The wings of dusk

Continuous and swarthy patterns
that landscape at my eyes
moving over tethered ropes
that boldly flutter among the ties,
wings that flap against the stone
reaching the never do heights
heavy breath and racing hearts
feeling the cold and bitter bites,
the gnawing of another day
breaking through the meaty brawn
tensing all that one creates
night crushing temples pawn,
muddy spew in un-gripped hands
no gasping left within bird
a shadows ridge at dawnings gate
and the painful admission of word.

A whole for love

I can honestly speak
from these crippled hands
that reach into the labyrinth
into the darkness of soul,
every seeking along the way
the caressing of walls
tender toes on stepping
and ears that hear weeping.

Tell me soul
where have I traversed
that I never find
someplace here nor there
transcending the heights
elusive to there fullness
and me among the maze,
speaking to love
an ever morphing face
that sheds the many tears
for me to feel
alone
in some strange place.

Crashing timber

12,000 memories ago
there was an infinite of a time
where leagues of thoughts all fluttered
and reason sang in chime,
but soon the flow would flounder
and logic was lost in waves
passions dried upon the shores
and love was driven away.

For a moment I felt the spark
of a million scathing breathes
they moved across a flame red sky
and laid me down to rest,
yet still my soul its reaching
hoping to find some way
across the myriad of rivers
where fingers break in pray.

Woe it is to break the day
when nothing here is left to say
a cripple through the sands of bay
under the dead lights of yesterday,
and yet my feet they move astray
seeking ever seeking
gentle flow of never mores
and sighs among the wreaking.

Soul speak

Not everything written is stoked

I assure you to this whimsical truth

some just write to babble

with the rhythm of a broken tooth,

others are so quite eloquent

as to lose meaning of it all

with whirls of denotation

as a giant coming to fall,

but few very few will write

something of a fluid tongue

not seeking themselves to be heard

but graceful to the ears of some,

their words adrift an open mind

and long out for to be spoke

wavering across a subtle space

landing peacefully where they float.