Permit Me Sight (day 2837)

Can one day your abundance touch me?
Truth like lightening bolts
Thrown from Zeus himself.
And my eyes shall see openings
From whence your sail shall catch wind,
Pulling me towards ancient speed
Roaring in fierce aftermath
Abundantly striking me free.

Inverted extramere
I shall not turn my eye,
Though wrath of the God shall torture me
For it is in his kingdom
You shall dare set me free.
And in my deepest of layers
– Of which only then permit me sight,
It has always been mine blindness –
Call on me to share.

Read me like I am all here,
Nor leave me without all signs.
There I sit in mine throne
Stretched in abundance and call,
Laid bare as shown Virgil
And my heart reigned for thy lightening bolt
Sight into thine eyes.

Misspent Soldier (day 2711)

They were called away
To a promised future
No clear sight far ahead
Vague plans, subtle promises,
Fame in modern times unment.
They mounted and faithfully
Road into the scene
No one there to greet them
No romantic sending off.
When skies turned blood red,
When comrades lay side by side
When torture was their enemy
No cotton handkerchief blew drying
For everyone was buckled down
Amidst chaos of the finest hour
A mission of uncertainty
And further, urgency
Flew towards in shrapnel
Devastating times of war.
At home awaited news at every hour
Mother, father, sister too
Hot soup for dinner every night
Hot tea to wake up to.

Sewn With My Name (day 1285)

When you whisper my name a thousand miles away
A little fairy floats from you on to me
With a gift wrapped in satin, sewn with my name.

Moments keep building through conquest and torture,
With every gamble perching icicles upon our brows
That tickle and fancy and etch out our fate.

My deepened breath at the sight of your fairy
Keep me awake, for no thought should go wasted;
No lingering memory or heart pitter-patter missed.

Just like my serpent, I’m alive with no name,
All else flickers and slithers; lost into bane.
‘Goes here with my fairy, a thousand miles away.

Sentence to Thy Name (day 1229)

Allowing punishment to crush ritual
Berating better senses of civility
Harshly, against cold stone under foot
Upon a wet and soggy day of death
Smeared between dark moist earth
And trampled, unkept grassy shag
This is not the end of an era
Nor end to a life spent well
It is the beginning of torture
Souls repentance; realization
Destruction on the darkest day of life
Standing, dripping, begging at the gates
Hallowed be thy name as birthright
Non-linear thus be thy path towards thee gallows
Distrust be cruelly written across thy brow
Hastily, uneven, unsymmetric, unceremoniously
Where shaggy be thy mane
Dies the sentence to thy name

Pushing Defeat (day 792)

I am pushing away my talents into a pit full of defeat
Losing my sense of touch as I turn off my eyes and shut out my ears

I am managing my vices into small little pockets
Keeping them close to reap what I fancy while ignoring the pangs

I am losing my stability that once held my shoulders back and head high
As I slouch forward at my torture all day passing wisdom into ignorant ears

I am glass without even a foggy decay bouncing about the oceans surf
No message, no inside, not even a small culture clinging to the rough edges

I am falling into the lost pages of all the dusty books
Pressed flat to be a disconnected memory with a faint lingering scent

But alas, I am a strong thought late at night when all else settles down
When the moon rises and coyotes howl and the sheets rumple at thy feet

Don’t Cry Father (day 479)

Without words there are no places to fit between the spaces that occupy the recesses of this lucid destined body
The examples of torture don’t phase thine countenance for they wreak not havoc upon the brain
Sure, in the sweet of night nestled amongst the cute lovers sleeps a sound, resolute companion
But the sounds that spread outward from the turmoil keeps even the lifeless awake at night
Perhaps it’s the bitter truth that doesn’t comply with the answers that have fallen into the cracks
The same cracks which have begun to play upon the misfortune that crawls out of the drainage pipes that lay rusting
Lack of use caresses even the sweet droplets of dust that dance around every corner of the damage
Don’t cry my dear mother, the day had to come eventually even if we wanted to abandon all that stinks of the truth
Don’t cry my dear lover who swirls around the nights thoughts with a magic only fitting for a witch
Don’t cry father, sent away is the bitterness that never had a safe storage space in your towering cabinets of force
And onwards and upwards the sands spin and roll and create new spaces in the holes that have been abandoned
Despise the coward who among all whispers and shouts at the same two demons, unable to answer his own requests
Rest now, in this sweet night that nestles itself amongst the cold flaps of a long draped winter jacket
Rest dear lover on the sweet thought that one more day shall come where only the good times will pass by your mind
Fear not the answers you have known the whole time

Below (day 312)

Today I bore the mark of a sinner
I walked alone and stared down the sun
Loaded pistols and switchblades
I left the house of the holy and
Walked through the dungeon of sin

Chains and clasps there littered the walls
Cold and uneven cementing
Picked at by years of torture;
I slept on these floors while I made love
To the angels that floated down from above

Glassy ponds sink dark inside
Uncharted landscape brewing deep below
The art of deception lies in the sheer
The reflection staring out from below
The dormant eyes that call out aloud