For if I got to sail’s end
Upon the glee of life
Should shake the dust
From each thy sword
To battle, ho! Thy fun!
Not of angry blood spilled
In trod battlefield,
Nor in a race of men,
But in thy quest of spiriting
Each bone amidst my quest.
Shake me, again!
For should I not arise
To meet each day with grit,
I should sooner be trampled afoot
Each horse drawing mighty Hades
Crumpled into an unfit mess
Deserveth of lack spent.
So gracefully, then,
I grab thy sword
Clean ‘er pommel to point
Place her not to rest at bay
Amidst cocooning leather bound,
Place her strong within thy grasp
Of ambition and desire for life!
Tag: end
Whisper of Elephants (day 3137)
And the whisper of tides keep rolling
That makes the engine hardly slowing
In a growing pain of knowing
For all elephants have gone blind.
In an innocent game she was glowing
Until a judge became the one blowing
Lost in depths of spiraling
The end was all she could find.
Then all at once there came a calling
An old standard with sweet beckoning
With wallets that were fattening
Only hygiene long left behind.
So the two and their sweet romancing
Called the pastor who came running
He knew what was then demanding
No opposition of any kind.
And like buskers at the happening
They all packed up and left no remembering
A lot like old elephants fattening
No story left on each their mind.
It’s Not A Job (day 3015)
I’ve been sad lately,
Sad or introspective
It’s sometimes hard to tell
What the difference is,
Isn’t it?
Trying to decide what is better:
Sunset or sunrise.
You know me,
I’ve always been a sunset
Kind of person.
It’s like I’m seeing the end
And not wanting it to end,
Or perhaps it’s
The overwhelming work
Still to be done here.
And yet my hands do not tire
Finding tasks
That take less mental strength
And more physical exertion.
These are nice tasks
That leave me sweating
And feeling like I’ve done
A job that needs to be done.
Revival (day 3004)
The end is not the end
We think we know it is;
Skinny knees lost in the breeze
Flowing through the heart.
– An awful start –
– And dust came –
Into the very spot
I had come to like so well,
And a special stop
To regain what remains…
For it is not the end,
For it is never in the end!
Just a different start
To revive this believing heart.
Window Eyes (day 2969)
Windows wash away the pain
And the Dust settles
And my Gods lay their hands
Onto my sunken shoulders
And say: “My son, my son.”
And like the letters
That fade away
At the end of bent pages,
These eyes begin to close
And this chapter finds its end.
End/Begin (day 2866)
Compression is an alibi;
Dense earth puddling
And flowers suffering
For there is no space to grow
Until Worm makes its way
Casting its gold
Into trueness of soil
With no damage plan
Becoming the end of the road.
That Was Then (day 2863)
If that was then
Then this is by no means the end,
Two wheels rolling
And clouds so clear
Even birds faintly pass between them.
A dollar is gone.
Was it an even game?
A hand that served up
Delicious things, unnamed.
An engine that roared
As it began.
Lucky is every lost soul traveling on;
Full tank and such sweetness of a radio,
Then by two, sun’s beating in
Escaping for a moment into shade.
Watch Clouds and every bird so clear.
That was then and now is the end.
To An End (day 2597)
Walked the seas and weathered the rain
Woke up in morning’s frost
Felt snowflakes upon my nose
Hot sun upon my ears
Wind blew off my worn out hat
Dust flew in my eye
Humidity soaked me inside out
Shriveled me up like a raisen
Saw through twenty three hours of darkness
Never slept for twenty four days straight
Walked upon burning sand
Slept upon jagged rocks
Met a mosquito in a spiders web
Fell into a great bear’s den
Entangled by a caterpillar’s cocoon
Demonized by a shadow
Yet still I look for tomorrow’s bread
As today has come to an end.
The Boxer (day 1933)
You were a boxer
Every Thursday night
After Big Jim’s Saloon
Took a bottle and you
Out to a cobblestone night.
A muffled mind with intention,
Fireworks covered in mud,
And a slow slur that wound up
Like Roadrunner
Walking a tightrope,
The top rope
Of a dark, four cornered ring.
You liked the big city
Because your slow down
Never coincided with a dead end.
Your betting days
Flashed jackpot on your bedroom wall:
Red, green, and yellow.
And your highschool sweetheart
Hung alone on peeling paper
That crackled back at you
As you walked naked
From your bedroom
To a comfortable routine
You knew so well.
Storm (day 1897)
Picture if you will
And together in a spell
From the start it was a myth
And you cried as if unearth
My tonic was the birth
To last unlike death
Gathering wind
Gathering storm
Gathering the eyes
Of ten thousand hungry men
Entrapped, entranced
In a stately march
Will I live alone?
Will I seek a heart?
And to the end
I collapse once again
Longer then our wind
Thicker then our storm
And then all at once
Dropped, it was to end.