hear
the exact sound of someone’s voice
from years ago just by imagining it
to be able to vividly picture
a scene from a bygone era
whilst simultaneously looking
at the reality of the present moment
to summon the irreplicable symphony of flavors
rendezvousing upon the tongue
from a cherished dish
whose creator is no more
to behold the sweet scent
that once had found your senses
rapt in an erstwhile lover’s embrace
to revisit the feeling
of fleeting ideals
whence they fooled you into falling
for what you thought would be forever
foundations are ever shifting
in the light of newfound context
tragedy reshapes the stories
locked within our mind
knowing that the day will come
when all that we might stand to muster
swiftly turns to dust swept away
by a lonesome gust of wind
and this, the only truth
that we might ever trust in
it is for this very reason
we must live
within each moment
to foster our experience
as though it were untold
to leave a bold impression
that we one day might recall again
when all is lost as we retreat
into death shrouds of our own making

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

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

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

Take Heed

the well of inspiration draws from sources which are infinite
to bridge connection to each one demands forethought discriminate
we must maintain fastidious pursuit of new experience
to formulate the truth of our expressive voice in variants
each origin is cyclical in its availability
therefore we must commit to an atypical agility
lest we submit to dormancy, a fate surely abhorrent
we must all embrace the stormy seas and revel in the torrent
even everyday minutiae has a merit worth attending
it is only in this spirit does our muse become unending
this exemplifies the reason why we must remain objective
exercising our innate ability to be reflective
analyzing every aspect of the open world around us
sees us not to jeopardize our very existential impetus
for many things persist within this life which can demoralize
in manners most ubiquitous seen fit to leave us compromised
thus rendering creative function far less than fortuitous
engendering superlative compunction most gratuitous
it is upon such moments when doth art submit to artifice
and hearts succumb to numbness amid constructs born of avarice
therefore we must ensure to heed a purity of influence
and shore up our defenses courting verity with confidence
to hearken only calls which bear the mark of authenticity
embarking on our journey poised with prudent perspicacity
for muse is but a fickle and capricious force by nature
to abuse it only serves to redefine its nomenclature
hence, we must stay mindful and forgo the fruit found on the lowest branch
lest we are left to wallow in the throes of sophist circumstance
and such is not a fate abating idealization
of our suicidal woes, condemning our souls to damnation

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

The Silence of Forever

my spirit longs
to be the stars
that fill your sky

my heart would shine
reflections
of its truth

to lift you
up into a realm
where solace
sings redemption

that once
you laid upon me
by the mercy
of your kiss

but even vigilance
has lost its vested path

these broken roads
no longer
reach epiphany

as apathy
alone
absconds
with wistful dew

i thought
would one day
compose a river

through the valley
whence our love
had rent the earth

that i might sail
those tempestuous waters

in search
of where the willows
wept your name

but all my efforts
toiling at the pulley

have only returned
buckets
of morass

wrested hands
from years
of untold callous

now leave me
to attend
this ghostly shore

where sorrow comes
to lay for death
in prostrate

with arms
of clay stretched thin
succumbed to dust

once sought
to sway the forces
of the cosmos

with hope
to never stray
from its embrace

as mountains
birthed of mirthless
apprehension

would vanish
into the silence
of forever