Whisker's length is all,
I fear, from devastating wrath and coals.
Mere moments, yet, between this
Field and hearth of flaming fuel that
Drives, in fury. Drives in thunder,
Drives to madness, empties, pulses,
Rapes and leaves a carcass: bleeding
Mind that twitched and turned a
Waking eye aside for feather's weight in
Maat, that path not far away.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Because We Do
This is why we
Pile life thusly. This
Is why my coffer's bare.
And this is why I taste
Of bitter herb and correlate
To daily bread a dab of fear.
This, dear heart, is why I cater
To each pall and whim and
Wail, to bring you farther,
If I could, from where you see
That I have failed.
Pile life thusly. This
Is why my coffer's bare.
And this is why I taste
Of bitter herb and correlate
To daily bread a dab of fear.
This, dear heart, is why I cater
To each pall and whim and
Wail, to bring you farther,
If I could, from where you see
That I have failed.
Encircle
There was a wall
And brick by brick and
Mortar round, that
Wall thieved thought and
Will engulf until it
Crushes every ounce of
Otherwise assent
Into an atomy, a thread,
A whisper of what
Used to be, and after
All accomplished, all
Surrounded, builder sees
In basic lay, that first encounter
Ever such a tiny flaw - that
Spark, now muffled from her breeze
Can't burn, can't hold this
Wall, this work of art becomes
Such burden, bound to crumble,
Meant for greatness, cold, enacted,
Great thereof, the fall.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Gentle Hypocrite, this Heart
You could not be so different
From he and he and he before;
Protestations, proclamations, all
Alike, but more adventurous
This time around seems, daring, safe, and
Righter than my eye for aye. A posh,
A down-to-earth extreme I glow
And go to sit with you and mourn
The wage demanded of each day, the
Call of Sirens, "Come and rest, yon weary sailor!
Bring your aching bones ashore!" A cry,
A call, to end all being self
And nothing more.
From he and he and he before;
Protestations, proclamations, all
Alike, but more adventurous
This time around seems, daring, safe, and
Righter than my eye for aye. A posh,
A down-to-earth extreme I glow
And go to sit with you and mourn
The wage demanded of each day, the
Call of Sirens, "Come and rest, yon weary sailor!
Bring your aching bones ashore!" A cry,
A call, to end all being self
And nothing more.
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