The Plot

Alliterate beings bound about

Illiterate minds cast shade in doubt

Literary figures stand strong

In this day and those beyond

Flash. 

Flow of the cold winter air. Circulating

In weathered strips of fermentation, the tears oft get lost in the creases-

Freely the fear freckles form

Uncanny.  A familiarity still-

As you’re left staring up the hill

Stone paths pronounced the trail

To the chapel house:

Where blackened shoes make their mark

Where wandering alibis come for their own

Where the darkness forms a cloud of clothes

Black and brown suits and slacks

Filtered grey veiled masks

In the interlude between patience and angst

“They keep the grounds very nicely, even with the snow and being so close to the road and all,”

“Yep, there’s never a sign of debris, nowhere”

Words. 

That’s all that remains. 

Words and memories of words and the way we attempt recreating images from those words. 

Some are distilled to paint the lines. 

Some distort the lanes of time. 

Others…

Are just words,

In a void,

Colorless and disturbed

Sometimes I wonder as you wait:

Do you feel lonesome?

Does the emptiness within consume you?

If it does I am dearly sorry

But rest assured-

It won’t be that way for ever-

And then…you’ll have me for eternity

Streets of Dawn

I love the emptiness found on the streets of dawn

I love the solidarity of sound in mind

Crisper awakenings, cold and yet to thaw

No stares surrounding

Nothing to overcome or defend position/place

With dew still fresh promise has yet to beget scorn

Scowling pores have yet to swim upon clogging stench

Perspiration of densest precepts confounding

Breaking judgmental genes and its derogatory blight of spine

Alone and wandering

Bread broken with pigeons prior to morning flight

No psychoanalysis only tar’s silence, born from the fault of ash

Ginger swing

Lingered long

Scrumping apples from a poison field

Unearthing wounds scars have long since housed

Roots revealed, of the wounded charms, marinated & resurrect

Marvels fold, as silence grows much too loud

Burdened by echoic dynasties deepened by a quivered cobble

If a monster was made to be,

Shaped by molds buried deep in me

Imagined from a lifetime of composite imagery

Grow it would

Strong and weak

Bold yet meek

Craving but withdrawn

Pummels then crawls

Caffeinated scales trickle through

Each and every part of a piece of you

Isolations emerge through silent reprieve

Far yet finalized stars of fizzled dreams

Rusted rivets atop hinged wings

A procession praised by violating sage

Storked flight, into smolder, out of lie,

Vicarious thoughts of songs never played inside

Calyx aback yet severed strong

Dusty vision through veils floral

Sore thumbs pretend to mend

I hate the emptiness that waits for me, on the lonely streets of dawn

Enchantress

listen to ‘Enchantress’ on Audioboo

Enchantress

How can I tell which parts of you are real?

How will failure feel to me?

In what demeanor will the reflection gleam?

Escape the trellis

Vine to vine

Thorny path

                           Wrist to palm

Bare skin bludgeoned into tiny scars

                                             And then there’s the matter of the ground…

We’ve never got along too well…

Wafers upon the tongue

Black Ideas

During a healing mass

Scarred and frayed

Toothpick child

It must be difficult

Living like an only child

Broken by the perspiration

Spent to covet him

The blood of yours you’ve never met

It was long before you came forth

Yet their love for him

Seems to fill their love for you

With remorse

Ruing

The child saved

Into the forest

With door sealed

Lights away

A beautiful princess you’ll be

Reign upon the land and trees

The creatures, the fleas

With the doting love

The mirror sees

But with neglect

A world of sympathy

Can take the feet only so distant

Before the cricks bend

And the soles benign no more

A temper mental summit calls

From ridges of despair

A transforming tear is spun

Bearing down

Shivering

And so it begins again…

The draft comes hither

         It’s autumn no longer

Winter’s pool grows strong

                  As scarcity depletes refuge from sleep

Returning to the family that damns your seams

The years of unraveling

Have maimed the clay

Burn the halo

Disinherited since the earliest day

Into the forest

With door ajar

Skyline gray

A beautiful Queen you’ve matured to be

Reigning over land in shadow

The creatures all fear your teeth

All life subservient

All dreams delegated to bloodied knee

Disembodied by the penance others serve

You’ve acclimated the way so many predicted your road would preen

…And with the doting hatred

Of the image

That the mirror sees

A Mind Built Through Isolation

A barren workspace I do seek:

There’s an Independence found in Isolation,

Solitude by choice not by placement or creative construct,

I despise those impersonators, and their convenient smocks of white,

Cloning chickens, splicing genes, for the greater good,

Walls are blank

Only if your thoughts are faint

If they grow and are allowed to blossom

Those bare walls will be vivid, bright and pretty awesome

You’ll have images and memories

Reflections and theories

Chasing after one another

All for your innovation

And perhaps somewhat amusing

In how it all unfolds,

Each crevice, every slat of matter

Left brain, right brain,

There is no such thing as a wrong brain

The mind is the most fertile place of all,

A little sunlight and a lot of knowledge

Will move it from that potted soil

And it will outgrow that tiny ledge on the wall

Isolations not a bad thing at all

In Rapt

As the curdling continues,

 I wrench within for

A cup of persistence cloistered in a tumbler of gin,

Finalizing the curt to-dos, nodding, molar holding lip in check,

Do not look disinterested or mince definitions,

Lest the agony may trudge in territory undesired,

An Explanation, Explaining Exclamations

Elaborate rebuttals, endless confrontations,

Quiet, I’ve learned is more than a state

It’s a mean towards an end,

As the decibels soar above the gradient

The blood grows violent, spitting and coughing, gurgling within

Cascades and episodic calls to action, writhing for release,

The stomach falters in tone and velocity, temperament grows blatant

Like an alligator, tugged by the tail, snapping jaw between the thrashes

Then the door does close, quickly bolt fastened where heads could turn,

Boots distance themselves away, eyes watch intent, for dread I was too obvious,

Whether the feet are shuffling, stomping or simply plodding along,

I don’t discern such trite affairs, only that they continue in that direction.

As my eyes observe the departure keenly, something awful I do dread,

For fear of pirouette, to see the axis spin in pretend,

Ignites chilling transistors that the flesh from spine than bone,  

Pity, I pray, have it so, upon this tired, wretched, solitary soul,

Do not recant the vows you’ve made, do not reposit , do only, disengage.