When he speaks

Listen: the sound of cool breeze and swift cars pass. These days grow new and eschew old in streams to an ocean of memory await. A long time has past since we fought, then we knew nought what it was. There was a boy long ago who constantly did, never ceasing; he would argue and attempt persuasion to an argument fraught with nought the meagre void for which they were. It seemed clear that none was the wiser, but he still persisted. Could we have been mistaken he was a fool? Well, I’m not sure; but he was thinking ahead, but now he’s shut in the bowels of a decreased mind in ware resolve.

So, we went to the river and looked ahead, and I saw him drooping with a head low down. It seemed like nothing at first. Though a single expression he showed, it was the rest he sowed. The rest was what I wanted to hear. He could not begin to express them, as he was in such a state that he knew not his real self. He knew not who he was or the very element of such an existence. I would say he’s neurotic, but that is enough pejorative than he could muster and solely accept. Bring him here, along the banks. A slow walk to the river, but there were toadstools and a sort of retreat from everything. It was peaceful here. Somehow, I thought he’d be himself. Let him wait. Let him move on. Close your eyes; breathe; become yourself.

Talking to himself he was, I knew it; he would. That’s who he is. No one could truly understand him, but that’s why we love him. He’s a mystery in some ways because he expresses so much without his expressing such himself. A man in a dark cave would see all in the light but not himself, and those exiled from whence could not see the man he is, but hear only faint words and a gasp for breath through each vowel ushered in the fold that cracks the tree.

Whether these troubles ill or will, nor the solutions apt or sapped, the leaves shall still grow again the next spring, once the cold is spent; the ice is thawed. Now, give a bird her nest and let us be free; leave your problems there: four-score a threat is that which resides within. So dark is this come mind; see the light, now breathe it out so I can at least get some rest!

“I tried, but I can’t.” He claims. “It would not be the same without me. I try to be good, but it doesn’t work out good. I fail in everything and I try to succeed in hopes of compensation.” But this compensation, for what? You are whole, and need not compensate for your losses for there was never no loss to begin with! “Now, I see. There’s a loss in your logic, but now I exceed your bounds of reasoning with my flaws in prose and rhyme”. Not not could it be his wits, then let it sing through this, nor walk through river to swim, now leave that so grim-

“Perhaps. But I’m not ready.”

A trip to all those who know, and being with new folk will make a difference. Open yourself as you did a child and let the good change you. The bad have changed you at that age to grow you a man as you are now; but it doesn’t have to be that way. Do not let them win. You are better than that.

“Perhaps; but I don’t know what I want.”

You want to be yourself again. You’ve succeeded. You are yourself here. Now, with every step you walk from here shall you plant a seed that shows who you are, where you are and when you are.

But that’s how I feel when blue

Ere mine hour is a little so queer,
Give me a bit of white, some wine,
I’m a little chic, so I’m that freer
Then I’m a spaz for these eyes a line
Had widened so well. Now I’m a brink,
Silly dream I had, a lion on Saturn!
Who’s the breeze, if I attempt a wink!
Alright then, no dance for here and turn!
Bring a sax, I’m in the mood for a gist
Whom come might may ere lid flame get,
Sunk my tongue in a glass then pissed,
Now I’m so blue with no yellow forget.
Right, an owl hoots at twelve ne gay,
Nor mute is Gab bending for this pet,
He’s a gay chap, give slap for a way
Untoward the breeze to think I’m to let!
Oh! I’m a little too gay for some to be,
Hold me close whilst i recite this song,
It won’t be till I’m finished with you,
Then am I then sure this moon so long
Give me humes: chast my mood so blue!
When I’m so blue, all I do is laugh;
Ere my laugh is spent, I’m again blue!
So we’ll give a folk some breather ‘nough,
I’m too gay to say enough, now my hue
Is. A. Thing to be wigged in breath fought!
An angel sings a name then I’m so gay!
Blue on the moon, now I’m breathing fraught.


A horse rides in the midst of mind and sand,
Ne gaze neath the hooves from whose rider brew,
A sudden madness, and the drops of rain short.
Give commas and colons an argument present,
A lady in waiting strangled by fate is fought,
Ye give reasons he should not pass you by,
Ne friend, ne breathing not, ne thinking nor
Shall he picture a woman hoisted at sea,
Nor from the east, nor of the west at bay,
From afar he watches tears of grace befallen,
A storm in heart breathes ripples yet slow,
Yet breathing in the water is a lidless word,
And a cracked Earth whose ground it shakes,
I’m breathing water and drinking a harsh cold,
Give me all figs that God had so me concealed,
Let these waves of words wash upon your figure,
Crash that dress in white till salty urchins reap,
Whose Madonna I perverse a niche figure retain,
Do your eyes not give leave your gaze upon a sky
So rich in spoils of hope and colour you lay waste?


Every sound becomes a noise,
Every noise becomes an echo,
And every echo becomes a memory,
And every memory becomes ripple in the ocean,
And every ripple joins the waves at sea,
And every wave moves a stone ashore,
And every stone becomes the sand,
And every sand we walk,
And we gaze beneath the sun, above the sky,
And every sight becomes the last night.

How tastes your sorrow sweet delight,
These words falling like shallow rain
Could then bring tears in darkest night,
Not so much man to ease his reign
On feud in he within resides,
But cool in thought but jest he laughs
Through which he brushes tears aside
Then claims this cup of water nought,
But even holy tears they seem
Ere drunk from which is best foresought,
Nor Sirens’ call true redeem:
So he knows more himself to feel.

The darks are turned, the breath is laughed,
A stone unturned, ere breaks a wheel,
Winks aside, freaks alight now toughed
To shame all but none himself. So peel
Every soul, every man, all he is,
In school was taught and break in bar,
But demon instinct call him to this:
So now he is brought through the bar,
And come never the stakes so high,
Lidless ego whined for a while,
But all he tastes was blood so nigh.

Man’s Comedy

For even the Sun so potent, so bright,
Can only live so long ere dawn resign,
And at last its life in space to fight,
Had only surpassed its limitless design.
Even a Man as God he is flesh within,
The days are stretched, nights so long,
And he looks back those yore days living,
Only to weep tears harsh in silent song;
But I am humbled, dare the ego speaks,
And must try more for crowd in worship,
For without the crowd I am but weak
To cry worse than endure hardship.
His thoughts race, his heart endures:
This chaos he brings is his alone,
The dogs do bark, his fear so pure,
A fall he begs, a prose to moan,
He can’t see past the end of his pole,
For there was nothing yond perceived,
His greatest fall had come to hole,
This repeats till he’s none conceived,
Like half-vase cut from top to base,
With no water can then it contain,
No plant to hold efflorescence.
Like coffin this vase can retain
His pillaged soul till morning drew,
Already dead, his hair coarse and thin,
Then lone is brought is ill he grew,
All he is left is now a thing.