Golden was my sight at dawn beheld, Giants scaled at large I slowly bid, Slow were my wings till flight withheld, Mine eyes drooped in mellow avid: I have seen the giants fall and heel, The sun collapse ere light be fraught, I have felt the heat they durst feel. Years roll through smoke and drought, Yet still I remain in this sac of draught, These new species I can't tell apart, Two bulging uppers and one hell a raft! Though I'm thankful I never dart! Yet, here I am, the foolish trot, Had I delayed a second by move, I would not have seen a million years, And this be same by seconds above. Till now those millions past, Glared by passer-bys here and there, Never knowing what story past, Tis sap guarding that story to bear.
Mirroring a Shade
People to me feel like shades,
They come and go by sun's blink,
At last it seems they never were,
Each step, monotonous, echoing.
The sound is piercing through me.
Like a knife, dicing the onion and carrot.
But then this knife drops, your heart jumps,
Are you wounded? Did the blade catch your feet?
If so, no longer be able walk nor stay,
If not, speak nothing more of it. None.
The monotonous steps are just like that knife,
Soothing when acting on something. Stairs.
Platform. Forget the park. Beach. No.
I told myself I'll only stand twice.
And though I can move freely, I remain. On the bench.
Witnessing countless posterity walking by,
All the steps of the first more flat.
Why? Are we growing sharper in tone, in thought?
So grow yea sharp every drop bleeds ears!
Eat silence, foul mind! Hence I am here sat.
To no end at all, am I sat looking over the platform.
None can see me, nor feel my touch. Nor hear.
Well, fuck them. These are the people moving by me.
Let it then, they stand and I'm shifting back,
And all the stones bite my wind with luck,
They became one with the wind. As that child is.
The car is undone to metal, all armour me shine,
To no end at all, my bench is carrying me,
To no end at all, I didn't care nor how I should do.
That's the pill of remedy. Not caring.
That was the song of the small pebble,
It hit me very well that. My head hit, full stop.
Then I saw the memory once again,
It never left, it was simply a reality frozen.
Hence these shades are no more.
*
That's when I met her,
On the ocean floor,
Crystal light spelt better,
A new gay door,
The times in jest bar swim,
What desire is told,
Along the reefs light is dim,
Still I walk and mould.
Shadowed Gaze
Moons would walk through shadowed gaze unheard, It seemed amiss caught fire our leaves bettered grue, With each orbit, in light's shot a sight was all but had, When finally hills are seen; craters spell their name, Hence each speck of flame our energy walking away, Thus came hand-in-hand, the moons in wake, light in awe Spread wings from halo light, of great force walked Moons, These are the happ'nings Lendayem describes and takes: Though it was never futile such gaze unheard be now reborn.
Asteroids
Said some years past how light gives way: Every rock of asteroid spins, So true it is how light brings all together, So true is it now we observe its axis formed, If yet make or break from hence the light, Each spin twicefold now oncefold once Ere the last is kept from dark is made. Bitter and fewer were each axes formed, Ones larger they spin as fast they come, As each crash from this was speed the same. So be an asteroid and here, remember this: Of all times and grueling measure foretold, Each asteroid shall crash upon you and break, You shall break, and you shall split in two, The mind so delicate, it too shall split in two; Though words like needles drive bitter woe, Can only go as far as skin, vein and flesh! Yet each one spins alone and much like asteroid! The first senses light, the second senses light; Then third yea ancient crashes against the newborn, Yet all they spin and continue round our gaze as new, These are the constant cycles brought we need, Then no space without life can suck life from us, So be an asteroid. Spin. Keep spinning: For it is then the Universe spinning round ye. To no end at all, still they spin, For light of stars touch them, It makes them spin as fast, Too much light, there lacks a spin. Balance, then! Meaning, and balance.
As it sounds
Listen the words sweet and sober, All is lingering ere tales veil her, In coolest springs is joy beheld, Laid by courses streaming held, At last brought before a city woven Hot in breezes sound as ought be open, Added to the mix was strength and mute: It could have been like jestered lute, Longing be heard, if not for rain, And when the grief comes forth, Little by little it dissolves as dearth. Life itself could spell the name well, Angst, and sorrow, brewed to swell, How now I live, so beautiful, so good?
*
Down a sound cool is taut,
My art swift and few he got,
Swims across the reeds how quaint!
Each paddle beckons near my bait,
So whilst you stir waters near and here,
Make please I've no tithes for fish appear;
The smelly lot indeed stir my stomach,
Indeed that wind of yours made mine suck,
So now I ask where's your dam in the damned?
Do you not see it's your damned breaks the dam?
Be gone! I say: toxic fish and heated iron,
Smelt my bone, wet my brows, voice my siren!
But never beget a reaction dear to ye;
That has a price tag. So pay me.
She’s The Freelancer
Bid pleasing tales of hope and glory, Brought by pages sung by canaries flying, A sweetest word borne of bitter story, Yet one could remember its feeling, And so spell it forshook erst in part, These are the footsteps of grass, snow; Of rocks and shores. The simple heart, Who goes where, where none go near, Whose darkness sullied comes better fear, Even whilst her conscience bids her here, It is still her heart turning her gear, Simply for the knowledge, it is passion; She tests and wrests her flag on this island, Though tempered shook can no moon undo; Thunder strikes each maid lost how sessioned, It is what mud itself can make flowers stew, Though spell I name this kindred spell, As though from nothing came pun as much, How glory so pleasing of hope and tell, That keeps such ladies going hundred much! Indeed, I scorn the principled art desire, So leavened my love be picked on hearth desire, Each pluck and tear gives me more desire, If it were love, I'd say it's moreso just desire!
*
Little I knew that sun be torn, Proved little of me than light within, That it has brought me stars to learn, A smile to know, the light is breathing; Each drop of my food, soup and bread, Be it the finest stew with meat be served, With wine I shall be whole lest misled, This much I fathom tell, this night deserved. A muse would come at my window now, No pun intended, this much I ere assure: Each star but a sun once I torn (it is now), So my cheapish words convince resure, Drink of the youth spent and cursed here, That sun torn became that youth divine, If ever you proved little of light so near, Let's sit and speak of misses now to sign.
Salt
How charming words can ill regress! If one could bite words off pages found, Let it be those most ill they digress! Yet could not tear 'love' from pages bound, Still they argue amongst themselves a flaw; Grief is set, the stage poured glass empty, Each step come words poignant sharp he bore, More is glass filled by gall juiced ill-contempt, Taste me more! the blade creases flesh fourfold, Yet in writing these give rise to designs anew, Ones that are nothing but rises hardly bold! Yet 'tis love, indeed; though I cannot renew, By sea apart, no land departs, the sounds dispel, Each step escaped, as they'd hammer strings, Like naive cats playing then descend to pedal, How fast they all run! All the keys a stair brings, So leap once, now twice, but pause a second! My heart is breaking, my member soring; The grueling blood mingled in fluid beckoned, Then he turned and paused, arpeggio fraught, Now I am silenced, now I am the silence brought, If there be any word from ye, a week now be ought, Whence sorrows bring, charms sped is sought, Though linger, hither and thither, each descend, How beautiful the feel! So sour yet sweet a drink, What is it then, how tastes ye mere raw limes? Whilst with salt it is indeed less bitter ye drink! It matters not; he walked away in bitter times.
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