Return of the darkness to soils of being. Desecration, madness resulting. The maker of sin, now morals are gone again. Feelings left, now roots are wilted. Killed the leaves begin to fall. Our Sun's madness drains the life from our sacred ground. HG - 1995-2000
Tag: free verse
Drinking With My Dark Past…. And Loving It!
I gather all my specters from the deep waters and sing songs to long gone wisps of memory that once held me in chains. We drink deeply of melancholic elixirs, imbibing of the dear lost ones; while predicting with drunken certainty things still to happen. I have some very rambunctious skeletons. They have never stayed … Continue reading Drinking With My Dark Past…. And Loving It!
Death of a Way of Unliving
And so it begins, as one of me dies another takes its place. As torn limbs and loves grow stronger amidst my own demise. I wandered through the ruins, trying to descry what I had been. Here and there a shaded memory survives. I know if I disturb them they'll dissolve. … Continue reading Death of a Way of Unliving
Alien
Feeling more alien than human, so far removed from who I am. An explorer in a sea of endless life and dying. Living as I go. Oh, I feel alive, though not in any way I've ever known. This world shows so much, not all of it beautiful. The face plant, the soft touch; alive, … Continue reading Alien
What it is to be Alive
Movement in my cells. Blood in my veins. Breath in my lungs, from my balls to my tongue; a feeling I cannot tame. So this is what it's like to be alive. A biological enigma, nurturing this stigma, 'til the motions in the muscles stop and I die. Thoughts race through my mind. Emotions … Continue reading What it is to be Alive
Serenity
A slow shift, back and forth from consciousness. Drifting further on now reverse and still. Kept as is. The sleep is here. Away and flow sliding back no gravity to hold. Close the eyes, the motion is in sleep. HG - 1995-2000
No Destination
Wandering. Not without a place to stay, but without a place to go to. No destination. Life is lived until a point, when what is there does not suffice to sooth, comfort and make the world loved. No security. No destination. A place to go is needed; to say the least, a world away. My … Continue reading No Destination
Time of My Life
Can I close my eyes and feel the rain upon me? The heat of the sun lets me know I'm alive. The feeling of wind washing the world off me. The time of my life. So, time is falling away, they say, life's short anyway; well worth the weight. Can I see in the morning … Continue reading Time of My Life
Caught in Dreams
Comes to me in dreams leaves me by the time. I wonder waiting so, if it's real or if it's only thinking. Moving motion on as night burns into dawn, still I'm asking why I see it in my mind. Never found an answer for the questions that I'm asking just keep asking more and … Continue reading Caught in Dreams
Vapid Outrage
In times of tumultuous circumstances, one ought to be interesting; there are no merits for bland words and banal verbatim, even less for click-share sentiments that weep with the sincerity of a chopped onion. Our striped bar avatars, smooth, plastic faces displace our discourse with a buoyant sense of relevance. Self serving and ineffectual , … Continue reading Vapid Outrage
SPARX
I see this holy place above me, though for me I sit around the fire, watching the sparks fly. As all the world seeks without the inner meaning; conjures, conjectures and generally does nothing. Beside the ocean where the trees meet the beaches, the distances between us seem enormous. The likelihood of universality is but … Continue reading SPARX
In Time
Does the day begin with the dawn? Is it only the strike of Midnight that heralds time’s next immutable step? For we know that though tomorrow is never promised, it is inevitable. Whether we are present to bear witness to the Sun’s journey through the heavens, it occurs. Archeoastronomy may show this has been … Continue reading In Time
Rebirth?
I have worn out the words that describe rebirth. There are no new ways to recreate what is. The sculpture pulverized to dust, and water added, folded back into clay, then molded into some transcendent form, is still dust. Each palace built on opulence and verdant builder’s ego, with gilt and polished stones and cedar … Continue reading Rebirth?