Cold stone phone woke again.
Courting song sung in tones.
Cold ride froze my toes.
Sorting words to keep sane.
–
Hasty call, “Damn it all”
I dive into the sound.
That old stroke coming round.
Spotting shrouds around.
–
Quarter hour of self defeat.
Crane bones. Lift to sky.
Stars pull ropes of mine.
(My weight while I why)
–
There’s tunnels buried under me.
Sloping sly, a gentle mile.
Melting down a fading smile.
Home again upon the tile.
–
Life’s about spreading kind.
Well I’ve been having a real good time
teaching you the ways
to one day take my place.
–
No, I know I’m going to be fine.
And if I’m not, my sign
will shine upon my face.
My love will make it’s case.
–
Because life’s about the love you find
and simple little frames of mind
and never running out of time or space.
You can’t lose if there’s no race.
–
The pride and joy I feel inside
supercede all previous highs
as I see you learn, love and play.
A fire you built for all my days.
You Shall Know the Spirit – Pfarmers
Maybe this time when I
look in the mirror I
won’t see a face
that’s so far from my own.
Maybe on a closer
inspection detection
of the differences
fade away.
In my mind I’ve got
some static frame from
some film that’s
never played.
And the man in there
never moved – he soothes.
He’s always from
a distant day.
But the light I hold
should fade away.
I’d never want to be
forever unchanged.
Because imprinted on my wake,
handfuls of birds strewn across
a lake.
I won’t see their beaks because
I can’t stay awake.
–
Mind is swirling with
northern lights, my pith
won’t stay quiet it will
never not shift.
a l e x – Proud Of You (feat. Alicks)
This is the light for a walk.
Just you and some thoughts.
Orange glow on the rocks.
Drinks hot and toes not.
–
This is the light just for me.
Unpack everything I’ve seen
and do it quietly.
–
–
This is the time for a talk;
dim light and decaf.
Let’s ditch the flock,
this wick burns fast.
–
A life armed to the teeth.
A cheetah out of breath.
A knife with no sheath.
All the things we build ourselves.
–
But this is the light for a walk;
in the hue from the loch,
picking the knots,
gapping the stops.
Maybe We’re Lost – Ugly Cassanova
I didn’t understand.
Talk is cheap,
Advice is grand.
They’re selling waves the sand.
You needed help
and all I could see was me.
Ropey kelp
in my darker sea.
Standing in my streams you’d find
my fear that you didn’t love me enough.
That I had not been kind.
That you were not made tough.
Unbeknownst to me,
like others with the sting
of stigma that comes between
getting help and forever treading.
Eventually as I learned more
about the streams I dipped my toes
I pulled up roots from my ocean floors;
Make way for further water flows.
You needed help.
Now all I can see is you.
Flying sea foam whelp
on my deep sea blue.
Yesterday
When I woke
I was all grown in.
–
I find
To my delight
I had done my best.
–
Coffee cup
With my friend
And four small hands
–
I sit
And close my eyes
So to remember
I’ve got to go too far
now knowing I cannot
cannibalize the bar.
I find myself within the knot
of thoughts of how our stars
crossed paths and then did not.
I did not need another friend.
Dead end.
–
You needed comforting,
but I was late and left.
I felt the shuttering
implosion shoulder heft
against the door it stings
of sins your father left.
You penned
every last loose end.
–
Well love is just a place
we come to visit when
we overcome the pace
of weekly cycle spin.
And while you ran the race,
you could not get in.
A rip you could not mend.
Again.
–
And then you flew into
the wild unknown of blue.
Had I imagined it?
Or was that a bad dream too?
Had I imagined it when
your heart was made of tin?
–
I’ve got to go too far
now knowing I cannot
cannibalize the bar.
I find myself within the knot
of thoughts of how our stars
crossed paths and then did not.
I did not need another friend.
The end.
To claim the ego to say to everyone
that we have anything to
say, well it takes a lot to tell someone
how we feel, how we are, what’s new?
The future we won is
just another bend in
the river we carved with
the way we hold our hands.
The way we watch our sands
fall from the rooms with
feather beds and bear skin,
But that’s not the future we want, is it?
And if I was the moon
staring at stars across the room
and I saw you,
I would eclipse and fall into
some shadow state
and hide my face
in fear that you
could see right through.
Some celestial scene.
Seems extreme,
but it’s meteors
we’re juggling.
Did you know you live
in the wrinkles of my skin?
And did you know that
what you want I would live?
The future we won is
just another rend in
the silk black sheets
that make up our memory.
The felling of another tree
to protect our heads from sleets
I wander in,
ivy, rains and winds I miss.
The tongue I’m biting on
is the tongue that doesn’t quit.
And in all the old records
wish I’d used my teeth sooner.
But I don’t know the state you’re in.
Washington?
Porcelain?
I’ll wait and see.
–
Smooth skin I was writing on,
write fast, memory goes quick.
According to old records,
insight lost the fight for
I fell into a state of mind.
Borderline
cognizant
–
that I could even talk at all.
Communication’s just a thing
I didn’t have. I didn’t call.
Now it’s old and splintering.
–
The hands for writing on
are hands of a finer grit.
And in all the old records
my hands foretold the future
that I cannot see that face again.
Face of sin.
Inky skin.
A poor medium.
–
And instead I sang some psalm.
Then laid the shit on thick.
And I didn’t win awards.
I know I lost our fight for
connection of an honest kind.
A mastermind
disinclined
–
to even talk at all.
Communication’s just a thing
I do not have. I don’t recall
having said anything.
Is this ending?
Am I sleeping?
I’m rearranging.
It’s exciting.
. . .
“What I’m feeling?
‘Course I’m reeling.”
A stretch for ceiling.
“Well, I’m leaving.”
. . .
Turn the key ring
Belt is squealing
but I’m breathing.
Heart’s alive and I’m breathing.
acraein 