exspiravit in machina

 So I sit here at my table as the sun is goin down

I'm surrounded by forgiveness but feel the heaviness come down

The sun showed out its brightness through the glory of the day

But my eyes only see in shades of gray.

I want to pray to God but I don't think he's really there

To feel a glorious purpose through the thinness of the air

I hear the conversations, think they're shallow and obscene

but their smiles expose the emptiness is me.

I wander down the twisted roads of thoughts inside my mind

That if I tried to say them there's no words around to find

A cavern with no light and waters deep and dark and still

I'd reach beneath the surface but I can't survive the chill.

I'll lay my head to rest and know that sleep is loathe to come

And then the visions rise and leave me waken, cold and numb

then in the evanescent morning I will rise to face the day

and love the sun but know that I wont feel it anyway.

Foucault's Folly

 strangely smiles that seem so deep but do not reach the pale

do not find a purchase in the hidden hills and dales

but linger somewhere in between the skin what is beneath

and fester there, abyss where nothing lingers in the breach

not hidden from the heart but locked from words that speak

a blister 'neath the surface, behind the eyes so sleek

and no accolades can touch the poison that they hold

no trophy, sunshine splendid, can penetrate into the fold

of the deep uneasy comrade sitting just beyond the light

that has no form or constitution to direct a healthy fight

A label is applied and simply does not stay

descriptions offered up but not a map, a way

for the old ones are forgotten, the paths that one can walk

the beacon light was buried, found to be full of fault.

The marker of its grave has long since turned to dust

though it calls me still through the corruption and the rust

and speaks in whispered silence of a life that might have been

then, just beyond my grasp, dissipates into the wind.

leaves me here to wander, unfixed and searching for the ground

but I stretch my toes out earthward and, no, it can't be found.

So I seek the cheapened solace of the medicine at hand

a poultice to dissolve the compass of my soul

leaves me standing in a desert

longing for water to dive in.

 

 The darkest days are left behind me

and the bitt'rest tears are shed.

The harshest sadness and the anger are, like you,

Now laid to rest.

And I, and you, and we are left with this cup in hand,

Left among the ashes, trying hard to understand.

And I won't ask you for forgiveness

For the things I did not do

And I won't entertain my anger, 

I don't think you'd want me to...

But when the sun descends in crimson

There behind the distant hills

When I hear the thunder rolling

Beneath the iron horses wheels,

Your voice, your face will come to me

I'll speak to you again.

And few will know it but I'll hear

You echo back in mountain winds.

So I don't know if you are listening.

I don't know if you can hear.

I don't know if you can sense 

The longing and the bitter tears.

But I'd like to think that somewhere

past the alabaster skies

There's a part of you that feels

the hollow seeking of our eyes

That you know that we, the remnant

See your face, it has not died

Hears your voice that vaguely echoes

with the flowing of the tides.

And the bits of you that linger

changing slow from pain to hope

Walking silently beside us

on the road that we must go.

For we will not forsake your memory

We will raise a sacred glass

We will hail to you, the fallen

We will take to us the task

To raise you up and in our silence

and in all our gilded praise

Will not let the memory wither

Will not let your spirit fade

And when all the things are crumbled,

And the worlds are then renewed.

We will search the hallowed halls 

For the glimm'ring light of you

There in hazy evanescence

We will stand there at your side

Reminisce of days long past

of the fickle seas, the tides.

We will stand with you again and,

sneer at death's temporal grasp

We will clasp our hands together,

And to lips will raise a glass

 I have seen it, there the pot of broken coins that sit therein

All the hollow infestations of the ones redeemed from sin

I have felt the grinning nothing and the mighty nods from them

As they tell themselves how pious and how humble they therein

And like an orb that glitters bright reflecting sources oft nearby

Dancing brilliantly and lovely , just as long as others shine

But after sun has set and there are no others bright within

And no spark is found to take and nurse reflections outside in 

It is darkness they embrace and soak the light that others shine

It is the nothingness that draws the life that's yours and mine

But, in the end it does no good to raise a fist against the dark

It cannot see your rage, cannot contain an inner spark

And though the urge does come to stand, to shout, to muster strength within,

What is the point to fight when there is nothing there to win.

Paths

 I do not have the answers for the questions that you ask

I do not have directions for your quest, your sacred task

I will commit to nothing that will give your soul respite

I cannot help but drift off as you tell me of your plight

I have a path somewhere that waits for me to forge it new

I have a walking stick that needs a splinter and some dew

Don't look for me to steady my feet here and sit with you

Don't follow me, for I may not lead, nor likely follow you....

bitterness

 I don't know the things that I've been feeling.

I want to understand what I have done.

I try to comprehend the words that roll across my mind

but there's no clarity, no place to run.

I think I did the right things when I knew you.

I felt our souls connect when we were there

I knew the man you were and I was with you

I don't think that I reached to where you were.

I knew the pain you bore, the things that haunt you

I reached beside you, grasping for an end

We shed our blood and sweat and loved the moment

We spoke of virtue and we spoke of sin.

I can't escape the vapors of your memory

I look around, it lingers everywhere

So many dreams and plans became entangled

And now I pull them back from bitter ends.

I've tried to keep composure, keep my presence

I want to be the strong one in the crowd,

But when I think the tears have finally ended,

They seem to always come and find  me out.

Fighter

 The small, still fear that creeps against the still of the night

It reaches the tendrils of its melancholy, its paralysis into the soul

It asked the questions that dredge up emotion and terror that harken back

Into the dead past where mild devils, bereft of potency but full of vigor

Speak words intent on consumption and decay, regardless of the truth of it all

But those demons, they know. They know the words to say, to inflict entropy and fear

They know how to debilitate, to render the ambitions void

To pull the soul into the abyss of failure and resentment

It is the burden of the strong to bear this

It is the furrow that is to be plowed with the marrow and the bone

Those timid souls who look on from the outside scoff and revel in their mediocrity 

They sneer as if the path is simple, as if it has no weight

They posture their simple jealousy

Never seeing the creeping doubt

The seething fear and blood

They do not know the terrible glory of plunging into the darkness

Of grasping the hell and torment of impending failure and doom

And wrestling from it a semblance of peace, purchased with blood and tears and sleeplessness 

And thus, the gladiator finds himself alone, though the crowd revels and fawns

And slaps his back in cheap camaraderie 

But he remains alone.

in memorandum

As if the air has weight beyond its allotted place

Pushing down, crushing, seeping in like bile compressed into the soul's space

And I remember each tear, remember each silent torment

I remember the invisible crush of the words unsaid yet left to foment

I felt your eyes, your accusing eyes

Placing that letter, scarlet, around my neck

Judging and quietly moving in the dark to punish 

And draw out malicious vengeance

For the crime of sight.

Sight that lays bare the ugly taking

Lays bare the greed and sickly sweet wakings

I saw you and you hated me for it.

I threw myself to karma, to truth.  I walked on

Though the thorns and daggered blades of your morass pulled at me I trudged on

To find myself, eventually, stepping out in that far place

The same man, but changed.  Missing parts, others bulging and strange

But always the strength is defined by the absence, yes?

The cup cannot take in more without spilling, yes?

And, in that bit spilt, though it is well spent,

Some piece is too melded in to the offall to be kept

And I must look with longing and see that bit of me bereft.

Thus I sit, long after your hooks have torn free

Long after your darts and arrows no longer reach me

Though you, no doubt, still feebly cast them about

Unaware of their pitiful reach, their impotency.

Yet....sitting here and remembering,

I feel them just the same, 

Though the part of me they tore has long since succumbed to entropy.

moments

 A soft, chill embrace, the midnight wind 

Touching, whispering a comprehensible sensation that leaves the skin flushed and tingling.

And the yip of coyotes calling to one another in a frantic cacophony,

The distant splash of waterfowl, the bovine lowing, bringing a life into the cold night.

Stars beyond counting wink down as if to co-conspire on the cold dirt road.

It culminates, it amalgamates itself into this,

A moment.  

Fleeting, quickly passing into the fading ether of the past,

Yet imprinted now.

Edges fuzzy in recall, the details vaguely lost, yet the moment remains.

Long after the path is spent and days have changed, it will remain.  

Indelible on the canvas of the soul,

As much a feeling as an image, perhaps more so.  

And this moment, this hazy snapshot in time,

It is to be cherished, to be coveted.  

Long it will offer respite.

When the whirlwind of the people and places that tear at us all leave the soul tattered and trembling,

Deep into the quiet vaults of the soul one looks and draws it out.

Tattered from wear, from the frequent caress of gentle memory

It, the moment, will bring warmth against the cold.

Will bring peace against the raging chaos.

And in time, if we are wise,

We will see.  

Life is not beautiful because it is punctuated by these moments.

Life is beautiful because it is lived in these moments.  

Guard the moments.  Seek them out.  Live them in memory over and again.

For when the curtain closes, those moments will be all we really ever had.

Rememberance

 So now we raise our glasses 

To the fallen, to the gone

Who look down in silent vigil 

At we, who must move on

I will never cease remembrance

I will raise a glass to you

I will thunder out our voices

Reviving memories anew

That I may we earn my place among you

That I may we pay the debt I owe

That I may rise to meet the ones

Who set themselves to be my foe

And when the tally has been counted

And on my shield I am laid down

I'll raise a glass there with you

In Valhalla's halls renowned

pictures of a day

 quiet here, the peace of lonely solitude, reflection

remembering a tilt of head, a slightest voiced inflection

the moments and the glances as the shudder clicked the day

and relentlessly they ticked and spent and now they're gone away

and though the images left here are sweet as honey's taste

the distance and the miles will no doubt wear until they fade

and winds will blow and draw it down like pebbles turn to dust

leaving little more than detritus of longing turned to rust

who am I to weep, it is this loneliness I love.  

the deepest pang that fuels the muse, the drive to rise above

the biting pain that draws from me the words so bittersweet

the stories and the epic tales of love, so rare and fleet

it is the desert that I love, naked and so bare

though I drink the sweet oasis these feet will not stay there

in time and of their own they a' wanderin' will go

to wondrous desolation, under the lonely starlight glow

and drifting through the sage in skin so tender and so frail

and gazing to horizon though I know 'tis no avail

for when I find these feet have walked to yonder, jagged rise

there'll be no rest, but a new, compelling path where I'll abide..

searching

Changed I am and changed I'll be,

The constant drone of travesty.

The telling tales of cauldrons three,

The best of us, the best of me

Is lost in time's wicked embrace,

Is kept in memory's leathern case.

Is tucked away from morning sun

Is left with things now left undone.

For once I stood in open places.

Longed to bask in sunlit spaces.

This world it seems, cared not to taste it,

Crushed it, burned it, beat and chased it.

Left it here a broken tome,

A well lit room without a home,

A silent, gazing, epitaph,

A parody at which they laugh.

But I will walk this broken road.

This endless, tragic, richest lode

Where silently beneath the soil

Awaiting sweat and endless toil

Somewhere a gem is waiting there.

Is sitting, silent, quiet there.

Is longing for my hands to touch

To grasp and feel the timeless rush.

And there unearth the sacred flask,

Nectar which the gods do ask,

That fills the soul in ways unknown

And satiates the dead, alone.

And brings to it the breath of life,

The exhalation of sublime,

The bold sensation of alive,

Antagonist, but without strife.

So I will sit and look about

At all the scenes that move around,

At things that catch and hold my eye,

And pray my search in peace will lie. 

And pray, though fate may prove it so

That this is not the only road,

That this is not the fate decreed

That on this lonely, broken screed,

My feet are destined there to tread,

And wander, awestruck, breath but dead,

And gaze with longing deep and wide

Upon the scenes before my eyes.

Partaking none, but loving still,

The satiated, the fulfilled.

 

the breaking hold

Like a drifting breeze you passed out of my day.
Remaining still, I have the pictures, the scent, the stirring of the air in passing
yet I cannot hold on to you.
As if passing on a street and the scent of lavender wafts,
disturbing some long lost memory and
turning, I look for it, just out of the grasp of the countenance.
For the briefest moment the tendrils of some pleasant thing gently
and quietly waft across face, enough to feel but not enough to see.
And there I stand, mildly puzzled as I feel that sensation drifting away.
Then I turn, walking on my way. 
Content, but carrying a silent sadness and longing
that I feel but do not comprehend,
knowing some deep and wonderful thing was there and has gone,
and I, the broken, able only to brush against the quietest awareness before it slips away from me.
a single, confused tear falls as I walk along
longing to hold on to it
knowing it will fade, will it or no.

The Deepening

There is a wind

That takes me on

You will not know me,

Thereupon

The lovely curves of beauty deep

Are lost upon the frigid steep.

I am not there, the one you see

The one you love

 You long to be

I am not there

The crimson stain

The constipated, foul refrain.

The place I stand is far away

Far off from where your fancies play

Far off from here, your tepid ways

A distant score, a wretched place.

And there the darkness dwells so deep

You cannot know, you cannot keep

You cannot help but fall, so steep

Infiltrates all your peace’ed sleep

But wake’d mind cannot contrive

The cold and feckless

Fratricide

The call to empty, silent place

Where there the emptiness embrace…

the horseman

And I sit silent, contemplating
I explore your wicked way.
I recline and let you rage
considering your your stain'ed page.
In darkened corner I reside
and watch with curiosity,
the ruminations of your petty soul.
Your deadly, mild tease.
I feel the pointed darts
you fire upon me as I pray.
And I feel the consternation as
I try to walk my way.
And I know you deeply fear the
places that my feet may tread.
And I know you have no spirit,
No passion, only dread.
And in the walk, so far,
you feel that I alone am done.
You feel I have been shut away
Your territory won...
But wary, there
my little dear,
I fear I've not begun.
If you wake me, harsh you shake me,
If you make my blood to run.....

Do not rest your laurels on
those feet of clay so red
Do not close your eyes and slumber
on the filthy sheets you bed.
Do not make the deadly error
made by many walked before.
Do not close your eyes and lift
the wary watch upon your door.

I am wakened, I am shaken,
I have counted up the cost.
I have made the calculations,
I have pondered what is lost.
You have pressed me,
You have squeezed until I've no more breath to give.
Now I rise and, with the earth and stone,
will compensation give.

,,,so walk thou softly now, there's something new,
some nameless menace wakes.
A demon from another world, a creeping, groping taste.
It will strip you, leave you naked,
there exposed to their bold glance.
Though you beg with supplication,
It will offer you no chance. 

For though you have forgotten, this darkness has not memory lost
And though you have forgiven, it still remains and counts the cost.
And though you offer up as currency your countenance so bright,
It will expose without remorse all of your rottenness and blight.

So bask within your victory
So hollow and so sweet.
Pay no mind to clouds that gather,
To mustered storm , do pay no heed.
I am coming now,
The horseman now,
He rides upon your door.
Pray in deepest supplication.
He will ride for you no more.

the deepening

stop your slow kinetic refuge
stop your effervescent glow
do not whisper sweetness softly
do not glance the way you go

I have seen your lips pull hungry
I have felt your draw sublime
I have delved within the deepest hidden
ores from which you mine

I do not resisty intently
I do not wish to escape
I offer quietly the neck to bite,
the tender flesh, the nape

Only here I make the pretense of
the one who looks away
Only here I lift my eyes and
all of you in me I take

For the deft illusion of
the meek and mild place I stand
is but a quiet malefactor
of a hungry, empty land

that pulls, devours, consumes
that draws you in and rests your soul
while pulling from you life, the strife, the tides
the drama that unfolds

I will advise you, dearest love,
though you will not take my advice
these paths you walk are steep,
they have been paved with wast'ed lives

It will consume you, will remove you
will rip down your hallowed halls
Will decimate the sweet embrace and
bitter, sneer as towers fall

and none yet have beheld the
terrifying power of these chains
none have felt the awful crux
excruciating, bitter pains

can you stand here then
before the mighty fires of the deep?
Can you mock their hollow towers?
Can you run with hooves so fleet?

For to temper such a flame
is task of epic, mortal tome
Is fit for songs of many ages
Songs of warriors that roam

and what will you then do
when that bright fire you though was out
then rekindles, in midnight's winds do
flare alive and without doubt

will you have the will to stop it?
will you pull it to your soul?
While it burns a flame that pulls from
earth and stone that makes you whole?

check mate

quietly, the rustling movement of the cloaken mind
takes a step towards, furrowed brow, deftly moves behind.
intent on easy subterfuge and patiently he sees
all the tiny, little glances, touches, purposed subtleties.
so little is invested and so little offered up
for meager light to shine upon, wine to fill the shim'ring cup
a dance is stepped unnoticed in the dim lit, murky sway
outside, the lookers cannot tell the predator from prey

locked in combat gentle on the chessboard of desire
betting currency of pleasure on the edge of wrath and ire
tossing coins of jealous gold across the table made of ice
making cheap the heavy cost of what is virtue, what is vice
deftly and with purpose she now turns and looks away
he smiling and unmoving, eyes transition, blue to grey
unseen the cords of ether and unseen the hands that strive
pulling silent, resolute, a struggle deep within the minds

touch, a moment linger, and then turn and walk away
see the moistened lips, the hips that sumptuously sway
as taught the lines, the reels, the binds with lightning stretch out firm
baited hook becomes a smouldering look, the other player's turn
deftly and intently, let the settling net make blind
and draw the soul into the endless wells of deep fathomless eyes
close her in and wrap in comfort of a warm embrace, benign
then off now further down the shore, another game for which to find

knowing well the fickle nature of the shoreline that is walked
and the hollow tenderness of all the nets of words he talked
smiling sly at those who, angry, shake their fists and cast their blame
but throw their gold upon the table, ante up to play the game.

on navigating the bogs of the dying

Take the hazy photographs down with you when you go
Line the rooms you find, the tombs, where voices ebb and flow
And decorate the sumptuous cakes and treats they spread upon
Sweating table top, the putrid slop, to eyes on which they fawn.

It is sickly, it is sweetly, it is decadent, this tune
Music lightly, young and spritely, heavy painted and perfumed
Cast your glances, risk your chances, cast the sweaty dice again
Looking quickly to the others lest they deviantly win.

The wisdom of the ages, bought with money, crisp and bright
Speaks of notions, deep devotions, foreign essences, a blight
On dais dim, a din, a tune that speaks the elegant, divine
"Look!  Enticement of these vices , are all theirs, they are not mine."

The hollow feast, the rancid beast, the emptiest succour
Fill their belly, drain the well and dip a greedy hand once more
Wrap a cloak of smoke and soak their deeds in virtue pure
Engulfing aura, pour a little more, this stain'ed cure

Some little lies, gentlest goodbys, a scene for to maintain
A dusty stage, a rage, apoplectic acid rain
Veiled and frantic antics aimed to halt at any cost
Lest the set be met with light of day and then be lost

So entering this oddly placed theatre of macabre
Walk thou softly, look aloft, ye, do not trust to vision, Love
For demons there, are clinging there, and they do not concern
With hearts a'beat, with wondering feet, with what their fire burns

Do not touch these hallowed trinkets, do not whisper words of doubt
Brace your shoulders, look not bolder, though you're in, you are without
So'f by the grace of God you trod, you plod, you tread to yonder shore
Cast off the dust, the rust, disgust, walk on and dwell on this no more.

Reaching

I reach for you, tantalizing against the summer moon,

You sit there, warm against my embrace, feeling the pull of the ecstatic draw,

The pure and servile notions of a lover’s desire.

I reach for you, desperately seeking the feel,

The sensation of a touch, moment.

A moment.

When I find you I am full, the singular fullness of a lover,

The singular fullness of a need, fulfilled.

I feel you moving beneath my skin.

I reach for you, knowing as you draw to me,

Knowing as you need me back,

Your skin is against me, filling my soul….

I reach for you….

Stones, Common in Kind

I sat and tried to fathom you,

I sat and spoke my mind.

I spoke of petty things to you,

I spoke of things unkind.

You talked of conversations

Of the words of days gone by.

I told some secrets of my own,

I spoke of passing by.

Hours passed and there we were,

Spinning the words of soul.

Spinning and telling things inferred,

Things, some new, some old.

We walked down roads long left untrod,

Places we had been.

Lived memories we thought were gone,

Lost and found again.

I found a tinge of pain I keep buried deep inside,

Followed feelings home again

Remembered friends of mine.

I spoke of the regrets I had,

You spoke of those you bear.

I asked just how we all could tell

Just where to go from here.

I do not think we ever found

The answers that we need.

Perhaps these conversations are simply manna

On which the soul does feed.

The sands flew through the hourglass,

The failing light long gone.

The time was forced to end,

With words still left undone.

Fleeting taillights shining

 as you drove away.

Bittersweet,  but glad you had been

part of this long day.

And as I slowly sauntered back

to a cold and lonely place.

I wondered if you looked back now

And you too felt the same

I sat and tried to fathom you,

You sat and spoke your mind.

It seems the stones that make us two

Are stones common in kind.