I want to find a seascape
So blue and lost in space
Shining in a clear horizon
My mind shall know no pain.
Here I’ll watch albatross
Searching for some food
To bring me to a far off place
Off to the blue monsoon.
And when my heart
Sings to a wave
I’ll let it flow away
For in the sea
Sails off so free
My blue blue thoughts of you.
My inspiration has run me dry
Soaked me lifeless laying here
While wind sweeps away my breath
With each wave crashing in
Stuck inside a darkened void
Matter spinning deep inside
And my hallow laugh
Echoes upon blackened rocky cliffs
That keep me wading further
Into this dreadful sea.
I sent off a love letter
To the tip of the North Sea
She read it in the darkness
With a fist in her left hand
Ripped it up into ten even shreds
Stomped it under foot
Scooped it up and threw it in
To the cold cold North Sea.
From here she sent
Two pure black rocks
Sealed in a matte black box
For me to have and keep in sight
To remind me of her darkness.
When I received them
Into my hands
Immediately I turned to ice
For her dark words
Her reply to me
Was from the great North Sea.
I’m growing tired of seeing your reflection
The gates are locked
And my side
Looks like it’s full of open pastures
And wild forest jungles.
There was a time that I knew nothing,
Blinded by skulls and candy
That barked at growing starlight
Strangling each reason
With desperate acts of non-violence
Non-conformance,
Non-sense that rooted blasphemy
In a solid stone foundation,
Un-able, un-desired, un-restricted
By a garden of eden dream space
Too conditioned and nostalgic
To grow wings of a new spring
And follow what has been set in your path.
My clock’s big bold numbers have flipped
Into a new season
A colder season of inner reflection
Observation, closeness with tranquil harbours
That cannot be exhausted in one evening,
One spell cast fool-heartedly,
One lonesome wolf that shall not howl tonight
Though this moon she grows
Swollen and sombre,
And embers within this hearth
Yet to forget this fire that burns within them.
This is my process and I’m not ok with it
I’m not swallowing it without a fight
Babbling long lines of dribble down my chin
With my wits left somewhere down the hall I’m not going back
…
Catch up to the statements
And leave some kind of order behind,
Stuffed in a shirt pocket that now sits
Bundled into a non-symmetrical clump.
“This is order?” I scream at the walls,
Figuratively clawing my way to the top of the jar;
Fingernails raw with contempt for sanity,
Chalk lines drawn with my saliva
In spirals that lead to nowhere
And a greasy smear on my chest that has been there
Since the day I was (re)born.
With you on my mind
I remember what went wrong
Truth was misspent
And love was misplaced
Like a wildflower sprouting
Middle of the lawn
My song still on
Sun slowly rising
A walk down the street
And my heart just the same
Was loved and let go
Where the tale gets quite cold
And there you left me
With you on my mind.
I keep hoping
Against all support
That you’ll finally open
To a wonderful life
Without the pain
That’s killing me now
Lying here saddened, alone.
It is not truth
That stricketh fear upon thy stone
Or longing of thy presence, no
It is your warm touch
Instead of coldness
And the brow of kindness
Instead of the eve of sadness
Lost breath that slowly
Walks away with you
Killing me now.
I will accept your blinding
The butterflies that come to rest
But I will not accept your reckless
Washing down the valley side
Crevices deepending
As years transcending
This memory I should have discarded
When the water ran dry.
I’ve been drawing raindrops
On the inside of my window
Watching the drips form castles
Majestically standing empty, barren,
Alone as Moon howls at midnight
Keeping gargoyles company
That eerily await guests
Who never warmly greet
Extended invitations
Hand written in blackletter.
But me, sitting side by side
Wrought iron window locks
Dreaming of daylight
In visions of moonlight,
I have lost all initiative
To compete with vines
Growing up the side of my body
So I slump into my sleep
Borrowed by the moon.
On the note that I wrote
I said I wasn’t able to grow
It had two long names
I’m not about to repeat
But at the end of the letter
I had two last words
That never came out
Because I had become afraid of you
And then I left unheard
With a broom in my hand
Sweeping up each piece
That shattered as I wept
About the loss of a book
Written two pages at a time
As if it knew it’s turn
And I shall not return
For I have a note in my pocket.