what the hell

8 06 2013

Carried away,  they are, on that wisp, of human emotion.
Guilt, Want, Desire, Need,
Love. Hate, Despite, Greed.
The things a vessel bears, may weigh heavily, on it’s eternity,
or be as light as a god particle feather, on it’s eternity,
as it plods it’s way to the vast ending of it’s well known final port…
That is not for them to K(No)w.
No mortal eye sees truly into that glass of finality.
Hence, the blur of that humanity, leaves sepia toned edges.

Distorted,

is,

that brief moment of true thought portrayed in the picture of it’s truth.
Short was that moment in time.

A Cosmic light… switched on.

Then, just as quickly, it buzzes and dies,

and you K(no)w

(not this time)

you have to change it.

That kind of moment, to put it in human terms, and conceptions of time…

and eternity.

Lost are we, indeed, on the paths of men.
A last, sordid detail, in a soon forgone conclusion,
of that god particle sized blink that we are,

that spans generations.

(In our god particle sized moment of human thought.)

“A pity…
That.”
Said no one at all, for they were gone.
Gone,

lost in a sea of themselves, swimming carelessly neath the bristles,
of the timeless brush…

Self…

…and it’s endless pursuit…

of what they thought was happiness…
although it was actually just telling them,

… what they wanted to hear.
Touching it’s harshness, barely wincing, while basking in the fleshy touch of it’s

promise,

which felt good.

Living, seemingly.… slowly…

the demise of their purpose unknown,

unheeded.

Truth lies not here. , … so far.
But there is a razor thin line inscribed by the finest god particle tool,
that separates us from it.

If not…

what the hell.

Why make it seem worse then it may already be.

That, also, is not for them to K(No)w…

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Impervious

10 01 2013

 

 

 

Softly the muse calls

from the dimly lit corner of the room,

alone.
Again,

the raven, hermes incarnate,  brings together
multiplying fragments of wonder,
though they dash from the darkness as if troubled.
Light coalesces, invades, becomes, melds

together.

The journey begins as it has before.
Soft footfalls begging forgiveness
of the treads where she has walked…

Still,

lies the body of one who has left the realms
of known and entered another.
Paths interwoven, promises whispered,

oaths shattered,

on the nights gossamer threads,

he rides,

the dark moon aloft,
awaiting another passenger of fate,
clasping hands with

The ferryman.

He waits this side of the river,
obol disks clinging to cold thin lips,
as though the bough is lost…
though with it,

they return
whole.

Impervious.





The raven laughs

1 01 2013

 

Outside the raven sings his song – the earth joins in and sings along.
A small bird thumps against the pane, I hope its neck is only sprained.
The things we’ve built upon this earth, to them this is their only worth…
The raven seeks the things we waste, the others family flees in haste.

A million answers on the air, a million questions seeking there.
Will any bring the truth for all?

The raven laughs!

Pretentious caw…

He says the truth is what he gives, he seeks it not – he simply lives.
He does not think like you and I, he simply lives – and then he dies.

The snowbird flies as summer wanes, his autumn skies bereft of grains,
that toiled on the prairies breeze, or broiled on the foamy seas.
They took the bounty that was there – through fire, water, earth and air,
and when it all began to change, they took to wing and flew down range.

The raven – he will stay right here – he knows the cold, and does not fear,
the icy chill of winters hand, that soon will be upon the land.
He knows the dumpsters will be filled, as will his belly – if its willed…
He knows these birds will leave behind, fallen brothers, he will find.

To them there is no wrong or right, there is no grief for others plight.
A solemn feeding, on the things, that once were treasured, once had wings…
The snowbird feeds then passes by, such wondrous frenzy in the sky.
They simply feed upon the things, the season brought – and always brings.

Awash in all the gifts of man – the need to think, the need to plan,
I see the lessons of the birds, the truth of all the dwindling herds,
their numbers so much larger when, our thoughts had not yet gone to pen.
Now carved in stone, our place will be, the victor writes the history…





Ever Breeze

12 12 2012

 

 

 

The faces of the earth are seen, in forests deep and ever green.
The cosmic dust of man gone past – make fertile ground – their only task…
Mother Earth takes in the waste, of cycles born with bitter taste.
While she remains the sacred ground – here what we throw, may still be found…

Waves of wind caress my soul, and make me feel so fresh and whole.
The gentle current and the flow – melding green and indigo.
A towering standard, to the sky, that’s seldom seen by mortal eyes.
The velvet summer breeze that blows, can call for me, and I will go…

Wafting on the ever breeze, gently kissing all her trees,
bending…swaying, with the touch, painted by her velvet brush.
Skimming tree tops with the feel, of winds that blow and turn the wheel.
The bell tolls loudly on the wind, bereft of law… bereft of sin.

Ever blows the ancient song, of ages lasting ever on…
Of days gone past – that still belie – the questions asked, the reasons why…
She puts no mortal thoughts to them, she simply paints, again…again
Her paintings are the things she is, her violent wrath, her gentle bliss…

Onward goes the silent knight, his magic being lack of fright.
He seldom prays…but often dreams, of velvet skies and greenling fields.
Where man is not so high above, the things she is – the things she loves,
where mortal man was meant to fly, to violet castles, in her skies….

Ever onward goes the path,  embracing love, accepting wrath…
Ever onward trudge the souls, of those who feel – of those who know…
Within the wind, the blades of grass, the teeming shores, on which we bask,
Sounds the ever wondrous call, heard by few… but felt by all.








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