Yesterday was a day to be soft
Be broken and be heard
Be calm and be reborn into consciousness.
Today is a day to be angry
Expose injustices, bloody untruths
And spit venom in the face of fear.
Tomorrow will be time to rebuild
Each and every institution that has fallen
For what can newly nurture.
I don’t want you to remember me
When you see daylight searching
Over twilight’s shoulder,
I want birds to scream bloody murder
Through their washed out faces
Long callused like knots
Grown out from tree trunks.
I want you to document my every step
That lives deep in the mud
Like you would document a nightmare
Scared of even breathing
For danger it would incite the demon
You most feared.
I don’t want you to remember me
For in your memory, icy cold
Shall rest my name, sworn.
You’re the burden I’ve never heard
Uncontrolled in pity and I’m settling scores
Set down the heavy anvil
Clawing at gates of hell
I’m living inside your head
Dirty conscience a bloody shame
Your battle’s one sad estate
Closed up the shutters
And left dying; vegetate
Your demons be your tickling chin
Twisting and reeling
So shall silence forever be thy name.
Diamonds and bootleggers and a minx on her shoulder
A lady of delight and her little soldiers
Crawled through dark night in pure delight
As whimsical militia men signaled a charge
But what of the giant whose knees’re all bloody?
What of sight who stands tall and proud?
When I’m awake I find balancing points
That trickle down through clouds and metaphors
Like sapphire jewels having a field day in stage lights.
I watch children sprinkle their knees with pixie dust
And women walking with protest signs
Covered in bloody tampons.
I cover my muesli in chia seeds and hemp hearts
Because I believe in a well balanced diet,
And stay up late at night with my lover, naked,
Talking about what turns us on.
When I’m awake I’m a well versed man
Who believes in a conversation
That can change the world,
And as I do this I break down my understanding
Of how the world can change.
I’ll always believe,
I’ll always buy second hand and resell what I don’t need
To a kind soul with a good home,
I’ll always enjoy gardens that feed my mind, body and soul
Like a calming glass of water,
I’ll always walk with my heart open,
And if that doesn’t make me balanced,
Then it’s sink or swim for me
In this world spinning like an old Russian top.
And I’m not afraid to admit that I’m not awake all the time
Because fuck, we all need balance.
To be the sun.
To scream bloody murder
And mean it in a good way,
To wake up and go to bed so consistently
Time pieces become obsolete
And there are no excuses anymore.
Oh, there are bad days
When fog rolls in,
Or random, insignificant civilizations
Decide to proclaim war
Upon their own protective shells –
An eco-systemic, all chemicals in
Kind of war that pins natural resources
And technology
Against simple biology and physics.
There are bad days when children of the sun
Who suckle auras of its very beams
Become stifled and trampled
Beneath plastic rubbish and footware
In an unmercifully ignorant act.
But then again, there are the good times
Which ignite passion,
A brilliance so glorious
Rapid transformations become
Supernatural and unprecedented.
Good times that feed millions of
Conscious and unconscious
Biological matter the very substance
They require to exist.
When these delicate rays are so respected
And in balance that they provide
Sweet little Gaia an answer.
Oh, to be the sun.
When twilight circles my mind like crows and shadows at the hour of feast
I wish for silence, a thousand feet deep.
A silence so lasting that breath trails off into
A frozen pane of windowless reflections,
And the moon clears it’s sleepy eyes
As it gazes over sharp backs of rocky mountains.
Stars must look different from up there, shining so bright.
I have always imagined they have different colors
As the temperature drops.
But from a thousand feet deep I can find only shadows.
I crawl upon bloody knees and fight for my own feast
Among crows and worms who, at this intimate an angle,
Scream like black night and wrinkled sheets.
I pause for a moment struggling to understand
Black lines that criss-cross my hands.
Black arcs that cap my fingernails, digging deep.
I find twilight again as thought slips from my conscience
And incoherent noise picks up again.
I was an angel;
Struggling against purpose,
Harboring desire
Deep within action words
That you could not hear,
You could not feel,
You could not understand…
But we floated
I was an angel;
Distracting minute details
Into synchronicity,
Juggling and balancing
And crawling beside
Straight lines
Wish-washing my roads
With gravel timelines..
Dirty bloody knees
I was an angel
Singing my love-rich song
With arrows and soft colours
Diluting my expression
Like overcast clouds
On damp, dreary days.
Long words lingering on,
Left behind in old thoughts.
It is not I who shelter your conscience from the bitter truth of denial
It is not my sword that slays last hopes in fitful cries about bloody battle grounds
It is not my spells which sheath truth to avoid speaking amongst those who whisper wrongs by name
Nor is it the timbstrels who dance around the spoils of victory
That shake the knees of that noble fervor so deeply rooted in passions teeth
It is the lofty words of treachery and treason that curse the steeds of ambition’s race
Settling into the bloody seat filled with boils and scabs
The leaches all gathered around, squishing about
“Accompany me, my little minions” says the goblin
Leading the insolent forward into the future
Slime lines followed the congregation as they went
Crawling from side to side about the blood
Not a legible word released from their bowels
“And now we shall all jump!”
And then that was the end
Splash