My minds eye sits at the back of a darkened cave.
Cramp quarters and blackness hold both prison and palaver,
whispering nonessential nothings with pure intent.
To a dull and echoing drip drip drip of unknown liquid
that gleams and glistens with the brilliance
of blinded stone.
The lost lights flickered low in the arid evening.
Acidic scents of overly perfumed bosoms held bare in judgment.
Who is this moon that reveals my imperfections?
Who am I to question the wisdom of the wise men?
Flickering down to a candles breath the dim world blurs.
As we are all but in a cave wishing shadows on the wall.
Don’t undermine the thoughtful
Don’t dissipate their souls
Don’t further ruination
Tight noosed upon the boughs
Don’t push them towards and ending
Don’t let beginnings stutter
Don’t Worry them with wisdoms
Tight noosed in breezes flutter
Don’t toss them to the fires
Don’t hail them with cheers
Don’t turn an eye in blinding
Tight noosed, full swinging fears
Don’t let them have a moment
Don’t have them save the world
Don’t fill their minds with dreams
Tight noosed they’re fast unfurled
Don’t stop them now from speaking
Don’t fasten tight hard chains
Don’t falter them in missions
Tight noosed, our voices lamed
floating moments of unseen clarity
in which my mind falls shallow
deems unworthy the thoughts I’ve lived for
embracing rather those for which I died
In negative spaces the truest form of existence lies.
All things that are
eventually are not.
All things that begin
inevitably must end.
In this, leaving only absence and emptiness
on a universal scale.
This vastness however lonely,
from a particularly human experience
is in and of itself
and awe inspiring
in the same moment
realizing that one is nothing
but holds within that nothingness potential
it’s potential that those negative spaces contain
and a blaring flash of existance occurs from that.
All the stars and worlds and dimensions
that are or ever will be
are blasted into an unyielding form
that holds strong upon each fleeting second
with talons sharp at first
to the withered, weakened claws
grasping for its place in time
the cycle repeats
but the constant is the lack
and the potential
that which all humankind and its works fall under
we are from nothing
yet within us
everything is possible
Thanks to Culture Push for the photograph.
lost I am in vast pools of emerald steel
that glistens, blisters with petals of intensity
blazing through the night skies essence
lost I am within the comprehending darkness
of centers center
where all is found and all forgiven
where salty oceans ebb and flow in short years
and beam in long
lost am I
lost am I
Thanks to Advanced Photoshop for the photograph.
you can’t outrun your past
it hangs in the corners
until sharp winds huddle you
old dusts tremble free
revealing shadows that never left
raising voices not heard for centuries
with words preferred forgotten
its like trying to escape the long greying lines
of splintery time
by standing still