I’m done

Ere no word of mention: I’m done,
All the words I said are all but gone,
And he said that I was all in awe,
I’m done. It was all for much this sore,
For heaven blind me this creased man,
So sing me tears from molten glass, an
Insight of this love once I foretold,
The months and years have my heart in fold,
So do what you must, and so leave me,
So give me nought, and now I am to be,
Is this it? Am I half the man I swore?
To disembark myself from skin I wore,
Now kill me here and all I am to sing,
So hearken my call; this love a fling,
‘Tis all but marred in mute task alight,
And won’t give life wanted without fight,
A shadow of angels now curses my own god,
And this god is the man of the inner dog.
Now I am whole again, I shall be better,
But when I see you again, I’ll think better,
Enough. All dreams I had with you. Enough.
It’s over now, and I have said how tough;
So muse me with silence, and all shall fade,
Close mine eyes; I’m done, and adieu I bade.

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*

At the casting dawn, no star no bright,
Did see it through the turmoil peaked,
In pleasure fought but pain embraced,
Sleepless brought, no mind would cease,
In the brink of hollow, so much as horror,
Did see the light, these paths unchained,
Who moves with wheezing gasp to shed,
Now saw himself between shadow and shade,
In lidless hue the breath he can’t deny,
So soon he bode in wreaths come align,
The chest so red and lips so swollen,
With changed voice from tongue to swell,
And ere brought from here to deepened downs,
Nor south may make south heaven again,
Did cease to be, and all was slammed indeed,
Now he returned and himself brought asunder,
How yea lifeless and soon he walked away,
So once he returns now warns himself this peril,
This musing night, so life do your worst,
He’ll walk again and muster rain and heat,
So he shall rise again with no relent to pass,
This hour is the hour he is. Oh yes;
Nothing will make him stand at bay,
At the birth of light, his life stood anew.

A wandering stranger

Some time ago, it was almost a speck; a boy I knew, but he was a strange guy. I didn’t know exactly who he was, but I could relate to him somehow. He loved to wander around in streets, even parks, the bay, under the night, lidless sky could not bind him away. I’d see him from time to time, walking. To no end. He would pass through the canals, cross the bridge, delve below a tunnel, and keep walking. He didn’t exactly know where he was going I thought; he kept moving back and forth, even looking yond his shoulder back. Whether paranoid or no, he seemed cautious. A hint of anxiety kept him, but he still kept going, somehow.

Beside the fact: this was years ago. I can’t believe it – five years. It was that long for a man his age; but five years can be five minutes in a squared amount of time. Anyway, I followed him. I wanted to know what he was doing, where he was walking, where he was going, the air he breathed, the sights he saw, the cars he heard, the people who laughed, and all the swans that swum past the brewing glow. This glow nought I had, in bitter thought comes shaking sleep. ‘Tis sound alone he ought to keep, the rest is bark to sleep. In this space, in this hour, half his sight was cast in gaze, the rest is brought in dark ahead.

Some hour later, he stopped where I just knew where he would stop. This was it. I cried. This was it. It all happened here. The beginning of an evening; the end of the morning; the start of endless night eclipsed by sun under the farthing sun. Everything just fades; echoes – echoes, into the fold. A sound deep, be it consumed in dark. Within this realm, there were no street lights, no. It was all different, you see. A bridge was yond from here, and there were lights, with some not lit. It seemed like it dimmed a road, and this was where he followed through.

Step by step, breath from breath, reduced to congealed blood that soured his heart, soon he kept his pace. His heart boiled and kettled vapour through each lung that sunk cold breezy air and dispersed a new life into the air around him. Within this dark manifold of sempre solitude shook the break of his communal worship in the gait that forsook his brow that gestured at the slightest sound that cast him from here to worlds above, so far from he, and not so far from reach.

Beneath two towering blocks, whose fumes used to bring gaze from all the city at long lost thoughts of musing jeer, at fusing cloth brought freezing fear fraught with a demise of a lost city buried under nostalgic price in gaping memory of one so lost. He stood beneath the biggest tower, sat on the grass, breathed the air. Thus seeing five brilliants of the night, felt four fragments of memory, heard thrice a wolf, a distant footstep and a ripple wrung with stone; twice he smelt a cool air and the smell of distant trees bellowing before him. Once he breathed, he became whole again. Once he breathed, he became me again.

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.