So saith

Give me hope,
There is no rope,
I need a rope,
There’s this rope,
Who could hang me here?
There’s nowhere to hang.
If all I knew could fall,
Who talks to brick wall!
So speak my name,
‘Tis only lame,
But what of my name?
Nor speaks its fame!
And my life?
‘Tis only strife.
Where’s the road?
Who’s only road,
Can speak in roars and fire,
The art of one so dire,
Who likes me anyway?
No one likes you anyway,
But, I have a love who does!
There’s no light to toss,
No darkness but here inbred,
No breath to scar our souls,
We’re alone.
We’re alone.
We’re about to fall,
So shall we fall,
Or Moon so light is nigh,
‘Tis light that is lie,
Or thus we walk to fence,
In bitter grime defence,
Whose feet in dark imprints,
Just birth and death it prints,
All between birth and death,-
Is meaningless so saith:
All the world. All the time,
There was no world. No time.

*

Nor could he accept who once he was,
From the ashes his blood shall mould,
From ash image anew shall form,
Here neath come man he ought to be.
The space between him and world far,
A breath of light this sun dispel,
As strangers known in kindled grey,
As bitter friends, himself betray,
And all the days in mieu regained,
In he married, in joy retained,
Now small hills keep watch of spelt sun,
Rays would write his name in gold,
The steps he take now a stone print,
To look back, and all that comes here.

Directions

To the crossroads they went and saw,
Ghosts prepared meal from dry bones
And waited in spores and riches held,
A moon gazed in light; all light so rich,
Anew were the footsteps in echoes brought,
This brew of soup is last I from yond try,
Nor beg the moving roads in sand to pass,
Nor check the hooves of dead horse trodden,
More sake in bitter feel in chastised hope,
A pen I ought to try but no hand to take,
A pillar amidst the orbit of all life between,
A figure bows, more figures arose to sky,
The ladder I build for grace I weep to sigh,
A lingering cast is brought in me and life,
And all is wake in whose life I ought to take,
If not for mine, but for thine; let it be mine,
All rebirth I am shall be turf in kindled bake,
Whose road I ought to take, nor left, nor right?
No way forward, but we’re kept in mind’s jail,
So kneel me before the light and see me frail,
Oh, decades past; my hair so grey I am sorry,
I should have went, but could not have went.
Forgive my delay, I could not decide where,
Pity me for being the man who could not walk,
So pity all I am and rain me an ocean to fall,
Aghast the breech of hope is dainty glow reborn,
I shall try as an ant in utmost order prevail,
The blackest of which in blackest of all night,
Behind the blackest stone, atop the black marble,
Whose sounds unheard by those I once I was,
But He knows. But He knows what ought I am.

A Joker’s Plea

Kneel before the capo in death’s respite,
Nor cooler is divine this idol fixed here!
Amuse, alight, enthuse, so fight in early dawn,
These kindred sparks of hope are cumbered fear,
Nor the war and enemies afoot can sunder cheer,
Kisses the ground and in all hope is found,
When lost it is still yet found in fleshy wound,
So bend and so kiss, and so taste from delight,
And so, and fear, and kneel, God is within;
All wars, all peace, all kisses deign untoward,
The broken spring whose cheap Rolex is unwound,
Adhere these dolls ye counterfeit fleshes recant!
And there’s a busy section in the musing cast,
And the breathing time is still as much as I.
You, the reader of ill-contempt are numbered one,
The breathing lark is time and jesters disguise:
Alas, this breath is soured with poison ivy
Please me now and now I sink into soul and flesh,
And now, is a joker more so than without your laugh?
A step afar, a step in ark, a small toe dips inward,
Thaw mine ice and kill the whale who swims my mind,
Let awash ashore and all pc aphorisms come divine!
Oh, so this mind is but celled and jailed in skull,
Give me open air, release my mind as a drop of water,
His mind.
The art I am is but mind prepare.
He is lost; he is a mind in half.
I am the joker of all jokers with no cards at play.
No joker on deck is for joker at sake,
Yes, now I a joker am more human than these rats!
Give me those mind-numbing pills and happy doses!
Now I sleep, all I go, all I shine, all I fade.

In the meadows

Listen, the sound of sweet lulling kiss,
In murmuring bay is cast aside a hiss,
Speaks of wisdom and all dark days late,
New Muse in the distant shadow ye hate,
Believe me here when all I say is true
And so slap me twice for hatred through,
Is here but now the art of war in mind,
Known here are keys to write life behind,
How prosaic are the mosaic stars idyllic,
A cool known breeze blows tears so thick.
I cannot sing the air to be so want of it,
Now drops of water in a distant are lit,
A path ye shown ere breaks the heart,
The words it keeps are the ones at heart,
Do you sometimes regret meeting at first?
Do flow’rs bloom when two clouds quench thirst?
And all is awash with silent tears to drown,
A sinking heart to dwell in mind to frown.

And the night;- closes around me,
The silence is but blessing in me,
A curse is love but so is blessed,
A God oft I knew no more to test,
A larking spree in hell’s match,
A heaven known in meagre patch,
So burn me and love is all but lost,
So churn my blood till all is tossed.

Demons

Every wing becomes a scar betrothed,
Everything congeals with blood so weak,
An echo calls the moon by fools aloof,
Their sounds so silent only mad can tell,
And with every cold touch is ill begot,
And all but none can none say they heard
A creep lurks in the dark in trees behind,
There it breathes the fear you ought deny,
Soon it bleeds your angst with thoughts proclaim:
Never mind the love you seek in heart’s recess,
Never mind the mean you hold in great excess,
I will not pass into shadow as I am such as is,
Nor back down ere your shadow crawls to this;
The tale of great delight in those parts there,
Forget all who knew you to be so fair,
This night is deigned in new pleasures gain,
And what resistance you hold is ill but vain,
So coming with me, no pun intended, is right,
And slide all but skin ere sleeping muse is tight.
For hypocrisy is as virtue a vice as sung by fame,
It be never; perversion speaks not my name,
And if I am got, so shall I fold my heart in two,
But if I am fought, then may my heart rise at once.

*

And from where wings are clipped,
Held by branches these thorns hold,
Ere mine how soft is brought to fall,
Tender sleeps the eyes their locked soul,
Who frees himself from veins how scratched,
No better the darts in bars ye throw,
He would walk through them as he does in you,
Mentor the lights to guide your path away
For fire brewed in heart at angst with mind,
Nay, it ought be for leverage gain in sight,
And the cello plays, nor Marais complain;
Cast me away to the sound of beauty regain.
‘Tis in the nineteenth year this century,
When written a year earlier a man forsook.
Now art be gain, ’tis loss be had in shook,
Now finished are words wiser for hearth fought,
Now marred by feline cues this man is sold.
A cello, and a piano is violin but ears unfold.

Moving Out

Ere but all the times to know,
“A drink? It’s boss. I’m fine.
There’s no need. I’ll go.”
It was not the drink of wine,

Nor the sound of fear in sleep,
It was a sign to make a snare,
How now ere the sirens weep?
“I have to go back and tell her.”

So she thought. It was the time.
“Expecting myself to cry and break.”
There’s no need, no sour words as lime
Can dissolve your soul and soothe your ache,

And if I – “Already, I am breaking here…”
No; every Phoenix rises from ash to win.
“I’m soon there.” Text me when you’re there.
As I write, a jailbreak is about to begin.

She’s about to make all words said to count,
All the while ‘I love yous’ we engraved,
A final note would suffice before we mount,
A simple thought that you’re now saved.

I have got us a home, not the best, but do,
You showed me the way, now the keys and rent,
And ere the battle is fought she ought to
Fight with both mum and womb she had lent,

Though cords be tight and chains must break,
It be ought in this most vulnerable pose
That her life truly embodies her past forsake.
“I’m moving out. Well I have to, I suppose.”

“Because I love her and I want to be with her.”
Tears as rain not even this Storm can muster,
These hours so long and few aren’t fair:
A storm out there, and a storm sought to cluster.

“I’m out. This month I’m leaving and that’s that.”
She told her. It was all done and she’s affected.
How afraid she was! What a dear heart to pat,
But now she’s broken free she thus reflected:

“In all my life I’ve learnt patience, foresight,
And to give those I love the exposure to flourish;
But here, I have all I ought to give others right,
But in me I have but none to give myself to nourish.

In these times it is yet so easy and so free
To objectify our greatest qualities in world adorn
But to apply all this in me is not so easy,
It’s another story as tearing a poetry is born.”