(The video is also incredible)
A silver strand
A single truth
Sharp as glass
Hard as tooth. yellow
the sun
Yet here it is in flowing
dancing in
the
summer
air
pecking
grassy
hair
of
trampled
glades.
Setting fire
to a bear
Sending all of life
to Hades
Reckless
Warpath
smoke and
the dark alone.
in a stand
Yet ebbing glint to
of meant
some never
thing whole
sharp of
a piece
I stay sitting because I remember who we used to be.
I don't stand up because I know who you are now.
But if you keep pushing I will slowly
tip
off
.
.
the
.
.
.
.
edge.
image: netzanette
–
Respectful sounds heard ringing aloud above the ground.
Skeleton Sam waited till the sun had set.
Pushing up the lid the thought struck sound.
Skeleton Sam, a respectable fellow couldn’t believe he was dead.
The moonlight beamed through willow trees and lofty lichen.
Walking down the hill the sound of windy teeth.
Skeleton Sam denied the turn the time had taken.
Instead of dining down in town he was s’posed to be buried beneath.
The more he thought the more the loss of life unfair.
Wheeling around and heading to town fast as he could.
Down the sloping trail anger replaced despair.
Skeleton Sam a respectable man, with intentions not so good.
He approached the town and the gate rose o’er the sky.
And the sight of Sam did make the town crier cry.
“The undead have come!” but Sam spoke “Listen here,
I’d like to speak with the man you call your leader.”
But the man just shrieked and he did not flee he flew.
And as he ran off he said with a cough “Our leader ain’t talkin’ to you!”
Our friend Sam ever did ram
the walls that stood round the city.
The guards came down because of the sound,
and opened the gates with a crash!
And Skeleton Sam’s bones they did beat,
and burned till they were nothing but ash.
Now Skeleton Sam lies in the ground.
Only a pile of dust (not a sound!)
His respectable ruins are carried by ants,
And he helps give birth to many respectable plants.
She always smiled at me
and I always wore my intentions on my sleeve.
Or so I believed.
But none of us are that complex,
we are all see though obvious.
Swirling mists
on a swirling sea.
Our sleeves are hard to see.
She always smiled at me,
and all I could ever see was green.
And so I believed.
You always smiled at me,
and somewhere hurricanes ripped up beachside trees.
A simple step a simple glance,
–
When the sun sinks
sets down on the backs of the land
and black veins rise up
serene and still
then red haze
and my red veins dialate
and black rains fall
serene and still
Slung over a dune at the beach
after severing all ties, my eyes can reach
clouds pushing water down round the world.
Why are we here, is the question each
of us asks. When will the answer be unfurled
and presented to us, a pill bug uncurled.
I won’t hold my breath waiting for that peach.
The triangles on the skin of my hand
match the triangles I drew in the sand
they separate and recreate
and turn into all of the thoughts that I had.
My mind’s eye dilates and I evaluate
each image as it fluctuates, dissipates,
Makes me sad.
If the meaning of life were revealed,
I’d feel claustrophobic. It would yield
the possibility of perfection. I’d be ground
in ground, unable to move, knee deep in a field
of answers, giving the game away. Forever around
those who are golden gate bound.
I prefer the rules concealed.
The things we do will never last
an eternity. Think of all the things past
that are no more. Even if we try to scrawl
and scribe, our work will sink in oceans vast.
Books and books they line the wall,
thousands took to write them all.
The great sink last, with the mast.
On this beautiful golden beach I lay
beside the meaning I have today.
Granted it may change, but so will I.
Those still statues can wait and pray
for a sign, a message from on high.
My meaning is what I decide.
At all times She commanded the bold sun. Except
when young dusk grew, and His skilled hands washed it in thick ink
I used to pen the stringed dreams I had when I slept.
Her arms spread across the dim expanse and the sun swept
from horizon to sky, but He aimed for it to sink
at all times. She commanded the bold sun except
when the breath of night pushed through the blinds; it’s kept
at bay by halogen orange spun shadows from chain link
I used to pen. The stringed dreams I had when I slept
showed the battle of light They fought. Each one adept
at manipulating the others false move or blink
at all times. She commanded the bold sun. Accept
that Her light of daybreak through the glass so pink, crept.
Her stretching fingers, waking me up from Your dark drink.
I used to pen the stringed dreams. I had when I slept,
learned to shroud myself in my deep thoughts, the light inept
at stepping through; the light that wouldn’t let me think
at all. Times, she commanded the bold sun. Except
when I used to pen the stringed dreams I had when I slept.
We Bought the Flood -The Books
The triangles on the skin of my hand
match the triangles I drew in the sand
they separate and recreate
and turn into all of the thoughts that I had.
My mind’s eye dilates and I evaluate
each image as it fluctuates, dissipates,
and is gone.
along with the rust and the salt.
I’ll take a ride on some lonesome planet. and let my thoughts sail like warm winds blowing east and up and out into the darkness, and light the sky, glowing northern light, shimmering in the cold brittle air.
Seasinks
acraein 