You’re not a hero until you’ve carried, tall,
Souls of motherless children upon a back so bent;
Until weather pulls your burning heart,
And swarthes upon unkempt stars.
It’s here that builds a hero’s heart,
To link a master with learning’s start.
For now and then we think we are
Beyond the truth; not quite so far.
Take your truth and run it far,
Relive a thousand lives astart!
But don’t mistake a hero’s heart
For social injustice, as gone so far.
Take your ends and tie them tight!
The ride is long and plenty steep,
And all great wisdom is buried deep.
Category: fantasy
Your Back So Bare (day 1292)
I climbed upon your back so bare
To breathe, inhale, a purer air.
Here I gasped with jubilent glee
Worshiping in holy ceremony.
You were not as you’ve been before,
Coming to me as if from yore,
We met and clasped and built upon;
Here we made our own love song.
Forget Deceit (day 1291)
Weather change upon my chains.
Warning bell remains the same.
I know it’s there; illuminate.
Can’t forget animosity,
Can’t forget building tide.
Undecided sayer’s name,
Unto the end, within our midst,
Lot of whispers and deceit.
Calling me, your name.
Secret here cannot remain.
Where does once begineth from?
Is it all just amend, amen?
This is not Life (day 1290)
What are these breaths of terror streets?
What bringeth this indescribable blabble?
Shall it speak for all of my soul: truths,
Or shall mystery shroud over, unspoken?
Un-mystery my salad meats, for I am becometh origin.
Controlling dreams in an undecided, unclad barbaric soul.
Feeding on these terror streets.
And here I yell: “Let these snakes regain territory!”
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
I shall not feed on unsuspecting vegetation.
This is not life.
Echo War Call (day 1289)
The moments begun to surrender
Time is but nigh, let’s begin.
Found all tools for plunder,
All that’s heard echoes war call.
Infinite darkness upon us,
Army’s madness carries fury.
Screeching, hollering and bloodshed,
Nobody ever remains the same.
Sadness looms like darkness,
Shame is every man’s eternal sin.
Nothing heals in these fields,
Where once grew such forgiveness.
Biggleding and Figgleding (day 1286)
I tempted my fate,
Believing in my firm footsteps
That wiggled and diggled
And figgled and biggled.
To where was my answer,
To whom was an impulse.
To lie by my lover,
To step foot in her hearth
That lay idle; upon
Yet so astray.
For merry was my wish
To Blondy and her fish,
Merry was an inheritance
That clothed itself in
100 year old furs
And danced around with glitter
To the steady beat
Of my leather soles
As I walked on further
Towards my fate
And an undying appreciation
Of the biggleding and figgleding.
Sewn With My Name (day 1285)
When you whisper my name a thousand miles away
A little fairy floats from you on to me
With a gift wrapped in satin, sewn with my name.
Moments keep building through conquest and torture,
With every gamble perching icicles upon our brows
That tickle and fancy and etch out our fate.
My deepened breath at the sight of your fairy
Keep me awake, for no thought should go wasted;
No lingering memory or heart pitter-patter missed.
Just like my serpent, I’m alive with no name,
All else flickers and slithers; lost into bane.
‘Goes here with my fairy, a thousand miles away.
Gray and White Breaks (day 1283)
Can you follow me upon a speeding star
Along wild roads where wind’s through our hair?
I’ve never been out past the seasons mild rain
To be seen once again by the woman with no name.
Long walks together carry a rhythmic harmony
That pulls and begs and lifts love, my name.
Like long winded breaks I’ve fallen over you
Where tomorrows forever will champion my heart.
Hurtling and spitting with venemous fury
Gray and white breaks shall be my amorous flurry.
Should ever your fancy be found to be unstrung,
Let my guiding thunder be the reason you run.
And all over islands, heated by warm sun
Shall be our own quarters, to dine in gay coitus.
Not Alone (day 1282)
I am not alone in this.
I am not standing here;
Soft music serenading
My lonely heart.
I am not a typist
Rhythmically dancing to
Magical clicks spelling off
Ransom notes of varying
Degrees of importance.
But my fingernails are delicately pruned,
So wands and spells can expertly roll – Full of life and other such necromances –
Off and away and beyond
These simple imaginations of a man,
Not alone, but lonely.
Mind Space (day 1278)
I want to fall into a little break in space
Like angels upon lazy-boys,
Smoking cigarettes with the nuns.
My open mind shifts constantly
Between a bad habit and good morning sun,
Where there’s no better maker,
No fuller shade of gray
To take care; once was into the future.
French rhymes upon my tongue,
Little tea cup stains around my working scribbler,
Two dollars for the road,
And my mind’s not made up yet.
