Doors Closing

Said plainly, it is fruitless when I share.
Work goes in and yet there is no response.
It lives in a void to die a slow death
Because it is hard to see a soul bare.


No one wants to actually read now.
Too few can handle the ugliness there
That is laying between a few letters.


Time for an ‘Elevator Pitch’ affair
I have to be quick to trick or ensconce
The attention need to give life’s breath.
Now it is all electronic warfare.

Fair Play

I used to think that it mattered to me,
The thoughts, the smells, the tastes, the life of it.
Memories seem to haunt me from it all.
It is all nothing but grey ash, beastly.


It was never as I had intended.
I was supposed to be a success, see.
Failure was not to be my sole branding.


Here, where I exist, there’s no future sea.
Ahead, there is only this bag of shit
That intends to cover me when I fall.
Now, there are only the things I carry.

A Hollow Shell

Broken and tossed against the hardened shoals
Life’s dreams take on a new meaning of pain.
We battered, discarded, and forgotten
Still try to give of ourselves and our souls.


It isn’t enough to be a good man.
There is often no reward for these goals
Because we should be glad to do the work.


So we move along as the wind controls
Or waves with sea shells as we smile and feign
Happiness so we will not seem rotten
While we beg to gather alms in our bowls.

Heavenly Scent

Crisp and clean, the winter wind carries it.
I was told that the snow aloft is kin
To the scent of what heaven would smell like.
In the infinite of it all, it knit.


And then there was verisimilitude.
I knew there was no other truth to it.
The faith the belief that absolute trust.


I could not deny the passion befit
Of a revelation that was given
To the likes of me from one so dreamlike.
Winter’s Scent – and I am still so unfit.

Castaway

There is a place we all go when confused.
Often, a place between darkness and light
Where we are stuck at a crossroads of sorts
Leaving choices where our soul could be bruised.


We want to do the right thing the right way,
The path though, can lead to demons bemused
By the way we use our morality.


Our circumstances dictate actions used
Decisions are never so black and white.
Judgment from those who you thought were cohorts
Are crushing as you alone, stand accused.

Conflagrant Ferocity

Within me, anger. No wisdom. No sage.
I am power incarnate. Calm be damned!
Action is my answer to the calling
Of my fate. Shifting movement. Fueled rampage.


Streaming crimson fetishes trail behind.
Battle will come and I shan’t disengage.
With my enemy, there is no mercy.


Blood on my hands as I launch from my stage.
My fists burning, powerful light is slammed
Against them all. My enemies falling.
Behold the power of Red Lantern’s rage!

Throughlines

A trend line flowing through my scattered dreams
Can only be understood by shamen
Casting into the long-ago-way-back
When the Gods walked, giving life to the streams.


I hear them move, the ancestral people
Who walked the lines, danced, sang, and healed the seams
Between reality and the Dreamtime.


Visions drawn from impossible extremes
Flood through my mind as I’m thrown back to then
To follow these brothers on their sidetrack.
Armed now, I know these are no mere daydreams.

Truly, Madly, Deeply

There are stories told now, undoubtedly,
How the rain could be toxic and poisoned,
How the land is rife with violent men,
How our heroes are false, undoubtedly.


We are allowed a brief glimpse through a glass
That reflects what is known, undoubtedly,
So that we can consider ourselves smart.


The puppet show is on, undoubtedly,
So we can be mindful little boys and
Girls playing peacefully in our playpen
Compliant in our life, undoubtedly.

The Trappings of a Dangerous Habit

Grey misty mornings and hot drinks together
Make for a mindset that can oft be thought
As mindful in meditation and spark
As we become awake without tether.


It is more than zazen or wu wei here,
There are hidden meanings that rise whether
Or not we are ready to accept them.


Visions may come, making a bellwether
As dangerous as any vile creature fought
As pathways collide in a reflex arc
Proving once again, we move aweather.

Life's Work

Shouldn’t there be more to life than waiting?
Alone, naked, begging to live rather
Than having the freedom to discover
Our worthiness instead of self-hating?


Head down in the dark hoping for the light.
Empty sustenance ready for plating.
We have learned to serve ourselves dire poison.


Stuck with oligarchic minds dictating
Our pathways, we lose the will to gather
Up resources so we can recover
Our happiness instead of placating.

Ashen Shades

Sterling in character but still broken.
Can one still defeat shade inside oneself
If the carcass underneath is rotting
Beneath the brightly lit hooded token?


Rip away the façade and you will see
The epitome of death unspoken
Trying to reach beyond given power.


I look in the glass and see a bloke in
Skin trying to climb up an icy shelf
And see the spirit in me that’s plotting
To run rampant under masks quite oaken.

Patience of Amaranth

Slow stretching in branches tell me of love

Unknown to many in these times with men.

They do not wish to understand the leaves

And how they shiver with the Mourning Dove.

Speaking in Wind-tongue, a simple echo

That is carried too far to fall short of

Reaching another who listens closely.

Hardened skin made to last for long years of

Living protects thoughts allowing time when

Trees and men can live together in eves

Of peace as they both grow as hand in glove.

Pointed Irrationality

Shadowy movements within bonds of black
Crawling about in the unseen binding
In the hands of a clock ticking loudly
As the silence overwhelms us, “Click-clack.”


Often in the shuffle of a cat’s paw
Trying to play dead but it goes, “Click-clack”
Rounding the corner with bright eyes and steel.


The taps of shoes on concrete sound, “Click-clack.”
A man in shade walks wickedly, smiling
In memory of doors and a passkey.
A dream-state meaning nothing in playback.

Saporous Tantalization

Collected and wound tightly, the sachet
Gets dropped in wicked anticipation.
Roiling, boiling, and captured in a pot,
Time goes slowly, Flavor's Mindful Ballet.


Eyes shut in imagination, a whiff
Of spice makes mouths water, slight overlay To the natural perfume steaming up.


Useful, not something on would catch astray
From a random handy conjuration,
For it is skill and wisdom that is taught
What we take from aquifoliaceae.

Profundities, Possibly?

Some folks tend to think my words ring out as
Profound. Others tend to know that I’m reaching.
It doesn’t matter really what I think
Just so long as they move in their own jazz.


Each word has a feeling, a movement quite
Unlike their brothers. Each one, a pizzazz
Of their own that brings on a new flavor.


Sounds bringing a harmony as good as
Joyful singing or quiet sobering.
Shifting, slinging, moving us to the brink
Of understanding where none before has.

#0000FF

Why is sadness always considered blue?
Why not purple? What of grey? Violet?
Isn’t there a better emotion to link?
Can it be that we are stuck in this hue?


Heart-struck and depressed seems not to be a
Shade of cerulean. Another is due
To color these deep places of being.


Ocean depths are blue as is the sky too.
Yet these do not inspire a sad islet
Where I have to hid my feelings and blink
Back emotions to maintain a face true.

On Samhain

And in the days to come, as nights follow’d,
We think of the ghouls, goblins, and devils.
Of tricks and treats and evenings hallow’d,
Musty tombs, dungeons, and underground levels.


Remember a time when magick alive
Shifted minds to believe in wonderment?
Think back to then and find the will to thrive
In the darkness, lost in bewilderment.


Does your flesh crawl with goose-bumps or raised hair?
Did the shadowy depths cause a dear fright,
Glowing eyes akin to the devil’s glare
Watched you and shined brightly against the night?


Tell me true, is it as it once was then?
Does the dark make you run and scream, “Amen!”

Occulta Superficialis

What is it that you seem to hold so dear?

That dirty little secret that pushes

Up against you in your dark times letting

A Machiavellian head to appear?

What machinations do you have employed

To shift the blame and cause confusion here?

Do you feel the burning eye watching you?

Are you proud of what you allowed to rear

Up and create queer and strange ambushes?

Are you hot now that you’re heavy petting

With a demon that now controls your sphere?

Effervescence

It was a sensation unlike stasis
Energy whipped around, enervating
The lethargy that held me so tightly
Causing me to move in its kinesis.


The microbes spinning up on their axis
Moved in a power that seemed to dismiss
Lingering shreds of darkness that once held.


This feeling that would not dare to miss
Brought me to a place where lights pulsating
And abating fear made me brave, knightly
Even as I flew out for one lasts kiss.

To Have Feline Strength

Sometimes I’m asked, “How do you do it all?”
It’s nothing miraculous in the least,
I keep moving and try to keep spinning
Plates the best I can while they seem to fall.


I do fail, too often, when I need to
Not as I find myself curled in a ball
Waiting for the next thing to bruise my soul.


Thoughts come though, sitting up against a wall,
“I’ve learned something here. I’m not such a beast.”
It’s a remarkable underpinning
That allows me to stand and bugger all.