Today I choose full love
That grapples at my conscious edges
My error code
Tumbling down dark mode numbered lines,
Plainly and painfully
Guarding my thought patterns
That lead me away from full love
Which I choose to keep today
In my basket of offline organics
Springing to life within me.
Chilling me, my bones;
Solar vision of a home.
Leave sense alone,
For good can be struck
Gathered at
Legs of a newborn.
Forgive this faintest vision:
Whelping at green gates,
Unable to return this burden
To a rusty hand that remains
Steadlock,
A wooden helm,
For sorcery:
Electric sounds gurgle on.
Mission of lost specifics,
Vague and cold and distant offers
Scrawling deeper into well lit halls
Piano key footsteps;
I’m an anarchist loosing it
Blessed closing song
Holding a chord
Of a subtle melody
Breaking my consciousness.
Enter the Maestro
Long silence and little chatter
Shiny little black shoes
From where I sit
Clacking animatedly
Excited anticipation
Thus begins.
Rusting cello strings
Played in the lower key of E Minor
Pounding but softly on the frets
As a window amidst rain
Can only feel
Agony of the heart
Echoing off engineered walls
Settling to silence
Little flutter.
Hover one moment
About the lower E Minor chord,
Wait for no other beast
At the breast of emancipation
For it shall be only
Figures you’ve called out;
Mighty turmoil
Dripped from thy chin
Upon ancient grains of wood
So cherished between fingers
Resonated into hearts
Of forgotten sadness.
Silence.
No more can movement
Break the spell of horror.
Deathly pale voids;
Look back, unrecognizing
Distracted
Caught in a forever key of E Minor
That remains as sustain
Lost to the world.
There were nights
Candle lit
I miss you
Romantic deep and long steps
Within, longing
For a simple breath
In such sensitive
Delicate transmissions
Agonizingly alone
Yet fully romantic
This was the night
There.
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!
My main emblems
Have begun to fade
Into a soft glow
An aura
Of whispers and tilting
With wind bending
My point of view
So that birds land
Upon my boughs
To which I can take
No meaning hidden
And softly acknowledge
Ancient Gaia’s shift
As seasons go.
Though I fall far from the Pacific’s graceful shores
I swim with my head held high
Through sea-birds and sea-weeds
And crabs at my toes.
A memory I chose to keep
Brings a feather to the ground,
The wind high on snowy mountains
I can see from the shore
With city sprawl developments
Slowly creeping further West.
So I sing to the lapping
Of this cold ocean’s running tide.
My musings of a sandpiper
Leaving its webbed footprints there,
And barnacles in tidal pools
Slowly draining you know where.
Take my visual fragments
And place them at the foot
Of an old chedi,
For I don’t want my queues
To scatter my own thoughts
Like a back alley
I’ve stood for too long admiring.
Take my meaning
And lessen it’s grip
For it crawls
And has not yet learned
The intricacies of
Falling and getting up,
Though these scuffed knees
Have surely tried
Against the pain.
Hold my hand and remember
That I’m not here for a long time,
This shall become dust
And my subscriptions shall expire
Like organics back to earth,
Like music into silence
For it is without question
That life surely begets death.
Beautiful lines
Caress my pages –
Align my moments
With mysterious sages,
Which leaves me sitting
Amidst my cages
Wondering devilishly
Where art thy key?
Here is an atmosphere closing in,
Here is our synchronicity,
Here is a night of Queer as Funk,
Here is a global revolution.
Short crops and jean shorts,
Left hands and unimosity.