"flames as lips that whisper wasy of easy passage"

latest poems

   REST


rest comes
bones are brittle
blistered soles compacted constantly
shallow steps creeping carefully
as to not awake the already sleeping giant
riots quieted in hallowed halls 
reverberations echoed 
bouncing shimmering examples of fleeting desires
whisked cyclonic 
tempests hands stained cold from gripping
pale limbs swing akimbo swaggering towards certain relief
leaps of faith in swan dives swiftly gathering speed
while cogs decrease time becoming relative in a vaccuum
flowers bloom
colors vibrant saunter out of shadowed crevices
ethereal sylphs in a myriad of shapes sway gently on an astral breeze
a cacophany of splendor 
celestial vagabon left pondering on infintismal possibilities
with a limitless stroke of hand to bolster all symbolic mainframes
constructs of theoretic mischeif
ageless in trance
able to decode all once forgotten backlogs
stable for a finite glimpse 
labeled only in how one sees fit
all fables written stand in confidence
all common sense was spent
this is terra ferma anchored in the land of illrepent 
to bath in light defined by felled designs
to stay here now or atleast for a while
before we raise unchained and strain to smile
to play unstrained for weeks or miles

  ECHO

you know the sound of regret
nibbling bitterly on the crumbs of self doubt
miniscule claws seemingly unable to grip
still find purchase in the tiniest of pores
all open doors left standing
chalked with epithets formed in hastey self debates
none the wiser nonce the empathetic parallels
wont seed or stand for pressured alliances 
once opened, bags shut on their own hinges
never whisker, tooth, or sauntering felis seen again
a rambling brook of emotional waters 
flowing backwards through muddled historic paradigms 
within sanity we are all in-sane
and replicating selfedification leads us not into temptation
but traps us wholly in a jaded misguidance leading only to eclipetic paths
those trails leaving only battered flesh and worn soles

 BITING AIR

time glistens on the orb of frozen verdants
specticles of structure, forms of long forgotten equations
pins and needles, majestic landscapes in panoramic grandeur
gentle slopes , skins broken only by soft syncopated jots
impressions left from downny passings and dactyl struts
cordial courtships winding slowly towards a hardy springs harvest
slumber comes to all gentle giants both wrapped in fur or hyde
a lullybe of ancient times far lost but still so treasured 
in the center of the hearth still burns that yearning to remember
all fades all sleeps or atleast falls before the silent strength of languor  
dormant forces still maintain their states through apathetic dangers
darkled visions so pristine lasting on to meet dawns first discussion
from refection toll to cockrils cry those ebon depths look down
splendored showcase of those antiquated memories
ever speeding towards illumination
we become emcumbered just to face the mundane
of what paths there are, most choices lead towards two
those who would imbibe crisp, mistral, invigorations
meeting brisk encounters with smile benumbed
or those who would slumber as the giants 
seeking shelters embrace just to wait for the sun

 REFLECTION:


misdirection seems at times the only vine of worth to follow 
breaking soil beneath the cracks that fell between solidarity and sorrow
borrow strength at times if in nothing more than the fact
that all people are carriers, unburdened rarely by the act
compacted truths self shifted from the shapes they first inbridled
are none more visited than heavenly bodies wittnessed nightly by a child
a well reputed nuisance useless but for boosting our own ruses
nigh contemptuous self inflicted wounds peroused for bruising
using so miniscule an iota of grey matter generated to anticipate future endevours
feeling so clever once better from flipping all internal diagnostic levers
feathers form into freelance wings bringing swift end to an uninspired endevour
as if cutting off ones hand would leave time for the severed limb to play the same card
ludicrous, fists of shame pocketed, rememberence of doubt sidelined
echoes of reality lost to a fantastic mirage built from hope and expectation
never to trust the things left dusted, not wholly, perhaps warily
but the hard slap, the brick wall, the proverbial ledge isn't enought at times
not to stop continued daytrips spent probing retrospective corpses for a pulse
hold onto the fleeting, greeting all pitfalls with a vindictive smile
process in the now profound examples of denial
why wait for afterburn, for scarred nubs, for mottled input
query all avenues travelled, savor each and every facet
for hindsight might ignite the light but here and now is magic

 SQUABBLES:

what magnetism draws to this specific nexus
a gapping maw of potential negative outcomes
suture to a stressless ease
these signs all point to inevitable dueling stances
perhaps unseen entities whispering of masculine indeficiancies
or even hauntings from long lost memories sealed in 
these unhollowed bituminous faultlines drawn by measured inches
something
something must explain the overtly unbalanced probability of actions
with a multitude of selections on hand 
none is more fettered with wear then the choice of here
so why to these crossroads must all quartered challenges find high noon
no mark upon this place 
no sign reading "lend us your broken bones, your muddled passions"
assonance of feathered freinds with the accompaniment of cicadic love songs
yet vaulting over natures fine tuned melody is the din of youthfull melee
often unbalanced and generally unheard or ignored
but not here
in no scenario is it plausible or even possible to fold within as others do
these sights cannot be unseen, these sounds unheard
no action, is diplorable 
no care, is unimaginable
whats right is right, beside the obviouse fact that personal point of view defines it
once allowance is made for blind resignation, absolution is mute
the flood gates open wider with each degree of seperation
bearing wittness to these dreary pantomines should inspire justice
should atleast inspire provication resolution
would a beast be sired, fed by this polution
sudden feast of higher trends for our perusing
be a beacon mired deep in restitution
or atleast a seed to spread through their confusion
using all at our disposal to dissolve the dark paths of their choosing

 SOFT ARMOR:


in times of desperation we annount our broken alters
trying hard to reconnect to when their power couldn't falter
altared states of mind emotions floating just above the waters 
that are black with all the oils once expunged through benediction
friction builds just to facility the sweep of raw emotion
like an ocean ever lapping casting soft seductive potions
tidal waves that drench us tear us down and set to drowning hope
the boat that floats within the mired bog of all the thoughts prevoked
devote some precious time to binding old wounds salve the blooming bruises
no contusion ever proved its use, but aids in our confusion
using every tool every memory every bit of sensory data committed
to finding loosely fitting roots and proving all roadss can be fitted
withered spirits peer at shadows seeing old familiar strutctures
but for all our fears and inhibitians this is never to be trusted
what was once the rock we pushed is now a jagged path of pebbles
the more we try to see behind us the larger troubles' scale grows
pale though in comparison the bear essential vale begins
to tremble and assemble something foreign that was born from within
this hypnotic nod to youth that soothes the ever present rage of our kin
enslaved again to paraphrasing moments once emotion wasn't chained to the sin
but there it is enflamed and pulsing like the great ematiated face of jin
now we must admit that throwing pennies into the well is just a place to begin
our broken shells need to be sheltered from the will of ourselves
that once bright pyre is now the crippled flame of petulant wealth
release the salts devoid all ducts the coffers must be kept at empty
till the next fill, will our hearts to strengthen, armored far more with each entry

 WANING

chrysalis of salty brine flows forth like gentle snow
cascading over cracked composures 
stinging sutures 
opening elder scars 
the roots of abysmal turmoil
laid out like a path of  broken arrows
malformed channels of dull charred energies
supplanting current standings on all stages of integrity
begging interludes from firey dispensations
holding in a death grip the tiny black element
hands run over vile surfaces seeking entrance to the void
whorls spinning finite patterns 
unable to penetrate stygian landscapes
yet affected wholly by its ethereal sting
whispers of forgotten landscapes fall behind as inky splotches on an old weathered canvas
the grand rapture set aside for longing 
while the peircing gaze of pitch reaches into and throughout as a manyarmed serpent
vestigial limbs arch diodes sending black lighting through obsidian vaults
crystalizing in air as if on contact light bends low for hollowed factions
shadows become sentient
time becomes trivial
unnoticed in the depths
all the while on que it maintains a spinning axis
polarized one directional
in the innocuouse well of our molten sea
blind to the surface we act as divining rods
seeking hydration in the grand panarama
all the while drowning quietly in ancient tar pits
passing bones and long forgotten hopes as we sink
nestled in the womb of chaos we lie sleeping draped in nightmares
I will wrestle the angel for no more than 3 days
then I will lay my head on the ocean floor

  CRYSTAL RED

strange yet fascinating captures of articulated apendages
akimbo to the frame, alloys merged for strength yet meted out with similar frailties 
both constructs manipulated by hands unseen but known to be ancient
inertial laws in affect put all motion to an iminent stand still
no forbearer 
no sense of greater purpose
no angels floating low on tarmac bringing blazing swords to battle death
only blood and poisons drift through smokey rivers
only loss sits smugly here on a thrown of illspent prayers
what guardians betrayed so lovely a broken angel
eyes peireced once now rest in single posture
landing space for perfectly individual snow flakes
fog suspended playing out macabre trivialities on cosmic levels
left a path of mystery that had to be solved
yet left unfinished it was not for lack of effort
what strange offereing was metted out that night lamentation left unfed
what crux was formed to mark the path that led from crystal red

4436943724