Look beyond the matted hide
silent & still
slippery & warm
it lays gone.
The bones gleam
Pristine white.
There is no more fight.
But what remains?
A luxuriously soft weight
see how its essence still
pulsates…
Tag Archives: being
edge of bizzarity
something strange
resides
along the edge of bizzarity
convoluted yet logical
benign yet edged with extreme
fatal lest it feels like less
at the periphery of our vision
at the horizon of our senses
what our being can only hazard to guess
ender
an ender should not dread the end
reaper of all, you sowed once too
a guide for the died
what fear is there
for the destined real?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
you will be summoned
you will appear
be drawn to my wavering soul
suspended above my shallow shell
and dear death
once ago
and once again
become
enfleshed
voiced
i hear your voice
that off key humming
that soft yet deep toned
murmuring
that distinct chuckle
that sweet nothing filled echo
i strain to hear you
to make it real
to place it in my time
but just as always
you go silent
sensing you have
come too near
what keeps you away?
you know i await
that fated chance
not promised
no, not at all
but dreamt of
and longed for
but thought of
and prayed for
and kept
within my
wounded self
to give the
emptiness
some company
find me
i must find myself..
within the very mazes,
of your past tense.
whatever was remembered ago.
i must find myself…
where i did exist
where i wondered and whispered:
think of me.
i am no stranger.
i knew you.
is that not enough
to find where i never was
until now.
pulsate
look beyond the hide
silent & still
slippery & warm
it lays gone
the bones glow pristine white
there is no more fight
a luxuriously soft weight
see how it still
pulsates
i know.
i know that look!
i know every word that is unspoken,
that lies within that look.
[why do so many share the same?]
that little jump, that little crinkled brow,
the little voice that inside echoes: ‘why are you this way?’
i know those words!
i see every word before it is spoken,
it lies within your mind
and spills forth from confidence assured,
[why do so many share the same?]
that little quirky smile, that little tingling fear,
the casual-sounding voice stammers: “you’re not like the others”
i know that very thought!
i hear it before it is even formed,
it lies within your questioning soul
and struggles to come forth,
[why do so many share the same?]
that little contemplation, that little preoccupation,
the little wonder that catches you by surprise: “why do you not belong?”
yes but none ever voice nor think nor see…
that i cannot help,
but be me.
Lunacy’s call
Wrote this one, after falling asleep with my blinds open, and waking in unmistakable fear with the moon shining full on my face. Was that the cause really? The confused mass of images, an overall sense of suffocation and dread, the pervasive white sheen to the images seen seemed pretty convincing then. My creative concern remains about rhyming structure not stunting a poem’s flow.
From my bedroom window pane
spied I something that
kept me from sleeping sane:
waxed and waned before my eyes
silver dollar gleaming in the sky
sparkled strangely twice than thrice
slanted grain of bitter rice
would lunacy’s luridness entice?
milky blinded wandering eye
with pallid brightness slowly did it cry
shimmering sickle, heavy eyes did pry
sobered dreams calmly defied
relentless rhyme upon my pen
sightless goddess do not seek me again
following with her unblinking gaze
tempting weakened minds with searing craze
do not stalk with me with your lantern white
I plead of slumber hold me tight
twinkle twinkle fickle moon
let me be Madame La Lune.