Tag Archives: thoughts

Notes

18 Feb

Orcas: Until Then

The notes we leave

to remind ourselves

and others

we tried.

What else can we do?

I don’t know a hero.

I know those who

took what they were given

and made something.

And I know those who

took what they were given

and took their leave.

Some souls don’t weave.

—

The notes we leave

to remind ourselves

of others.

We tried.

What a simple clue.

Of our friends and foes

I don’t know who

Is still alive and thriving,

and made something.

And I don’t know who

wouldn’t take what they were given

and make a home.

To stitch and sew.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

My darlings

3 Dec

Bon Iver – Beach Baby

The wait of it all, filling

books with those I won’t kill,

books my darlings fill.

Scraps will fall, telling

how I keep my memories;

ones I’ll forget eventually

’cause sequences, strings and strands.

Cross my I’s and dot my and’s,

’cause I don’t know the state I’m in,

nor the vessel Magdalene,

or why old apologies

were so self serving.

–

Ways they taper, silent

does an end appear.

Does it dull the fear?

Is there a place to hide it?

Well I hide mine here,

scrawled within some post or mirror,

’cause I’ve never known the pain,

the cringe, the blow across the face

of losing such a piece of me.

But that’s how it has to be.

The sorrow on that last reprise,

to read my words through fresh new eyes.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

for me.

20 Nov

Sun sands sights. The lights

are smooth. I move. Your flight,

my rail, your tail, your coos.

Ways soft youths have proved

unkind. The times your tooths

drew blood. I shrug. Shut eyes.

Cold clean quarantine

and part whole heart is key

for peace at least for me.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Move

25 Oct

The Suburbs: Arcade Fire

I’m moving past

all the thoughts that I had

and cycles that seemed

never to end.

I’m here to amend

every inch of thread

spent in haste

of not wanting change,

because how could I gauge

what I had? The rage

inducing scene where I

leaned over in laze.

I couldn’t make the case

for not treading in place

but never again.

Never again will I

see through copilot eyes.

No more tying the ties

conjured by ease.

I stand seizing the yoke.

Every urge, every joke

of a crave, now broke.

I’m moving past.

Moving on into the end.

Every moment spoken.

No restart. No try again.

I’m moving past.

Moving on into the end.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Ritual 2

16 Oct

1928: Califone

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.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Losing the light 2

30 Aug

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.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Untitled 6

8 May

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.

Tags: , , , , ,

Home is me and home is her.

24 Jun

Lost//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js

Safe – Nosaj Thing

These are the lost hands that wrote my future.

The lost feet that are my ship.

Navigator’s lost the compass and we’re unsure,

but I’ll keep these sails taut til they rip.

I breathe in my chest and I shoot from the hip.

 

A world of mistakes are mine to make.

Mine to create.

I shake em loose

and ingest them willingly.

because there’s no soul in living blissfully.

I flee in my rest, and I shoot from my lips.

 

Connor, death is ever present.

every day’s a day gone on.

You’ve still got some time.

Some days to hear death’s song.

 

Sailing’s fine and living is nice and if

nothing’s nothing til I try it

I’ve got play to work

and a song to find it.

 

I teethe at the breast, and I’m food in the crypt.

I peak at the crest, and I sail til they rip.

 

Image – Abri_Beluga

 

Tags: , , , ,

The Fretted Terrain

25 Oct

I must soon quit the scene – American Analog Set

I recall our foundation. Of course there was red. I painted them in long strokes, uplifted by tectonic knife quakes, striped, a solid evidence of early onset B layer formation. In the middle of a vast body of watercolor. There were people on those and now I see them only in my dreams. Or I in theirs. Dancing.

–

There were two.

–

I. Imagine Monument Valley. Now forty times taller. Forrest Gump is a speck. A bit of dust in your eye.

–

II. The Fretted Terrain. Think of what the mariners saw. Think vikings. It’s like that. Red, falling, crumble. The creator resembling that of a drunk architect, or a spider on LSD. Rickety.

–

A return returns a retinal shock to find the tall stack, the I. toppled and knocked, or moved or all. The water’s gone. Now bone dry, silt deposits, slightly darker, coffee rind topography. All that remains is the crooked tower known as Carroke Point.

image: munir

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

drawing blanks

25 Jul 

Function - Tiger Cub Samurai


In quiet solitude,           sits.
I
       t  ol   d
                      her
              "de   ath
                        r  e s ts
   quietly.
              "de   ath       i s
 n        o                    t
                   k     ind.
           l           e       ts
                        run.
         s lit 
               de   ath     's
           lif  e."

"n   ice"
         s            he
   quip  s, 
                      her
                    a   r m  s
               de  ka     n,
      e           y    e     s
         sof t.
         s            he
                                   beckons.

image:dtomaloff

Tags: , , ,

← Older Entries