Seeking you

Every star, a story untold,
Hermes sought a light now gone,
Limp is he, but whose stand is fraught,
As breeched his air now casts a dew,
Breathe a light so my life is so!
Rumi, give me the darkest depths of light,
Hafez, alight mine eyes on God’s dark iris’,
A Milton speaks here, so give Maker my life
In Ire, nor ere more greater words we wrote.
Shakespeare chant, and now is being non-being,
Negative as I seem, nor cynical as I optimise,
Seal my trust of breath this happiness lasts,
I seek the dark, so do You. Reader, seek, seek!
Money and charm, fame and breadth the world deny,
From Kilimanjaro, Everest. Oh, Chimborazo! Deny!
Now I see a moon, a star, more stars, a dark.
A past I forsook, even Cleopatra is her snake relayed.

Bring all venom from whose deny,
Give breadth mine art this solo,
Breath the wine that breathes a lie,
I play the tune that fills with sorrow,
Oh, it is now my crease from whose awry,
Now sings songs of hapless woe backward.

Lady of the Portrait

Help me, for canvas imprisoned here,
A respite too short for crowds near,
Mine art is subtle, if not to freeze;
I weep, for this smile would not cease,
That nearby clock, you see? I count all,
Seconds pass, every hour, till it tolls,
Beckon mine eyes apart; one is faded,
If tears allow, the other shall be aided,
I am cursed by paint; he is cursed to paint,
If he saw my tears, could it be he’d faint?
This potrait is alive, I am seeing you;
I can hear every word you utter anew,
Ev’ry argument; ev’ry debate; ev’ry word.

I can make out a reddened eye you broke,
A single eye that tears, without art provoke,
Twas how I felt when I was being drawn,
No more. The Lady of the Portrait is born.
In stormy weather; I am here: a rain pours,
My naked hand an umbrella poised by force,
A drooping head since these long years,
My constancy is but a sum of all my fears,
Now I’m free a while, to step into your world,
Examine all that is, understand all you mold;
In the midst of silent dark where non can see,
So give me leave so that privy I may be free,
No amount of patents you call, nor right of work
Ought make demise of my being nor essence a work,
I dedicate silent acclaim to a silent wish,
Now I but dance alone is all I sole cherish.

With fading time, softening wind, my drooping pursue:
A time is nigh for all fun to end and pain ensue,
For an obligation to fulfill, a frame calls me near,
That same frame, whose bars encapsulate me dear
Here I am, back, and as though nothing was meant,
Alone and in disgust, this portrait that I say,
A sun that melts me, a rain washes all away.

Cool Sand

Echoes to my right are clicking rocks,
These stones that dance come here my way,
Nor scorn the heat as much I sweat,
This burning mound is last I try,
And left I looked a door would close,
The last spots of light are gone.
If Mithra can offer a plate of dark,
Then I shall taste honey from flower more,
So give me leave to pollinate
The dried tulips to eschew tears in flood,
Bleed my cheeks, scour mine eyes and ears,
Let me walk away and never return.
So burn my nails nor book to scratch,
With no brow to pluck, no life in luck,
I give the shade a worthy name in stone,
So when I finally lay down above the sun,
It comes clear to me now this is anew.
All is silent, but I can never be.

Blind Boat

Concrete mounted on a particular front,
Nor mountain can move formed construct,
But I have a plan: I am going affront.
If I don’t get out, I’m truly fucked.
I can’t live; as birds migrate here,
Their wings compass, minute gaze so vast,
A bird I call; no wings beckon near,
Give me a set of wings so fast,
Away from sun and water I prefer,
They’ll call me neurotic; am so queer,
These widened iris’ right and left refer,
Not a blink, not a sound, nor a peer,
Dance my ears to footsteps this crude,
Yet so feared and now I am this lone,
Not even through the others how rude,
Everything’s gone. I am no longer me,
I am out. Now this stage thus breathes,
Innocent me, mad me, as best I glee,
Woods. Birds. Nothing in the eaves,
Damn, if only a bit of light to guide
To rest myself by night for cool watch.
My electric mind zaps at all who bide
Attention to one laughing this much:
No one following. Ha! None here? Ha!
The boat: there it is. Now, we flee!
It seemed a mirage at first comme ça;
A simple boat, but, what? How silly!
I have no headlights. No torch. Damn.
Let me drive by moon’s grace then;
I don’t care where I go or how I do;
So long as I escape. Away from ram.

*

I speak will of night, so ill of day,
Is all I know, lest thorn be known,
More drums I dull lest heart be drum,
In muse I wake, this cry I fake,
The meagre weep is lasting sleep,
Who knew this breeze lest rain to freeze
Till morning drew this life be brew,
From which I drink, from which to brink,
No dawn in sight, no man to fight,
No more is tried now branch is tied,
These hours be gone is come goodbye.

*

Before stars could write,
No light was ever born,
And when the stars wrote,
They kept themselves away,
And where the stars keep,
So long are those to dwell,
But once the stars are whole,
There’s little to be said;
Hence whole, they united,
Who touches the darkest sky,
Who bleeds for stars so still,
How bright and still remain,
At last to fall, last to fall,
A war be waged in them disperse,
A war they fought within,
And when the stars spoke silent,
Then only thunder ere flame brewed,
In many a shape and form,
Their song is many of the same,
A story from thus risen to fall,
And when the stars befell here,
This sun could but they to hide,
Hind the cloak of light they lay,
To give stars reason in knowing,
Their last was only their first,
Thus when the stars were past,
Their essence becomes the future,
At present, I can only wonder.

Within the Widest Space

To envy the past for what it is,
For better nor for worse than is,
The wind that blows slowly passes,
A subtle movement once it stirs, gone,
The buildings stood thus again stood,
The cars that drive shall drive again,
Another day that passes, another sun,
Nor night that covers the eyes soon,
The trees that glide through time,
The clock that still is whole but ticks,
With every tick a drop of rain utters, Read More

Story of the Night

There was this river I once knew,
So beautiful was its nightly glow,
But sometimes I would walk past,
But sometimes I would not pass,
And at times the river flooded,
So much pavements were sodded,
Yet someone would always wander,
Yet never knowing what to ponder,
A life so still and so fragile,
Can only be so quiet or agile, Read More

*

One step at a time they arrive,
At once part their heathen ways,
Alights the shadow as once it were,
If light were vacant and me derive,
A fairness that blooms hither in day,
As such where night falls I blur,
By stones that roll they never sleep,
As sounds their crashes I fall too deep, Read More