Restless and crow
Through eyes of Black
Long hair and a ruksack
With endless in tune
Trees in the night sky
Bridge by firelight
Morning in song
Murdered and wrong
Trying again to make friends
Crow and eleven
Mind here big step
Forward and lurching.
Tag: murder
Sworn (day 2781)
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.
Moon at Midnight – Part II (day 1976)
(part I)
I woke to complete silence
Yet my knees screamed louder the murder
When I shifted them from slumber
Half crosslegged I had fallen backwards
Into sleep that left smoke trails
Through my dreams.
My nose was hiding itself from the cold
I looked searchingly at the fire
I could feel wasn’t even hopeful.
My pack was close enough
So I knew where matches were
But kindling rested beside my axe
Yet to be shorn from its whole
So were the tea bags that would slowly ooze life
Back into my cold frame
Easily forgetting the eyes of last night’s terror.
I made it a habit not to look back
When I walked away from yesterday’s camp
You don’t need that to remember what’s already known
Like folded socks in the side of my pack
I was well kempt and had a full bottle of water
And the industrious chipmunk
Was happy to see me go
Understood by the sounds of his chatter
That followed me along a path
I was making with my compass pointing East.
My first few steps always remembered
What yesterday so easily forgot
So I stopped and untied my shoe
To clip my nails that were growing healthy
It’s much nicer to put on warm socks
Then cold and wet socks of the first light of morning
And my pack jingled merrily
As I swung it back on.
Scanning the vastness was hard to comprehend
What had alarmed me so easily
The night before,
What creatures our dark mind magically creates,
And now looking back at me was salal so thick
No ghost could sneak through
And my heart reminded my mind
To believe in thy safety one thousand times again.
Slowly my breath found it’s groove
Steadily flowing with each footstep
My packs new bumps settled itself softly
And the world began to expose itself to me
With every step a new angle
A new tree fallen sideways
A slug neatly stepped over
An unidentified toadstool
A river softly gurgling somewhere in the distance
An obstacle I’d have to traverse.
Pocket Watch (day 1490)
I’m starting to lose focus on time,
Like the 99 heading straight to Nowhere.
The capital city of: I’ve never been there.
Anger, danger, regret, strength,
Oblivion in a massive entanglement
Of red arrows and pick up sticks.
There was some antidote
As time slipped it’s age-old
Abbra-cadabra magic betwixt
Reason and murder, holy truth and destiny.
I can’t pass this challenge
Even though my perfect pocket watch
Clicks an even tick at high-noon.
I love, but this is no love.
Entangled with soul and wisdom,
Heartbeat to a slow beat
With loose morals and fast cars,
I’ve come too far to remember
My dotted lines without headlights.
I am not a man.
I’m a ’69 Camero with hot love in the back seat.
Sun (day 1480)
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.
Leftover Vixen (day 1208)
I’ve discovered a vixen
That wears death for flair.
She screams murder in the morning
And lifts weights with far off eyes.
I don’t care if you’re death
– Taxi waiting for a surprise –
I don’t care if you’re angling,
For mystery surprises me.
When leftover bottles
Start to yell “Yellow,” and my name,
I take offense to my obituaries
Scribed middle stanza.
I don’t care if you’re death
– Taxi waiting for a surprise –
I don’t care if you’re angling,
For mystery surprises me.
And late night as I’m wandering
Your plans flicker through my mind,
I’m leftover and gangrene
Slithering naked on the floor.
Recollection (day 986)
New shocks reverberate through my unwritten scores
Losing patterns fast
Into voids that ebb and flow
Lost transactions
Translations
Focused thought floating into ether
Weighted
Tied in to
Lied
And reminded every single day
Until a murder of crows
Takes flight
From which all is found
Recollected