Tripping

we experience
our own expression
subjectively

in the form of dreams

our subconscious
is the peripheral landscape

flourishing between
the diametrical opposition
of a contiguous mirror

as we stand
in the midst
of chaotic illusion

alluding to the infinity
persisting in each dimension

and that
of our existence
within every aspect
of eternity
itself

as oneself

as everything
and nothing

in perpetual states
of entropic balancing

behind the masquerade
of conscious awareness

through the cosmic filter
of relevant perception

personified

Separation

imprisoned
in irons
of ivory’s irony

inconsolable
impenetrable

in spite of ourselves
a splintered perfection

o, splendorous winter

let us seep into the silent spring

to sing assuagence
and sate the urgent seas
with tempest

It Matters Not

it matters not

what sinewy strength
you strut
with such braggadocio

the artifice
auspiciously adorning
your display

what conquest
you proclaim
in compensation
for your lacking

what brazen
domain
you should presume
over mother nature

what flagrant disregard
that you would show
your fellow
human

the speed
at which your steed
feeds dust
to sate your weary foes

the dubious dimensions
nor ornateness
of your codpiece

the arbitrary
shackles
in which you confine
your pawns

the clamor
of your calls
to claim a throne
by way of bloodshed

it matters not

for you
will never
be a man

without first
embracing feminism

Original Synthesis

perhaps none dare
to venture
beyond
the comfort

of the semen
stained illusion
that warps
their precious
window to the world

to bear
witness
to the scandal:

the

“original sin”

of woman;
creating;
mankind.

Avoidant

avoidant
that’s what they
call it

the truth
is that i’m terrified

scared
out of my wits

afraid
of the horrors
that await

in the unknown
abyss
of uncertainty

where all of my dreams
go to die

the term
“avoidant”

to me
implies
willfulness

the only thing
i so desperately wish
to avoid

is this

Such Dreams Expire

pray this memory
tell no lies

in light
of truth
since shone

to strip me
of my last reprieve

pray not
these newly fallen whispers

speak ill
of our erstwhile tales

should they unravel
all my world

would vanish
into despair

for every sinuous
sorrow felled

arose
a sanctuary

that once
we shared

to dare
such dreams expire

but time
forever
radiates
in solemnity

and thus i am fraught
with this aching moor

of that which
i can never
come to mourn

Freedom of Words

i have never written
anything

these words
are not
mine

these thoughts
i may
possess

to some degree

perhaps
i act
as the filter

through which
the collective
experience
accrued
by this feeble form

speaks

to the world

my expression
does not belong
to me

for i am unable
to behold its presence

our words belong

to one another

just as love
suffers

no dominion

but persists
in the form
of all things

in every temporal instance
as the one
singularity

of our existence

thank you
for sharing
in this experience

Every Day

every day
we awaken

edging ever closer
to oblivion

none
can say
how or when

some dare
ask why

only one
stands
to find
out

i for you
and
i for i

[Artwork: M.C. Escher]

in the middle of the night

in the middle of the night
on a frozen platitude
it was simple and sublime
just a thinkin’ ’bout you

Thoughts

my expression
airs profuse
ensnaring me
in silent noose
these ceaseless cries
of reckless poise
pen pointless vies
of restless noise
recycled prose
composed of pain
in spiral throes
bereft of shame
enmeshed in mire
moshing through muck
long since retired
from flying fucks
abundant piles
of errant swill
redundant guile
imperiled still
suffice to say
human am i
the price i pay
cannot deny
this truth unmoored
of my behest
a heart obscured
by art beset
but dare i say
i shall persist
for here allays
the impetus
to quash this voice
would surely gain
naught but the vice
of life’s abstain
so hear these words
but heed them not
for rest assured
they are but thoughts