Lonely
Like this ghost
I whisper my secret stories
Unwilling to chill
My nervous twitch.
My veins have begun to bulge,
My forecast is for rain,
My tulips are still
A long cold wait away.
So this whisper caresses
My ghostly remains
Turning effortlessly
Against swirling wind,
And painting my brightness
Gray, weathered and stained.
Tag: ghost
Fever
When you look at me
Like I’m growing thin
Edges of my sloping chin
I walk amidst my fever ghosts
Lost, dark as night.
I feel the crown
Upon my heart
Fuse into my spine
That never woke
A fevered breath
That sounded hoarse as dust.
For when the game
Of morning light
Awakens this lost night
I will address
My dying breath
So delicate an embrace.
Remember (day 3161)
I was scared and cried
And let it all out
And wrote it into my book
Crushed and rushed
Into my heart
Floated on down the river
And there I stopped
Let it sink in
And whispered to a ghost
Who roused a joy
Hiding deep inside
Saying: “Remember your trust.”
Blinded Worship (day 3132)
Worship at the state of alter
For each breath reconciles
Lost wages at the gates of infirm.
And at dawn,
Ghosts shall bowl their syrup
Onto lawns of placid velvet
That feel unusually comfortable
In the absence of relativity.
Here it shall be
That gates no longer shine
For eyes used to the dark;
The gates have blinded
Mind Rumors (day 3073)
I want to hold you now
– But I am stricken
Though I do not know
Why I must depart and wait.
Thus my breath deflates,
And the ghost asks:
“What blows against your soul?”
But I do not know,
And I do not speak to it
For it spreads rumors
And my heart cannot handle
Any more rumors from my mind.
Ghost Path (day 3011)
I want to believe that I’m the ghost
Walking through the woods;
One small cackle,
A broken branch,
An index of places been before.
I collapse
And am the definition of un-sturdy
For my limbs are limp,
My eyes deep blue pale,
My skin, the colour of
Ten thousand sins
Washed with a rectangular bar of soap,
And hair touching my shoulders
That feels like spider webs
Through a barely audible path.
Tomorrow (The Double by Dostoevsky) (day 3000)
Tomorrow’s another day
Broken off and delayed
For a ghost has passed on through,
Spoken for a few.
And memory cannot pursue
What slanders overgrew
Like a lion amidst the chaos
He shall find the torn cloth.
What’s spoken could be mistaken
To proud to pass away
Unseen and unheard
Distance to a blockard
Dastardly and disheveled
To await another day.
Awaiting (day 2957)
Alone I awaited
Like a ghost I could see
I knew
I wore colours I needed
And embraced
My worn vision
Pale, vanishing
Twilight
Smokestack feelings
Carrying my wind tunnel
Like a Gypsy traveler
Upon my bent back
And singing my silence.
Symmetrical Truth (day 2915)
Questions become:
What about truth?
Along with an acre of pasture
There are moments of rain
That twist down the spine
Of Kentucky Bluegrass.
Deserted and alone
The ghosts run sordidly
Through shadows that come at dusk.
Follow the windrows
Carry each bundle lightly
With an eye for each special
Symmetrical glimpse.
Riverboat (day 2888)
When the winds keep blowing
What does it look like outside your window?
Clashing hearts wrecking
What lonely clouds could share
And a one eyed ghost singing ballads
Heard down at the local bar
That kept on crying
In spite ten thousand broken hearts
Laying open on the dirty floor
So that in one blissful moment
A riverboat will come a gambling
Setting sail for better shores.