Category Archives: poetry

Web Psyche

Standing in the crushing cold pitch

lightless night in grey soles

isloated

cool air breezes past the unguarded ear

Whispering

thousands of voices indistinct

a thunder haunting with faint meaning

The pressure of a million eyes

unseen peering into ones hidden thoughts

I have to ask

about the soothing subtle nature of being human

something binds us in the ties and chains of the moment

lost in a sea of unknowing

we understand violence

cold fear, hate and rage

Love is nothing more than a sales pitch

We have the power of gods of a lesser sort

Like a child holding a gun on a playground

with more bullets than it can carry

we have armies, jet bombers and war heads

Children

carrying death in our hands

The subtle ties talking darkly

or lightly

do we have to choose

between the piece

and the puzzle

can we not find another option

in the end it doesn’t matter

might still makes right

and on occasion

mutual back scratching may be involved

I hope the atheists are right

that there is no here after

imagine the surprise

when consequences exist for us all

as right and wrong supercede

legal and illegal

I don’t think any one will find it funny

 

Nostalgia

My mind’s wandering wondering eye

Find’s its attention fixed

on dusty archives of life’s long lived lies

Memories’ faded photographs

tales, legends and lore as nothing is ever quite as it seems

countless voices like an over crowded aviary

clutter your thoughts

grandmother, father

grandfather, mother

brothers, sisters, friends and others

viewed through the warped lens of the moment

the foreshadowing of youth’s promised failures

you cannot know then what you know now

you can’t go home

you must make home where you are

find your place in the sun

or the moon

what ever that means

Aether

I walk between worlds

yours, his, hers, theirs

from the wilds to the city

they all belong to some one

or something

Yet I am lost

Home

A shadowy remnant of what was

I have been returned

like a thing without a receipt

broken on the wheel

I have no place but the moment

standing on my own insecurely

But I do have a good view

The whole world to witness

and although I do not belong

I do have a choice

I can get the most out of the ride

Side Eye

We select what we see

with careful unexpected ill intention

shapes our expectation

so everything is as it should be

rather than what it could be

it is those haunted strange occurrences

that cause a backward step

hard heartless hesitation

it seems

in the final accounting

we hold others to a longer stick

then we do ourselves

###

There it is all about us

Thou we exist in the ever now

The past lies behind,

filled with those who once were,

some still here,

and those long forgotten.

Forever unknown

silhouetted in the dark

that still

shapes the floor under our feet

Still standing

unknown, unknowing

in a world long dead

Uncomfortable teeth from which we shuttered our fleet fear

Eyes cast fearful forward

uncertain

self inflicted powerlessness

blinded by our own hand

left unable to shape a world made of clay

softened  by the sun.

A thing a child’s hand may shape

Without concern of the following day

We are prisoners of our own doubts

Our certain facts

Our self restraint

Wagging tongues lacking tact

Causing one to prefer

the critics corner

rather than risk the stage.

 

 

Not Words

We ordered dinner

in Marrakesh

in sign language

The language barrier created simple comfort

In

The illusion of quiet commonality

unlike the world of words

sighs and groans welcome

for there is a great deal in a not word

careful calculations

audio approximations

seeking to understand

what is being said,  could of said, not said

there are always other

words, choices, questions

leaving only

torn tiny torrent of torment

in the final cold cut notion

of being alone

the gulf of not said

loaded not words

impassible

Post Industrial

Welcome to my desolation

post industrial rust pile

cold home

There are others here

shades paler and darker

in the streets

as shackled spirit eyes

with out vision

Once greatness was here

it still whispers

from the dark corners

of any winter’s night

but we walk child like

unknowing

empty gazes haunted

by impossible futures