*

Thinks you can muster,
Things you can do,
Bite an arm; put to test,
A strung reel of ability, of skill,
Who knew not the past self to do it now?
If not never, nor can never be done,
If done well, may it better be done.
When in failure, at least ye tried,
When not in failure, do better again!
So these the plans are struck,
To this our task is sought,
A beginning anew, nor late is bade;
A man unravelled is he remade:
No matter how big a task,
Believe in greatness; thou shalt be great.

*

Though I do not know who you are,
I feel a time where once I knew,
So sweet and subtle a feeling gay,
In midst of fog and dark did blur lights,
Who knew not this man to enter a gaze,
So kind at first, but cold at last,
Though few doses was enough, it wasn’t:
Like a drug mixed with the driest wine,
Who knew not what it was, what he drank?
Only a bitter taste with sweet after tones,
But knew not an effect so subtle thereafter,
First it was so sweet, then rich came poor;
This man once I knew how repressed,
And whose beast inside of me then encaged,
One kiss then slips another, too few, too much,
Oh, fog of hallucinating joy, kiss mine eyes adieu:
Why did you present with me such toxic waste to spell
His name then forsake me at crossroads to guide me here;
Did I ask Love to kiss my lips then soil my heart anew?
No, it needn’t must so; all love for him I now repress,
Whilst he alone continues his pillaging of others,
So to speak; but not for mine, whence now I leave,
But alas, my horny state I cannot forgive,
It was I who so ignorant of my being a storm is swept,
Then years later I’m reminded and so you approach.
No, I do not remember you; but I feel whom I used to know:
Leave, and so never return. Leave, and so never return!

Ill Sport

Though tormented in heat,
Bearing wound upon wound,
Is ill got whence a march esteem,
Who held no hope in path it seems,
Whilst he makes stand the gate is closed,
All around him are bars like dog enclosed,
Not by fate, but by skill and chance in fight,
If this be ought that now is done so right,
Let him be spared from all misery defeat,
Now send cheer that he hear not his heart to beat,
One strike and the crowd in hysterics,
Another blow he would ne surely fix.

Here fought a player by fist and glove,
Looks right and left, below and above,
Sees not himself, within, a beast untamed,
A demon lurks for thoughts he famed,
Neither sweat nor blood can stop him now,
Though thoughts how tough now ill bestow,
He hugs floor and foe in no match resolved,
And all past bound in heart is soon absolved,
Either man too weak, or sport too cruel,
Ere the chance is lost, vict’ry be ought his fuel.

Where he was

Whether there, nor here, a leak so sore,
And whirling through the ages past is gone,
And musing can it not shine light once more,
These steps he ought to walk before they run,
A smoothing sound, a familiar sound he rose,
Now breathes an air ill-fresh, nisc, contrite,
Ere all the life he once he had is gone to pose,
Seemingly in the dark, hidden in memory to fight.
The hours roll by, as always, by day and week,
He forgot the life he once had in a near-gone past,
Like a scent, these memories had succumbed so weak,
To gather a perfume, to shade a natural scent fast,
So that none would wonder where he is come to where,
Thus is ought to say he’s simply that from where he is,
This rapid change of constant revision as a train fare
When no one notices, then freezes at such remarked fizz,
It all seems a distraction he thinks, and no one cheers,
The western parts fared better, but it’s all gone now,
Now he says he’s back where he was, like all those years
Of seeking and hoping, come sought and hope for now,
Is stability brought, but yearns for unstable fraught,
Let me fall again! Just so I know I live, he says,
But no time is come than ill-got of present thought,
So when he’s finally that, then he knows his ways.

 

niesc = short form for omniscient

*

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.

Mirror

Years past since his mother a mirror bestowed,
Oh, adorned silver on silver etched light glowed:
Beheld a man of one whose first gift he saw,
In bitter hopes a greater value accost how sore
That this mirror was accepted ne free nor free,
But the price he pays is but age in cast to glee,
The falls of Earth, of rock, fire, the ether new,
Close thine eyes and breathe this soft kiss grew,
Whence fleeting joys ere placed in life’s disgrace,
Shall he look at the mirror and observe such a face
That changed for years that blew at speed, so bless:
He grew, he learnt, and a habit he knows at best
Is to observe himself and all he is and he shall be,
As the years grow, his face so changed he described ne,
Whatever account his life writ on heart and mind essay
So breathes the mirror to describe faint what ought to say,
From teen years rough, to mid years contrite, et cetera;
So long as he reflects, and knows all. The next day an era,
To look upon that which is mother, long passed, had given,
He looks, and thus he sees and he was in this world to live in.