Fire Making (day 2251)

There’s nothing quite like starting a fire
From the very kindling you’ve gathered
Shaved flakes of fresh wood
Because woodsmen don’t use paper
To start their fires.
Each piece of wood weighed and measured
To match each flames intensity
For in its time that fire shall get
A new piece as its fuel.
Handling an axe isn’t a light days work
It’s sharp, and heavy,
And you’ve really got to swing it hard
I you want any work done at all,
For your fire to get nice and tall.
Then as night sets in, darkness itself,
Warmth from your toil and support
Comes bellowing out
In calculated intensity
From within the fire you’ve set
And worked as a good night beacon.

I Am Tired (day 2178)

I am tired
Like a sunset breeze
Bending thin shoots
On an old willow tree.
With every step I take
Dust circles out
From my heavy footfall,
And a choir of baritone singers
Follow me
Amidst my stretching shadow
And slumping aura
Saying hello to heaven.
My hands lightly rest
Upon a peeling fence post
Heavily feeling the paint
Crackle at my touch.
From this angle
From the seat of my
Creaking rocking chair
I look out over the grassy horizon
And slowly wander off
With a happy trailing thought.

Silence Be Thy Name (day 1782)

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.

Hologram (day 1561)

I learned my anxiety is a hologram.
I felt heavy steps upon late sleeps
That woke me up into darkness.
I lunged deeper into an evil battle
Spoken in tears and whispers,
Draining out sweat and
Tearing my limbs, one by one.
I shuffled my restlessness
To steal my ‘buts’ and ‘nos’
From every word I heard this voice speak
Until even I had lost this anxious feeling,
Leaving me reflecting previous states
Of a captured image,
Shifting from frame to frame.

Rolling (day 11)

Exciting elaborence of twisted tangles
Following the rivers of nostalgia and indulgence
Tampering the side effects of sickening reverence
Slide. Slide with it and glide.

Divine, prosper and prophecize with siblings
Ranting and raving at disgruntled earthlings
Disgusted with the forgotten underlings
Roll. Roll with it and glide.

Take your time and flick the coward
Maybe the disturbance will move forward
Laughing and following and lack of regard
Heavy. Heavy with it and glide