Side note

I don’t mean to be, I just seem to be
eyes that look over misty sleets
ears that listen in shady tones
picking up the scents of creeping,
my feet have moved over broken bone
and found their way in feeling
touching all that comes my way
splintered teeth and creeks in fleeing,
cold airs upon my twisted neck
all bound in wintry branches
covering my naked body hence
tender kisses and violent lashes,
so sleep to snuggle bound me soul
wrapped in the leaves of falling
I weep in cradles all spilling over
swollen limbs and blood are scrawling.

A life to tell the tale

Let us not forget the shadows way
when the Earth itself does crawl
where the waters run cold and still
that twist of blade upon the flesh;
running deep as a cutting shrill,
it cuts beneath the layers of skin
that gently cuddles above the bone
moving past the muscles flesh
till it reaches the death of home,
grips and knuckles seize to cry
at the wavering, loosening soul
eyes roll back in the fear of awe
as the veil opens wide for the whole,
and then the darkness it does approach
with its tendrils and lingering note
scraping along an endless mass
the skin goes pale and dry the throat.

“And where in life did it hold its worth
oh little little twisting soul
was the heart your sailing vessel
love and care its giving goal?
Or were the worms of want and need
your hunger over the starving
anger, hate, and bigotry
poison seeds of greedy farming?”

Breaking in

Sometimes I hear beautiful things
and they layer over my soul
drifting past my memories
through the thick layers
of a fluid subconsciousness,
other times I see horrific images
and they blend with the shadows
melting into my imagination
over the depth of oceans,
there are places I have felt too
all around my fervent scope
exploring every facet
as a fish might swim through space
or a rabbit on the moon,
but I know what these are
they are figments of creation
a point in time where everything wishes to be
but tumbles back into the splitting seconds of the day,
where sometimes they don’t stop again…

Tapping out the blind

I stammered across the open flay
and gathered my thoughts awry
standing by the wayward winds
the aerie songs in pitch to fly,
and upon the slated restful tear
arose the open heartfelt clear
of the infinite laying road of sheer
that walks one on to the face of fear,
and here to say I speak no cheer
upon festivities of yesteryear,
for alone we die to the living sneer;
where the coil it sheds to the hearkening.

Mass occur

Depth the cry of tender feel
along the stranded stray
where feet they break on tattered strains
over creaking along the day,
eyes a crash among the waves
where rocks all point and scathe
and here they come the scattered throng
from the deaths that long the way,
yet harmony plays her sweet discord
in the rhythms of falling short
where the memories are all knotted up
taking reap of times cohort.

Damaged repercussion

Little falling Holly
was sitting beneath the rows
of broken tattered faces
all wrung and wrought with foes,
across the seas of happiness
where everyone paints their face
to look as real as real can be
conformity in displace,
these rivers thrash and overflow
in rising weeps and waves
washing the hands of bloody trace
and crippling cracks of broken graves,
yet still the stillness
it clamors through
like the flora of afternoon
seeking desperate the sunny rays
of an end that comes too soon.