The Joke

It’s been a long journey from that young filly with the rangy legs. Who was it! Said that youth is wasted on the young? They spoke the truth and no mistake. What kind of cosmic joke gives us insight and wisdom So that we can see with lucidity our downhill journey? Shallowness of spirit is one thing But witnessing the passing of time as registering On your physical is no laughing matter… Or maybe it is? Maybe that is the answer. If so I will laughTill I hurt…

By Whose Authority?

Myriad facets of love co-existing, Interdependent, None more worthy than the other For love is the highest emotion Elevating us to the heavens through association...Accepting, forgiving, freely given, Erotic, spiritual, deep and passionate How can any part be wrong? I would rather stand accused of loving wronglyThan Hating Justly.

Exhausted

The night was not her problem. Though the images and scenarios Ripped her apart, They were painfully relegated to those Phantoms Inhabiting another reality. And yet she knew She would have to face them sometime. No avoidance from life or death. No escape or bolt hole… Who is mad? The one who sees it coming? Or the one who saysIt will not come..... She no longer knows.

Hidden Power in Music

The orchestra played as the Titanic went down. At first as a delaying tactic for panic. surely all must be well? Then an act of pure bravery Hastening on many souls Into the next world. The Jews at Auschwitz were serenaded By the camp orchestra . Shaved heads and emaciated bodies Replaced ballgowns and jewels . Musicians, dead inside, And those being herded like cattleAlike…lost, cut loose from comfortProjected into unreality. Pipers walked unarmed towards certain death. The pipes urging our bravest and bestFathers, husbands, lovers and young men Into the relentless sea of machine guns; Mustard gas and endless stinking mud Cutting them down like marionettes in hellback into the trenches Lifeless staring eyes, rats and despair. Music has always had the ability To inflame the passions or sooth the soul Because it acts on our subtle senses. At times the juxtaposition of soothing While suffering terribly accentuates both A demonic blending of two sides of the same coin. This power is abused by thoseWho are aware of it So the National Anthem will make men kill While feeling proud In confused minds of manipulation. Oh there is a time for all that. A time to be proud...But We need to step Outside the music To know.

Gambling on the Grouse Fields

I knelt naked and trembling Then I found myselfa cloak of peacock feathers. Wrapping it around my bodyI became a different person. I transformed into a show bird. A party animal, A strutting pruning Golden Pheasant But the feathers did not suit me And the attention was not to my liking So I made a deal with a stoat. "Take my feathers But leave my body entire." So this wily killer decided That it was good enough For his country credibility To see a pile of broken coloured feathers. So we struck a deal, He took my feathers And I crept awayNaked But heart beating.

Head to Tail

A good heart sours under a critical sun and a joyous feeling can crumble and decay when showered with the poison of other's condemnation. good intentions can come to naught, can turn around like a viper and swallow whole the head of it all and there are no winners but the circle is complete.

Sea Creatures

We can dance in the shallows. Splash and laugh in the small waves. Lie on the sands of time And dream of distant horizons, Echoing over the waters But it’s when the night comes and the dark oceans swellThat we dive to the depths Of our beings And expose our inner longings. Dive deep...

End Times

Who will be my hero? when times grow dark and the drowning soul needs light? Whose words will evaporate the dirt of the age, shine my mirror clean? I cannot swallow your words for truth is easily digested and lies are stuck in my throat. Nations are manipulated. Souls live in fear bound and chained by lies . The old ways have died. they suffocated through lack of light. Great darkness is in command. WAKE UP! take what action you can for the machinery is already in motion. End times are manifesting. We CAN change the script. Together we can alter this holograph. Humanity is screaming for deliverance. Do not believe it? Buy another outfit, get a high definition TV So you can watch in 'high fashion' the meltdown of civilisationas we know it.

Shadow Lands

I need to dive deep Into the chaos of my dreams To retrieve my pearl before The waters drown me, I can only hold my breath for so long But that will never hinder my quest As a newly single parent, years before My dreams were always of babies abandoned in prams, starving. How could I have left them there? Such distress, Guilt and being overwhelmed Does strange things to the psyche. Still, My night time hieroglyphics remain challenging. No escape from actions, decisions . So glad I took the time To study my ancient symbols...Inhabiting a parallel universe I need to have a map, The right tools And so I go on. Night to day, Here to there Sometimes lost in no man’s land. Questioning, always questioning. Revelations, a two edged sword, Maybe I should cut myself in two? Maybe that would beThe answer.

Tears In The Fabric

Worlds within worlds. Interpenetrating realities, Innumerable, unfathomable Sometimes they visit mine, Sometimes me theirs. I saw him last night, my fatherAlmost 23 years gone. We laughed and talked and it was so good. Then lucidity dawned. I told him he was dead And he told he wasn’t. I told him I loved him and begged him not to leave me. He told me he never has But the words made him gradually disappear And I was left crying to his fading voice Of reassurance. First there, Then here.

Hell Can Wait

Escaping brick confinesInto the garden In time for yet another deluge, She considered bartering her soul. That thing held sacrosanct All these years of struggle, The one thing that bastard 'life' Could not rob from her but the still small voice said "no! It's almost dawn!"So she poured herself another glass of wine As she cried angry hot tears Cursing her nature of'No Surrender!'

My Philosophy

Everyone has their own philosophy about life, suffering, mysticism, and transcendant reality. Mine has developed as I have walked the Red Road of the Spirit. When we realise that in even 'everyday' events there are signs and wonders hidden awaiting translation, yes and in the Royal Road of dreams especially. I see poetry and meaning in everything.

Signs, Wonders and Blessings

Looking around for meaning, Signs, permanence She observed the cobbled street. A dead end leading to a small bridge over a river. Realising sudden significance, Skilled as she was in dream interpretation, She gave thanks silentlyFor this quiet sanctuaryBefore the crossing...

Ancient of Days

Every little now and then I wonder how connected we all are as individual beings living in a collective world. I wonder how much we really consider each other. Is life just a separate journey for each of us? Can I make your journey easier? Can you do the same for me? Is it safer to care for only yourself? Funny thing is, even if we choose a solitary path, the ripples from just our thoughts, let alone our actions, are enough to touch someone or something else. We are not solitary souls adrift in a world of chaos, though we may feel that at times. We are dynamic, creative, expressive individuals constantly contributing to the components of life...Every little now and then someone or something comes along that makes us sit up and pay attention. Something that touches us at a level much deeper than routine...something that whispers to the soul because it holds value, honesty and integrity.

The Answer no Question Asked

I went to the verge, I say, and came back safely. I reached my North and it had meaning. Here at the actual pole of my existence, where all that I have done is meaningless, where I die or live by accident alone – where, living or dying, I am still alone; Here where North, the night, the berg of death crowed me out of the ignorant darkness, I see at last that all knowledge I wrung from the darkness is worthless as ignorance: Nothing comes from nothing. The darkness comes from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness. And we call it wisdom. It is pain. Some have not been so fortunate, some have fallen. They themselves turn back, unworried. But I have been there There I stood under the tree. My hand against its resinous bark: my face turned out and downward to the fourfold kingdom. The wind roared from all quarters. The waterfall came down, it seemed, from heaven. The mighty sounds of pouring elements, earth, fire, air and water. The cry of eagles, chatter of falling stones – These were the frightful languages of that place. I understood it all.Water and fire were there, and air and earth. There too was emptiness; All, and nothing, and something too, and love. But these poor words, these squeaks of ours, in which we strive to mimic, with strained throats and tongues, the spawning and outrageous elements. Alas! How paltry are they! For I saw myself and God. I saw the ruin in which godhead lives; shapeless and vast: the strewn wreck of the world: Sadness unplumbed: Misery without bound. Wailing I heard, but also I heard joy. Wreckage I saw, but also I saw flowers. Hatred I saw, but also I saw love………………….. And thus, I saw myself.This alone awaits you, when you dare to that sheer verge where horror hangs, and tremble against the falling rock; and, looking down, search the dark kingdom. It is to self you come. It is the seed of seeds. It is the answer no question asked.

When You Are Old

When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book, and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true; But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face. One man will grow old with you and love you on your bed.

Longing

Come to me in my dreams, and then by day I shall be well again. For then the night will more than pay the hopeless longing of the day. Come, as you come a thousand times, a messenger from radient times, and smile on the new world, and be as kind to others as you are to me. Or, as you never come in South, come now, and let me dream in truth. And part my hair, and kiss my brow, and say "My love! Why do you suffer?" Come to me in my dreams, and then by day I shall be well again. For then the night will more than pay the hopeless longing of day.

Come

Come as you are, not over your mind. If your braiding has come loose, if the parting of your hair be not straight, if the ribbons of your hair be not fastened, do not mind. Come as you are, not over your mind. Come with quick steps over the grass. If your anklets slacken, if your feet are pale with dew, if pearls drop out of your chain, do not mind. Come with quick steps over the grass. Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky? Flocks of cranes fly up from the further river bank and fitful gusts of wind rush over the heath. The anxious cattle run to their stalls in the village. Do you see the clouds wrapping the sky? In vain you light your minds lamp; It flickers and goes out in the wind. Surely, who would know that with lamp-black your eyelids are not touched? For your eyes are darker than rain clouds. In vain you light your minds lamp; It goes out. Come as you are, not over your mind. If wreath is not woven, if the wrist-chain has not been tied, leave it by. The sky is overcast with clouds; it is late............. Come as you are my love, not over your mind.

Simplicity

What law, what reason can deny that gift so sweet, so natural that God has given a stream, a fish, a beast, a bird? Can life truely separet you from me............. If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?

Immortal

Ages ago, people grew old with time And not before time. They slept well and enjoyed themselves. They did not have to rush in accordance with the hands of a clock, Still less constantly jump when a siren went off. They took time to enjoy everything. No one hurried. Life was there, before them, rich and generous. They had a philosophy that allowed them to behave like that “They knew they were members of a community That would never die….”

Love And Miracles

Bees swarm along the fragile edge of darkness.Open wounds attract blood-hungry flies.Near my heart lie savage little soulsNeatly arrayed to feast upon my life.In eight days God will be through with miracles.Even so, life is a gift of love. So how does one enjoy this gift of love,Even as one moves from light to darkness?There is no moment free of miracles,However swift and deep one's passion flies. Glory is the dancing quark of life,Alight with love and lust in all our souls.Born of the cataclysm, our burgeoning soulsRace towards infinity, loveInfinite, lust infinite, lifeEternal as light billowing into darkness.Little do we see how far it fliesAs we spin through Earth-bound miracles.Nor can we comprehend these miracles.Darkness is the center of our souls,Like still black water in the moonlight. LoveIs of this emptiness; unburdened, it fliesSwiftly in widening circles, skimming the darkness,A motion outward at the heart of life. More cry than ocean, more wish than star, lifeIs the lyric of an explosion of miracles.Dream and dung, it is the gospel of darkness;In a petrie dish, a canticle of souls. Earth is the stage for a concert of passionate love:Lettuces and roses, gulls and flies. Let flies and fish and redwoods sing of lifeEqually, of love and miracles;Nor shall our souls deny their birth in darkness.

Unseen By Those Who Anger

Beauty is the radiance of Being,Opening a seam of inner sky.Now we pause a moment beyond seeing,Not at the heart of things but quite nearby,In fields where all our deepest longings lie.Each of us becomes a thing of beautyAs we are touched by love's unearthly grace,Not meaning to transcend our chosen duty,Demanding nothing more than we embrace, More lovely than our hands or eyes can trace.As ordinary days are filled with music,Rejoicing in the glory of a song,Kind hearts can dwell in beauty if they choose it,Unseen by those who anger and do wrong.So may love bring you beauty all life long.

The Mistress of My Eye

Beautiful eyes, beautiful face,I'm shy to talk to you.You're the eagle I must watchNo matter what I do. You're the beauty, wild and free,The mistress of my eyes,Rolling through exultant air,Alone in pristine skies. I would take you for my ownCould I but have your wings,Could I but go where night beginsAnd frozen sunlight sings. Could I but have you for my love,How might we fly together!But I must watch you from belowAnd long for you forever. But I must be the one belowAnd long for you forever.

Remember

Be patient with life, despite its cruelty.Often it seems careless of our pain,But just as often brings us hope again. Remember, I wanted happiness for you.Under every foolish word this still was true.Be happy, then, without, as you would with me.In your life many sweet events remain.Not in anguish, but in joy remember me.

I’ll Become a Tree

After you leave, I will become a tree Alone on a hillside, loving wind and sun, Waiting for you to return home to me Though centuries of lonely stars may run. I'll grow tall and give lots of shade, Sheltering birds and other bright-eyed things. Pleased with all the progress that I've made, I'll spread my leafy branches out like wings. But oh! Every moment of every day I'll miss you with the passion of the wind, Gazing endlessly upon the way That without you is empty, empty without wind.

Blessings

After my father gave me his blessing For the first time, saying, "God bless you" As I left him to the darkness, He held me there and kissed my hand. For the first time saying, "God bless you" In all the years that I had loved him, He held me there and kissed my hand, And the child shivered with delight. In all the years that I had loved him, We understood no need to speak. The child shivered with delight; The man in silence turned away. We understood no need to speak As I left him to the darkness. The man in silence turned away After my father gave me his blessing.

For You,

After love and fear, there's pride; After tears, the night; After all the words are gone, A chair with just one light. After memories, the dream That you will come home safe; After sleep, another day Of waiting for my life. After hope, the happiness Of thinking of your love; After moments of despair, A stone no thought can move. After all the sacrifice, The hunger and the pain, The passions and the promises, The losses and the gains, There's nothing but my love for you, Which waits upon the wind To bring you from the barricades That now you must defend.

Adages of Age

In the morning there is hope; In the afternoon, fulfillment; In the evening, memory; At night, peace. Free choice is destiny without a crystal ball. Quality seeks its own level. Boredom is the result of insufficient attention to detail. Every moment of life is a moment of unperceived ecstasy.

The Mask

Actors wear a special mask:One that's most revealing.When they pretend they're someone elseThey hang themselves to dry. The tears and screams they've made their taskLeave nothing for concealing.Each wound must bleed again, or elseThe audience won't cry.

Double Exposure

"Life is like a photograph; you develop from the negatives."Everyone perceives you, especially your close relatives. The total amount of light allowed to fall on the medium is Exposure.When we are focused on the negative it is hard to maintain Composure. Imagine if everyone perceived you in your darkest hours,If you died tomorrow would they even send you flowers? Looking at your own image, it is difficult to see flaws.We all can recall a time when we aimed for a cause,Yet who among has not imagined perfection, and missed,Or gave our best to a loved one and did not even get kissed. Is it not easy to see, that we see ourselves different than Others?Created in the divine image of God we are sisters and Brothers.Our Lord sees us, as we are, without images, and distorted Fact.Judge a book by its cover, it's acceptable to some, the way They act.The light of truth may fall, but it will rise when developed Well.I believe a double exposure is a useless picture in heaven, or In hell

Double Exposure

"Life is like a photograph; you develop from the negatives."Everyone perceives you, especially your close relatives. The total amount of light allowed to fall on the medium is Exposure.When we are focused on the negative it is hard to maintain Composure. Imagine if everyone perceived you in your darkest hours,If you died tomorrow would they even send you flowers? Looking at your own image, it is difficult to see flaws.We all can recall a time when we aimed for a cause,Yet who among has not imagined perfection, and missed,Or gave our best to a loved one and did not even get kissed. Is it not easy to see, that we see ourselves different than Others?Created in the divine image of God we are sisters and Brothers.Our Lord sees us, as we are, without images, and distorted Fact.Judge a book by its cover, it's acceptable to some, the way They act.The light of truth may fall, but it will rise when developed Well.I believe a double exposure is a useless picture in heaven, or In hell

Don’t Forget Me

Don't forget me when I'm gone.If I can't handle it this time,Please remember when I have shined.In case I don't make it through,I'd like it if you could recall I was once true.Don't forget me when you've moved on.If we don't work out,Please remember what we were all about.In case we don't last,I'd like it if you didn't leave me in the past.Don't forget me even if I'm just your pawn.If you're just using me and this is a sick joke,Please remember that I spoke.In case you're just another lie,I'd like it if you knew I once tried to fly...

Brave Warrior

Touching the distant white sandsPainted on a canvas, watercolors blendTurquoise and crimson illuminatedWith purple laughing fishesTo dazzle your sun drenched mind Hanging by a hook, just above my headThe tale of a brave Warrior is toldSurrounded in an ivory frameTrimmed in black, laced with goldTo hear Dale`s blazing guitarWhile gazing at such an amazing sightLends the mind to an earlier timeWhen heroes were held upon highAn epic tale, depicted in psychedelic Lore, a tale told many times beforeAbout a man, ordinary in many waysBattling the sea to find his quest.

This Is Me

I eat way too much sugar,And laugh at stupid jokes,I enjoy staring at walls,And I hate being poked.I listen to lots of music,And I trip over air,I day dream in school,And I obsess over my hair. I watch too much TV,And I like the movie doom,I scream for no reason,And I never clean my room.I play a lot of video games. And I drink too much ice tea,I misbehave way too much,And never ever agree.I can be overly emotional,And never want to listen,I can ignore the world completely,And never want to glisten.I sometimes want to break,And run so far away,I even want to cut myself,And never see another day.I know I have many friends,And they don't want me to be sad,I shall try not to hurt myself,And I'll try my best to be glad.I will try my hardest to smile, And try to accomplish my dreams,I will always follow my heart,And raise my self esteem.

Shooting Stars

My mind takes place in another dimension With voices at a table holding a convention.I'm off shooting stars out of the skyAs clocks sprout wings and learn to fly.One star falls and I wish for more money.As the second one dies I wish for a honey.More and more fall to the earth's cold groundReappearing in a clutter called the lost and found.The sky is falling, at least that's what they say,But we're still all here at the end of the day.Each day a new person drives me up another damn wallAs they look me in the mouth like a gift horse in a stall.They said to eighty six my head because it's too much, But I say they can't throw away what they can't touch.The newspapers speak of the guy that killed time.His lawyer says he has no reason and no rhyme. I guess I'm not the only crazy one in my head.They say things will get worse and dark ahead.Can't see how that's possible, it rains cats and dogs,If things got any worse it would rain horses and hogs.Everyone prepares for the next day with a dry runWhile I let my mind take over and I sit shotgun.Running like a robot, programmed to do things right.Screw one thing up and you're shut down for the night.Riding the day away trying to get to skid row, Just to separate from people and everyone I know.They say it's all over, but simply I turn a blind eye.I'll be here as long as I can shoot stars from the sky.

Nine-Inch Nails

Everyday a struggle Each word manipulated This world, dangling on the edge Full of trials and tribulations Minds...led astray Yet truth is misguided In the name of God These souls are betrayed Is there any end to this...? A faith that's blindfolded By guns in their hands Leaving loved ones behind To wonder where they stand. What you call this "Jihad" A Holy War...? Shedding innocent blood Through these streets of religion Is that what your doctrine talks about? Or..are you still delusional... The mind is conceived, With hatred and rage. Everyday they crucify their souls, With nine inch nails. I will ask you again....Is there any end to this...? Dedicated to the victims of Gaza...

A Beautiful Mirage

When life has robbed you of all, Your world turned to dark despair Let all your thoughts turn inwards, Strength and love lie there.

Tangled in your lies

Trapped within your violent dreams Unheard voices from my silent scream Nightmare tickets couldn't be redeemed Insanity being pushed to the extreme Melancholy twist of euphoric surprise No souls listening to my hidden cries Sweet promises tangled in your lies Debt mounting, unable to pay the price Waking up to bitter taste of reality Life hanging on uncertain destiny Expired drugs provides no remedy Angels unable to lift me from gravity Tormented to the edge of the seat Enslaved producing unwanted seed Useless repetitions of endless plead If only you'd let me go, then I'd be complete

I Cannot Send You My Letter

I will not send you this letter. I will not give you my heart. I will not send you All that lies within my gray matter. You have found another Yet there was so much in me for you. I will not send you this letter. I will not give you my heart. I will write. Indeed I will write And in so doing, I will pray that someday You will get my words. You can never be mine. But how so When I feel you so much In my heart? How so When you have bound All that makes me feel, All that derives itself From my being? Maybe I feel too much. Maybe there's too much emotions in me But what is man's essence If in life he does not feel? We make war because we feel. We make peace because we feel. We hate because we feel So we love because we feel. Life has its spice Because we feel. I will not send you this letter. I will not give you my heart But I will pray that one day You will feel for me What it is I felt for you.

Wisdom

In the wisdom of love, Time is not stupidly split up Into seconds and minutes. It does not flow Like beer in a pot That is sucked Until it is finished. In the wisdom of love, Time has no meaning.

Nothing Without Us

For life, For dreams, For eternity Our lives elude our perception. Life is a mystery. A tree of endless do's and dont's. There is purpose, There is meaning. But we have neither. From cradle To grave We struggle to make meaning Of our existence But none of us ever takes a glimpse Into that which is us. That which is our very essence.Is it worth our salt That we find solace in trivial maters, In careers, In distance, In race, In creed, In all that may be a short-cut To our existence? The noble of the noblest, The rich of the richest, The poor of the poorest, The soul and vanity. All these entities are never satisfied. Why? I am not a prophet But he who has not loved Has not lived. I will love, Or at least I will try to live.

Restless

Life has its miseries wherever You may be. King or beggar, Free or slave Each will get his share Though not equally. Into each life some rain must fall But it's enough for me Just to be with you. Grow old with me. The best is yet to come.

I beseech Thee, Come Back

The moon shines bright In such a night as this When the sweet wind gently Kisses the trees and they make no sound In such a night. In such a night as this I stood with a willow in hand Upon the wild sea banks And waved my love to come back again. How the moonlight sleeps Upon this bank! Here we will sit And let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; Soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, my love, Look how the floor of heaven Is thick with patens of gold. Such harmony is only in immortal souls. Such harmony is only in immortal love.

Continue in the Striving

Surrounded by enemies, You strive to retain control of your own destiny. I urge you now to continue in that striving. The visions that served you in the past, May they continue to provide focus and direction And wisdom. There may yet be a time when the warrior will return To the beautiful land That is in exactly the right place.

Life.

The purpose of life Is undoubtedly To know oneself. We cannot do it unless We learn to identify ourselves With all that lives And the sum total Of that life Is love.

Meeting You

I do not believe in reincarnation. I'm not sure if I ever will, At least not in the way Established religions describe it, But another life is the only way I can explain how much it means To have met you, To look into your eyes, To see your smile. It was like peering into the beautiful eye Of the full moon.

Beauty Devine

It's one of those days when it's just a minute from raining And there's this electricity in the air. You can almost hear it. Then there was this plastic bag dancing with the air. I felt like it was dancing with me, Like a little kid begging me to play with it. This is the day I realized there was this entire life behind things And this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know There was no reason for me to be afraid ever. This is the day I met you. It’s a poor excuse, I know, but it helps me remember. I need to remember you And what a good person you were And your beauty. Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't Take it but my heart just kind of gives in. I'd always heard your entire life flushes before your eyes in just a Second when your heart is in its rightful place. First of all, that one second, isn't a second at all. It stretches on forever like an ocean of time. For me, it's lying on my back at night watching falling stars And yellow leaves from trees that line our home. And my grand mother's hands and The way her skin seemed like paper. And the first time I saw my dad's brand new VW camper. And my sweet moon. Yes, my sweet moon. I guess I should be pretty sad because I haven't even seen you or Known you but it's so hard to stay sad when there's so much Beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon and it's about to bust And then, I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to Thoughts. To memories and then it flows through me like rain and I can't Feel anything but gratitude and love for every single moment of my life and those that I think of my sweet moon. You may not know what I'm talking about. But don't worry, You will, someday.

Essence of Life

Does it ever bother you how we dribble each day along The rugged pathways of this wretched earth? We wake up each morning and gather our scattered selves. We casually debate and agree to form these selves into some Loose confederation to face the dawn in a concerted formation Not knowing that life has something better for us And not what we believe to be true. Left in this gale, we must bore a tunnel of existence, losing our Limbs one by one, gaining fresh courage each passing moment. Nothing happens by way of transformation except the bitter Stubs of life, The stint of cold remembrance of a lost dry love. Slowly we believe we are gentiles Laboring on what is for the chosen. So we contend ourselves with being junks. Mere chunks of clay left to weather the wrath of time. Dusk closes upon us, Cooling down all the frustrations - a tactical retreat I suppose – So the selves say for tomorrow in the down wind, Their stub is sharper than the stalactite ends down the reef. Yet slowly these edges grow blunt, voices grow sweeter, Fog unblankets the sun, legs grow smoother and slowly, I think about how marvelously she has changed the whole meaning of my existence. The whole meaning of my essence.

I Became Mountain

My mother always dreamt that one day I would become a mountain. She always dreamt of my magnanimous existence, My nobility in a world of warms and overgrown toadstools. My mother dreamt of my trials and tribulations. She saw my demise and my re-birth. My mother lay down and dreamt. She dreamt of me….. Like she always dose! I saw her dreaming and I understood her dream. She wove the strands of my existence together. She saw me a mountain And I became.

Suicide

His head filled with light then darkness. The Ocean breeze engulfed him. He sucked in the moist salty air. He cleared his head, chasing away the darkness And its waiting beast. He was in too deep. He had allowed his thoughts to grow into a monster. One with a demanding, insatiable appetite. One he was too weak to deny. He had forsaken everything dissent to feed the monster. He had allowed them to feed it. To grow into the monster it was today. One he would never be free of. One they would never allow him to escape. Tears welled in his eyes, then spilled over. Tears of self-pity. Of a pathetic, lost soul. Of a man who had nowhere to turn, Who knew that only hell awaited him. The darkness, its unholy creature, spoke to him. It soothed and cajoled him though he heard the Edge of desperation in its plea. A giggle slipped past his lips, high and girlish. He could do anything. He could do this! He released the rail and straightened. Lifting his arms, he fell forward. For a split second he imagined himself flying, His arms becoming wings, Imagined the ocean breeze catching under those wings And carrying him away. Far away from this moment and himself. From his sickness and the creature who had fed it. In the next second, He imagined nothing at all.

Sublime

Do I do this for profit? Do I sink my nails into this pen, And divulge all that is within me for a coin? I started in this because this is what I wanted to do. I knew I wasn't going to write the great novels, But I also knew there was more to life than writing something for A shilling and selling it for two. I'd hoped to create something, Something which could be held to the highest standards. Something that could be engrained in the minds of Generations. Something that would outlast my existence. Something that would define the peak of man’s civilization. What I realized was I wanted to give this voice to the World, And I wanted to give it unvarnished. The more we all know about each other, the greater the chance we will survive. Sure, I want to make a profit. You can't exist without one. But this is not the goal. It is not the inevitable. Exposing the voices is a privilege and a responsibility, And it is not exploitable….. I have earned this privilege. As the writer, I urge you to free the voices. Free your mind and let the sublime literature flow into you.

Typical Mortal Man.

If my figures move in contradiction, It is because a person can never be the same At any given moment. The exterior change constantly forces him to Interior regrouping. Since a man is an atom, Constantly decaying and forming its self a new, What has to be depicted is what exists The Typical.