withering skin tucks itself in towards emptiness soul slowly trickling out as the wisdom bubbles up then fades away
smiles of a life well lived or frustrated isolation panic, as time rapidly collapses it all washes away a bathtub of soul seeming to slowly, peacefully deplete a gentle draining of the spirit when the level is low a sudden swallow -- and it's gone
onward, down the river flowing towards the ocean sea of spiritual consciousness an infinite well of divine wisdom they gather force, these souls ushering as one towards unity slowly combining.. the self dissolves a life lived in comparable static realized time, place, and thought now flow really flow not like the subtle currents of the pool
freed from their mortal roots ethereal hands reaching for the sun they break from the hard earth and drift inside the ethereal static senses are expanded out and out shattering the dependency on touch sight, taste, smell, sound they become beings of pure feeling engaging the universe in a new way freed, not by the addition of tools but by the lack of them those crutches that we hobbled on handicapped in our fleshy shells
may they find their way unto the sea a new means of existence freed from all that bound us limitless in capacity ever understanding the endless expanding through everything in which the rest of us remain engaged upon a speck
we remain a mere organ as they become the body
------------------------------- ~ I dedicate this to all souls that have passed out of this world. May they safely be delivered to their new home.
car engines groan under the strain breaking their settled state as the grease slip-sides unwilling parts
birds would be chirping sick on free radicals they sleep in lazily no songs, sterile morning
heavy feet find the next step each asserts their prescense loud, "thump thump thump"s rudely woken by custom
you didn't sleep with Crawford Mr. Jones.. and Ms. Collins, well, you didn't really win the lottery grumble about your broken dreams as you spend office efficiency trying to mend them
groaning and moaning the day drags a higher number to the calendar, begrudginly but the joy has been stolen from this sterile morning
discarded papers on the desk receipts, jotted notes, and memoranda flammable slips of importance and genuis scribbled in moments of intensity but their brilliance fades and the genius wilts suffocated in a pile of loose, heavy pulp
I look at these papers and see thoughts of me littered on the desk of your mind their value depreciated as they gather undisturbed atrophic memories fading in obscurity into letters and ground wood
crashing discord millions of oppositions striving for one thing unity through explosion through separations every fraction flung into heavenly bodies until the heat fades leaving them to settle, drift down
Gemini decades before spewing the fog of being born into darkness he was presented to Cancer's celestial enemy as a rose-wrapped shell of that which she lacked nothing. the truth was then more apparent: darkness was born into him
he was so human and naked pink but lacking the trappings that humanity entailed and he burned the crabgrass traces held on his borders in order to create a self that was pure void a fertile womb of emptiness in which a truly unique seed could take its root like fire is mother to jungle diversity was obtained through destruction
his soul was a concrete anatomy of construction entwined with the delicate vines of ivy chaos, mother nature's fortuitous daughter left her reflection all around his heart so that Libra would not erase the city
between the cold structured steel and the warm oak branches a hollowness still remained at the center of all creation inside these ivory walls lay a cascading utopia but its isolation insisted that it had no meaning a word in itself has no significance if spoken alone and even a paradise meant nothing were it not shared
this lonely perfection was only a stutter static, static, static so it reached out and grabbed itself by the tail and it became a circle given upon itself feeding on his own divine sacrifices purpose was given by purpose taken from purpose
set adrift by its contention to feed upon its own beautiful wounds it collided against another such wandering star both so sure that they were adrift in frozen space alone that neither had ever bothered to open their eyes suddenly two became one at the joint of supernova
their sudden blemishes made them perfect ivy bound with mistletoe silver fused with saphire ocean dissolved into skyline and night swallowed day bled into night again
the jealous sun could not stand to see two stars so bright that fed only of each other's light so she swallowed up their brightness and fed upon it like a starving vulture she swallowed them both under two dark seas and tucked their hearts under the sand iron shackles chained them to the clay as they were left to sleep away their memories
one must never discount the power harnessed by a fulfilled abyss returned to its miserable birth a nothing which was always nothing is simply hollowness but a void descended from above is a stretched nothing that craves to have its receding emptiness filled before it collapses into and upon itself
his teeth sunk into his manacles the acidic taste of vengance eating at it with easy determination the ocean of suffocation fell into his aching jaw and filled his churning pit of a heart he ravaged the earth with his gulping tounge and swallowed the sky, the stars, and finally the sun filling himself with the cause of his hunger
his pure heart was petrified from anger and shattered from his shame littering the dust of it upon gardens that grew exquisite flowers from his ugliness everything that he was disolved like nourishing salt into this world which he had tried to live without
midnight shrugged him off her shoulders like so much of winter's crusted snow he was her ice, her cold forbidden place, where the frozen binds could not be undone without a steely embrace of bitter pain
his thoughts tasted like deadly hemlock his poems were the fluid in which he laced them to disguise their pungent flavor and dull the brutality of his aggression the truth of the endeavor blurred, in the stirring of the drink
the consciousness he knew, fell to its knees and pleaded for redemption on the shores of void but the ocean was no more interested in saving this innocent seed from his bitter husk than it was in speaking
some thought he was the ocean current but midnight knew him better as the undertow
I closed my eyes and succumbed to the darkness the thunder of being hit with tidals of blindness split my eardrums and bored a hole into my stability my lungs were crushed for not being able to escape the water
I opened my eyes and found only a world of monochrome my dreaming must have loaded the wrong film empty people stepped on in a static world and I was paused, but the television played white spray on and on the channels must not be aligned
I closed my eyes and ran away from distance I could not bear to not recognize my new home there are no strangers in empty worlds and no man recharges at the end of the day with wide eyes only by the darkness could there be new beginnings only by the darkness could the tides clear the beaches only by darkness do eyes get their rest
I act like your slamming shut doesn't hurt me maybe you'll just open petals when its dark out I act calm and collected, a windless lake of a man maybe if I do, this bleeding will come to an end
I keep my mouth shut and stop talking about the past maybe I want a medicine to cure my own disease I keep on dragging my heavy legs over rain-spattered pavement maybe it was never the snow's fault that I have cold feet
I speak in riddles and rhymes that I never say aloud maybe I don't do it because I don't want to talk about it I speak on through silence and over the tops of deaf ears maybe I need to say things that don't need to be heard
I wait for cracks in the stonework before smashing the walls maybe I'd rather that you just open the door I wait for unnoticed words to give direction to my current maybe my paths have six dimensional directions
you could just want to create something better than history
wet drops of glittering sunlight saw every day that the bee woke to participate in his flighted dance from their perches on lazy leaves
the bee flew in thanks for sunlight flew in praise of the sweet water flew for the company of the wind, his favorite dancing partner
but he flew mostly for the flower
her petals exposed under the sunlight unfolded blankets of pure velvet pink traced with veins of snowy white and the scent of raw seduction
they saw his eyes swell with the sunlight when exposed to the joy of his day the entire reason that he ever wakes and he always dances deep with life
but he flew mostly for the flower
he loved her image in the sunlight every curve highlighted by shadow and vibrant colors reflected lucidly into the receptive orbs of his eyes
not rain, not meadows, not even sunlight could reflect her image to him though he thought them all beautiful still and he praised them all in song and dance
but he flew mostly for the flower
then one day he was lazy in sunlight wrapped in a blissful blanket of lethargy he warmed his soul and took vacation to watch instead of fly
he saw the flower opened in sunlight and was sunk by the lead bearing of truth the flower never unfurled for his prescence, instead always because of the sunlight
clouds drench the wall in shadow and the ceiling is dripping with silence and ocean of blood tries to pound an escape route through the worn and tattered walls of your listening ears
nothing ever pierces the silence save the wailing shrieks of insane walls everything so quiet, like it is all watching you you feel the pressure of all the thousands of probing eyes that you only imagined
but the truth is the retreating sun is no more afraid of your tears, than does it want to erase them
bags of groceries lying on the tile, they should be in the fridge clothes strewn across the carpet in chaos and an empty microwave popcorn bag adorning the desk in harmony with a plastic cup drained of liquid sustenance
dreams scattered over the windowsill like rose petals the flavor of their lovemaking washed into the bedsheets he can smell it while he dreams of her
a lonely light on in an empty sky falls over a void of thoughts fingers poised over keys hungry for words that taste like her words like 'vibration', 'infinite', 'eggshell', and 'flowing' idle needles sit in his mind, destined to sew a new blanket a blanket rich with her colors, to keep her heart close to his in all shades of nighttime
her eyes never close though her limbs may fall asleep reflecting an even brighter hue when the moon falls on them she is never silent, yet rarely do words escape her lips only strangers still pay much attention to her droning tone she knows more than four hundred times a thousand people though few of them recognize each other in her house
she swallows up everything in her dominating prescence and her stomach is abated only by a craving for more hunger her dark tresses fall down long and trail on to infinity slowly dissolving into the abyssal black of the night sky she never moves from her appointed position of her cold throne her doors taking in her subjects at all hours of the passing day
she bends all until the will of her arm and demands compliance but she offers a vast trove of possibility to those who heed her she is never known but through sight, sound, and endless movement since it is not her style to present her secrets to those still untried her vigilant mind is a whirlwind of activity, and she never finds sleep but it is in her arms that so many claim their place to settle in and rest
tidalcrush