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 my experience
Loaded from past perceptions
Rhythm
Blood is the feeling
Dance like a zebra
A jungle in the desert
Beat ever pounding
Inward inward inward
Fading out
And lost.
This cannot continue for too long
An ending shall develop
To which all will lapse from
And then reborn
Like Spring of an ancient rhythm
Moment in time
Reflecting on the sweet sound
Of a trickling creek
Joined by two trails
That are worn by wild game.
When I sung the rhythm I had heard
When I awoke to what my soul knew
I damaged my ending that grew so tall
Deepness I had lost so well
Closed a window, let go my hold.
When I walked so heavy footsteps
I yelled my name in vain
I sunk my teeth into giant fir
Wilting at the corners of
My jagged sharpened heart.
When I sat and stole two moments of
Silence gathering all around
I witnessed a closing balance
That took my mind away
Leaving me with ten thousand spaces
Previously occupied my mind
Held now for emptiness
No depth that I could feel remained.
I’m going to crawl out sideways
Like I’m carrying a hard edge
My rhythms backbit the scene
So I was ongoing madness descended
No matter the words that I spoke
Two syllables released my mouth
Gravelling and loosening
With a steel shovel reminding me
That a cold soup is awaiting my return
And a method of grandeur
Has gone forbidden and exhausted
And dormant as dogs fall down.
It’s hard
Each morning’s steps
Each routine task
Each day hours slip on by
Yet each day wanes,
Loses it’s time,
To begin again another.
How does this rhythm
Speed up so
How do we slow down time?
How do we fit
Each task we wish
Into one full day
So that the next
Anew and awake
Shall meet a whole new list.
Your heart beat upon mine, so,
That left me listening;
A window opened for my depth.
Here, I tarried at this sweetest scent
Making you the only known
As I witnessed an orchid open into bloom
I held my hand so strong
Against the sweetness on my tongue
And rhythm abreast my chest.
Have you ever had the chance to leave your mind?
Take a running start and leave it down there
Magic in the heart and two more memories.
Makes me wonder where you’ve been gone so long,
Followin’ a path that weaves and lifts
Hollys and ferns and lichen too;
Rhythm and your blue and jubilant see
Fire in the palm of every river in you.
Happy is a guess I never dreamt for me,
I took another train through desert and stream;
Golden hours awaited at the end of a dream,
Though I never dared come again here.
Lonely is a story best served in the dark
That smells of an old wine and gold bound book,
Flipping to a page that never looked so good.
Words don’t make sense, misunderstood,
And a hollow in the voice that spoke to me.
Gibraltar in every step at the foot of the bed;
Carry it again for the weight in my head
Is following a noise at the tip of my tongue,
Carry me alone, so I’ll suffer there instead.
Alone I stumbled into my abode
No chance to take a dance
Riddled with a magical number
Two straight shots at the prize
Rhythm took the night away
In a solitary game
Asleep the poor man went again
To wake into another day
Walking hides my feelings,
Like a good turn on the wrong road.
I’ve shaven all my eyebrows clean
And recited fifteen lines of poetry
From Edgar Allen Poe;
So I don’t lie here alone
As dusk settles
I lie here with Gothic mansions
And morbid expressions
Upon cobblestone roads
And lampposts casting awkward glances.
Faint sounds infiltrate
My active imagination
Leaving goosebumps
Chanting spell bound rhythms
Into my sandy shoes
Lightly dusting the ferns
That play havoc
On the rose of my thought
Exploding into the diary of this pain
I have left behind again.