Faint Echo

Transmission loss is inevitable
With such broad spectrum distortion
Carrying a candle through darkness
Is a miner for gold
Or coal
Or anything that matters
To the lords of the underground.
But when I yell
It echoes back to me
Around the field
From the trees
From the hill
Between the buildings and back,
Which gives me motivation
To try again
Though my understanding is faint
As I watch a blowing bag
Floating in the wind.
Today it is not dusty,
Though a slight breeze comes on,
It is muggy and heavy
An extra 30 pounds to a person
That sweats through a shirt
With the mere though of lifting
An arm in toil.
So where do I sit
In such heavy silence?
At the crossroads
With a miner on my shoulder
Torn down ligaments
Effortlessly gazing
But with sharp eyes watching
Everything being lost.

Slave’s Still Fight

I am immense
And stuck
And broken in my battle;
Giants tearing trees
And Titans throwing boulders.

How do I convey my meanings
When I am unreasonable
Living inside a dream
Of everyone’s meaning well.

Does my habit become your habit?
Do I lose myself into you?
Does my soil sprout many plants?
Can I hope to grow with you?

For my beast of rage
Within my deep breaths
Is evermore, everclear,
And hoping for more tomorrow
For my heart fights back
My heart fights for freedom
In a change
That cannot grow faithfully
To the slave of a great wrong.

Fermented Madness

I awoke into my madness
Blind, awake
Lifeless but my breath
And all around me spanned vines
Crawling amidst my thoughts
Scaling trees
Leaving me a gnarled world
As if each fruit I picked.
Dreaming as I lay awake
Of fermented terroir
Calmly settling inside the vice
A cork upon thy voice.
Can sweet time carry a vision?
Can it send me notes?
For not too soon shall I carry home
What lay me into madness.

Bellows

This cold landscape bellows,
Blowing endlessly
With a high pitched wallow
And I am not a voice in it.
No animated gust of white dust,
No longing wave of seed heads bobbing,
No tall tree, naked and exposed
Arms wide open
Awaiting for the sun.

This cold landscape bellows,
And I sit in isolation
Completely enveloped
By a drawn sensation.
Dampness smouldering the fire
As snow melts to ice I sit upon,
And the red tinge of frozen willows
Keeps this glowing fire
I have not set.

River

A
I’m a mighty river
G
Blowin’ down today
F
The sky she seen me
G
My emptiness so cold

So she let er rain
All night till I drowned
Soaked every tree and shrub
Clung to my banks of rock

I roar with my head high
Every cold, cold black night
No need to set me loose
I am no eagle cry

Long ago my destiny
Was carved into the earth
Mountain streams far away
Come to me so cold

Healing Is Still

When the streets bleed
With vibrating violence
We know that only scares the guilty
Hanging like
The victims they laid
Aside in their greed;
Healing shall still be far away.

When grass grows
Over crumbled ruins
Abandoned and exposed,
Rebels of a forgotten war
Who plundered all its worth
Relaxing in their misdeeds
Shall fever in the night
And visions reminding them
Healing shall still be far away.

When flags tear at their seams
Weakened in the wind
Salt licking at the sides
Of metal catastrophes
Blowing weeds that take control
Shall struggle upon the ground
Understanding their due;
Healing shall still be far away.

When the last engine
Seizes from strain
Deep in jungle rain, overgrown
And wildcats become predator
Most feared and most bestowed
Vines and trees, all wide and tall
Laying over all regrown
Healing shall still be far away

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Reworking (day 3202)

I’ve roamed here before
Last years summer heat
Lazing about the full grass
Cautioning the flies
That swell when the breeze dies down.
These cows they look familiar
But the birds, they’re all new
They have a shrill
That reminds me of chicks
Taking flight for the first time.
I’ll watch the leaves blow
Flashing me their white underbellies,
A reminder that even trees
Have a sensitive side
And to mind where I choose to reap
So that even the Sun knows
I have heeded its cry.

Lost River (day 3144)

For what should not
Like the greens in Spring
Vines creeping
Up the sides of your leg
Moss involved in lineage.

Memory was lost
With blue-black baskets
That bobbed unevenly
About hands of ancient grain
Settling into the hallows.

And River flowed
With anonymous voices
That reached the trees
And clouds, boulders, and lichen,
And touched the lips
Of each those lost.

Un-Changed (day 3138)

When the wild worlds awoke
A thunderous cackling was heard
Mystics remained calm
But civilians, no they ruptured
Into the great wide open hands
Of the Gods they revered.
Some, well, some squandered their money
Buying useless diplomas and
Servitude obligations.
Some fell to darkness with devices
Emitting radioactive lights
And chaotic beeping.
Some fell into wildness
Like the river in Spring
Bounding over freshly fallen trees
And moss so thick
It became a cloak for their own dreams.
There was no end promised
To the deafening roar,
No scientific projection
Or mathematical calculation
That could speak for the Gods
Who had thus become maddened.
And in the end,
Well, there was no end
For it was never signaled,
Never announced over loudspeaker
Like each modern God so famed to do,
It was subtle, and thus remained unchanged.
It was the civilians
Who had changed, too busy caught up
To notice that they had changed
And what they had changed for
Had long since been gone away.

Be A Lover (day 3131)

Be a lover,
Be the greasy spin
Of mind in madness,
Spiral and sway
Of clouds and trees.
Be the cheap section
Of a good time song list,
And missing strings
On a good sounding guitar.
Be a warm evening
As buzzing whips of
Crackling cans opening,
And a creaky lawn chair
Hopes for strength.