Poor Silly Darling (day 301)

Poor silly darling
With her eyes open so wide
It’s such a shame
The moon passed it’s time
Sailing the dark seas
Forever calming
Amongst the rustling leaves

Poor silly darling
With her arms so comforting
They haven’t told stories
They’ve shared life
With the ailing soldiers
They’ve doped dressings
Amongst the morphine lectures

Poor silly darling
Who I love there so quietly
Books on her lap
And her feet resting flat
The river that runs
Along high mountain plains
Is always cold against the virgin skin

Eyes (day 291)

The eyes of the tired
Close at all hours
The eyes of the tired
Will miss a few verses
The eyes of the tired
Have journeyed through the night
The eyes of the tired
Weren’t idle last night

The eyes of the tired
Say things words cannot portray
The eyes of the tired
Work overtime, on the weekends
The eyes of the tired
Haven’t called their grandmothers
The eyes of the tired
Rest a while with me

Skin (day 283)

Awake I lie cowering in the cold
Asleep I remember nothing
The cold seems to suck the will to live
Knees so sore they could cry

Rhythmic music penetrating the deepest confines of my soul
Letting the cold seep further in
My eyes, they slowly close
Inward they lean, down they venture

While the spiral takes me in
The cold soothes my sin
With tiny little dancers
I begin moving to the tune of my skin

Business, As Usual (day 267)

I wander the streets in a seeming cloud of confusion
Faces laughing, talking, swearing in my ear
Sometimes at me, most of the time amongst themselves
And I think: “How obscure this society is,
How little their lives seem to impact mine
Yet without their nonchalance about my business
I would have no business at all”
So it is this way, that I wander through town
Looking upward at the rooftops above
Smiling at strangers, that are confused with my gaze
I notice their inadvertent discomfort at seeing my own eyes
Staring right back at them, with a smile written across their lids
But mostly I notice their interest, behind the scenes

People usually have their own agendas
Scuttling here and there to get done what is to be done
Ignorance yells at me, through some of their gazes
Yet, in some, I see interest and kindness

Today an old lady stopped me in the street
“Isn’t it beautiful” she asked of me
“Look up” I directed
As we both gazed up at the high rise
Which just then, in that moment that we stood there
Had turned a magical gold
We both realized and were inspired by the act of sharing
What a few words of kindness can do towards a better tomorrow

Listless (day 264)

Listlessly dreaming of a flat open plane
A horizon so still that the sun never sets
Waiting for a turn in the road to break my concentration
Eyes turning beet red from the heat of the moment
Dry air beating against my parched eyes in an attempt to clear off the steam

Sick and twisted lines cross the illuminated barriers
Intelligence calls my own lines to be blurred
Solid as they are, drawn as they list-fully praise
Crawling on all fours they go, tail between their legs
I sit and wonder where the time has ever gone

A Weary Traveler (day 209)

A weary traveler
Asleep on the bench
Tells stories not in his breath
But in his hunching
Like the slow arc
Laid about by the dropping sun
The rhythmic tide
Thrusting is weight
In an effortless fashion

A weary traveler
Tells more stories of destinations
Relates roads walked
And styles of architecture used
Within his own steady eyes
Like the flame that sits: ignite
A weary traveler
Knows in all due time
The stories worth telling
Do tell themselves out

Rambling Eyes (day 203)

I stumble around the corners looking for new possibilities
Forgetting the last treasures I’ve found
With no regard for children I’ve left alone
Or mothers I’ve condemned to home

Sleep at last takes its icy grasp
About the neck of a startled child
Eyes wide and thumb in the air
And mesmerized by talking bears
Huddling in corners of this walled escape plan

I look up for a moment, struggling against all odds
Into deep eyes of a street light
Taking a moment to adjust to sprinkling pixie dust
Layered upon my brow with thick ale (in magic)

Morning’s wake brings silent whispers
Helpful advice and a companion of silence
Breathing the full mountain view into effect
There is hardly a time for thought and mind
Yet in this serene, there is no need, save Love

And down down again I trudge into depths
Sought out only by those deepest carnal desires
Those smitten with the most magical of potions
Perhaps, one hopes, grace is still found in the journey

The Heavens (day 195)

This journey has been tortured and turned with the omnipresent glare of the eagle
The desires of conquest have been hindered by the scorn of angels
The love has never been spared by cupid, nor by a hungry lover’s eyes
Yet the gears still turn, the ride still rolls

This ascent has been beaten with brutality of breath
Baited with the promise of one pure and descending glance towards the worlds we’ve passed through
A view from the heavens, a wonderfully epic moment of hysteria
As the clouds below part and clarity is felt like the needle sinking in

Mother, won’t you cry with me, die with me
As the young ladies last romance curled its gnarly fingers around the seeping demise
Withered air collapsing into the cruel hands of zero gravity
Mother, won’t you cry with me? Die with me.