Who are you?
What is your sound/vision?
What guides your call?
Deep gulps of morning coffee
Flickering sounds
An empty wall
With little splash marks
Years of service gone by.
This pen fades
The more I write,
Like fallen leaves
Into enrichened soil
Rhythms have lost my voice
Telling me of better days.
What is wrong with crumbling ground
Dirt building up and softening corners
As messages to my former youth.
I met a truth I should have known
Though long ago I had forgotten then
Stolen by a bass kick drum.
Trim around my old entrance door
Has worn a little more since,
Stars still there to light my heart.
Don’t let me see it
Or I’ll run away with my low E chord
When this silence is unbearable.
Cracks again begin to open up
Time can test and I’ll whistle along
Nail and hammer I’ll carry on.
One
Oneness
The Way
A single heart
Forest’s path is empty
Echo is just you
Thoughts are all your own
Beyond reason.. sure
And in good nature, hopefully.
One
Sun
Moon
Earth
One
One
Has distant friends
And one multiplied by anything
Becomes anything
One has its beginning
A small seed
A drop of rain
A heart beat
A tongue
One’s voice falls silent
One’s sight grows distant
One’s touch is careful
One’s feelings are forever lost
In a sea of comfort in one’s own
So one grows tired
This single heart
So one’s thought may stop
Even just for a divine pause
To find one’s way
Again
One
I’m gone
It has taken me a while
But I sit here
Gone
Watching the elongating
Aloe vera leaves
Reach
So far from the road
That once brought me here.
I’m gone
My path long overwritten
Slight smile
Of downtrodden blades
And the omnipresent moss
Setting it’s tangles
Deeper than I can ever watch.
I’m gone
Noises from the party
Barely audible
Where my anxiety levels
Scream
An inability to be present
Sits waiting in blades of grass
I walk amongst alone.
I’m hijacking emotional waves
Leaving the strong winds
For cracked nuts
And a fire, unattended.
My teeth hurt
And my coffee’s gone cold
– Toxic lush
Even when hot.
A game, I’m gone
Struck me on the shoulder
But hoping for an open minded Lady
Who gave a wrinkled
Promiscuously acquired
Five dollar bill
To a tourist fear trap
Like a Merry Christmas card
Unsigned.
But I’m gone
With hotel room vibes
Blinking lethargically
Stuck in deeper thoughts
That have taken me
Deep inside
This unattended fire,
Waiting for a spark to arise
Within me
Like Cupid’s golden arrow.
Seperatism loses me
It’s a lost art
Guided by a nobody train
And nobody to sing
Nobody has sung.
I look into your eyes
And I see missing
I see wallowing sorrow
And a stained glass window
Echoing a cold statue
With angel wings
Sainted.
We can be friends
But I wont ask to meet you there
Instead
Walking alone
Listening to nothing more
Than each voice inside my head.
Black night
Blackness
Darkened entreating
Bespoke and misleading
Howling
Danger
Sour
Altered vision
And missing time.
There’s a mountain of crows
Crawling about my mind.
Distant snowy peaks
Tall, looming firs
And the faint, eerie howl
Of the wind
Settling through furry boughs.
I dont want comfort anymore
I want slow, agonizing pain
Of cold feet and biting breath.
Let darkness fill my voids
With only the fire
Inside my eyes
Feeding the warmth.
Here, I will stack wood
Against stained boards
Of an ancient vision;
Architectures ancestor
Where notches have been worn
By our rattling wind
That kept the night
Hallowed at home.
What is the real reason for my inner voice?
Is this ego?
Have I whispered so loudly
To all Grandfather trees
That my echo and sensations
Are no longer my own?
Has my inner bird
Whistled alone
In surrounding scenes of chaos,
And called home
Mother Hen
Whom I sit under this great canopy with?;
Oaks and Elms and Maples.
Does my voice match my vision?
Do I see sky blues,
And earthy browns,
With forest greens all around?
Or have I become muddled
Lack of colour:
Grays, black, and cement.
What is the hardest thing?
A glowing orb at an unending tunnel
Flashing lights in otherwise darkness
Moments of stillness broken by reality
A whisper one still remembers
Sun so long ago
And a night that must end.
But how soft it can often hit
Like haze on a full moons glow
Orbs opening
And a bead of sweat upon thy lip.
Pain can remain
And lost within thy brow
A handful often mistaken rashly
Just as this lingering upper back kink.