Clouded footsteps
Grocery bags
Minimalism
Month: November 2019
Valley Knight (day 3086)
Morning breath of Saturday glory
Blinding in its sight
Focused on a path of tomorrow
For today is inescaped.
And far above on Midnight’s hill
Rode a tall and lanky Knight
Who dreamt of far off Damsels
Who wore bright flowers of ancient pattern.
Down they swooped and lush they bled
For their heart was bound thy sleeve,
And bottled in a pit of agony
Lay the tremors that fought against
Each and every missing link
Of ancient pattern’s bloom.
But there it grew, there it lifted
Above horizon and into morn’,
There the sight of our dear Knight
Rode amidst Valley full.
Embers of Your Heart (day 3085)
I wanted to climb into the embers of your heart so badly
That I wrote your name in ink ten times
And spoke to the Gods the colour of your eyes.
Your hair bound me in embrace,
And when I took my breath back inside my soul
It was your braided hair with its loose end
That was my direction home.
Each peak of the surrounding alps pinched the crisp air
So vividly, so clearly, that the tingling
Felt within my altitude heart
Brought a reverie so daring and honest
That even the Sun began to expose a pathway
Leading from my very spot to your omnipresent aura
I could feel beside my soul.
Various shades of darkness rode the wave of mystery
Deep within the bowels of a murky and eerie call,
And the source of each ripple floating outward
Seemed to be the very depth of my footsteps forth
Enticed by my soul belief that your chasm,
Your pulsating organ of electric arcs
Was my guiding orb I could see
Even as I swallowed water as breath
And traced the silhouetted branches
That floated above my remaining thoughts.
Snow (day 3084)
I’ve fallen in love
With a white angel
Who falls so tenderly,
Floating like a falling leaf
Memory departs from me.
Sensation descends upon my brow
So fanciful of dreams,
So calming in nature’s way
That has a depth and crunch below
My wandering toes they go.
Consumed Precious (day 3083)
Your preciousness
I do not want to take.
I do not want to change
Each pure thoughts of your mind.
For in the end
What could become
Of each indelicacy
I had laid
Upon your brow
To lead you there?
And in the dance
Or necromance
I’d steal your deepest soul
Tattoo you
With six six six
Marked
Consumed my prey.
Tender Choice (day 3082)
I’m resting in a pool of blood
Taken my very veins
No longer am the man I was
Lost and listless thus I lay.
Once I had dreams so high
Freedom wasn’t just a word
But way of life we embraced truly
From choices we made every day
And a mindspace free of ads.
We called our neighbour each by name
With smiles so friendly we meant
And let our hair go wildly long
A symbol of better days spent.
And in our work, we called none work
For we smiled as we took our crafts
Each craftsman became their tools
Towards a need fulfilled.
We lost this great desire for grandeur
This misleading pretense
Veiling over all of humanity
Since human has become ruled
By magnetic storage and liquid display.
We lost grandeur
And picked up gravitas
Our guiding star
Hands to our hammers.
But now, says I in earnest,
Laying in my pool of blood,
What hath become of mine choice?
So tenderly awake no more.
Racket In My Brain (day 3081)
There’s a racket in my brain
That’s been gone for so long
That makes all the mess:
Chicklets on the table,
And memories of messages
Written in block
On beige walls of the cold school
Eluding so many.
This, as so,
Has taken up my mind
And left me unguarded
To the whims of the Mafia
We call World Order.
So where can I go?
Who can I look to?
For the racket in my brain
Seems to like all the rain.
Sun Beat (day 3080)
It is not for the beat of my drum
It is for the beating of the sun
Cooked in red/yellow rays
Reminding me of an old letter
That came in the mail
Holding three dried rose petals
And one single ring
Caressed in my worn hands
Like a mother would
On the day that love did win
That shall come to pass.
Guided Effort (day 3079)
Each bound of this effort
Shall be guided by an ethic
Thick and strong
And learned from teachers
Who have passed the cosmic test
Of ethically moraly taut strings
That have tested each suitor
Teetering on the brink
Of life’s precipice
In an act so noble
So filled with gravitas
So acutely aware and attentive
That each scope and legend
Becomes unto itself
An aura of valiant deed
To guide this said effort.
Resting Letters (day 3078)
The decorum of my heart
Washed away what little worries
Came to mind,
For deep within the bowels
Of this tanned and weathered soul
Rests an old dog
Reading a novel
Satisfied with the new leaf
Of time
That spreads its cape
Over the letters of you and I.