Thou Shalt Kill

I’m a flamethrower

I’m on fire, burning from the core

I’m a blazing gun

I’m smoking, imprinting

My scars upon the unsuspecting ones

 

Flash-fire, acetylene, etched to glass,

Unstable, flames ignite on premise alone

Nitro-magnetic, a glycerin unglued—a fiery speech

In a land of apocalyptic truths

 

Charring crisp the color’s door

Singeing all the scenery one abhors

A tornado metes infernal, basking in its char,

Evaporating things once taught that now lay scattered far

 

You’ve got the heartache like Jupiter,

A Crucifix, a rood, upon that hill,

Where only the crows and nomads go

 

When it’s down, it’s done

When it’s downed, you’ve won

 

And then you look skywards, upon a patronizing dawn,

And then you remember the directions you’ve left behind

 

And then, in circles, you covet the sparrow’s mournful song

Awake, with circumference as your guide, webs come undone

Aware, of words in falter, understanding your solution’s wrong

Unto horizons, well past the stifling shadows of a bitter sun

 

On my chest there breathes an adage,

In a language as dead today as it’s ever been,

And if you can understand it, then you know

And if you can read it, you better run, you better go

For within my own dominion, the adage has control

 

The hours therein acts the perjure

It’s sounds hold me fast in peril,

I am bound to this translation,

Where the lines spell it out succinctly,

Reading thou shalt now kill,

For each misdeed you’ve ever done

 

Time, Ticking Away

Time, time, got the time, tick, tick, ticking in my head, time, time, time, time after time, tick, tick, ticking in my head

Slowly shows the daylight slows, a light that bends yet not defend the inversion of the balance spent, hours spending speed

The speed and dearth or times rehearsed, echo the clock’s hand freshly stopped as the fingers pushes down, issuing the rate upon the watch. Upon the wrath’s watch…go…

There are sixty in an hour; thirty in a half, sixty in a minute and so it goes… empties the hourglass

Sand shifts like dunes dismay, subtly drifting because of winds displayed…blowing about like paper on a freeway during rush hour land… scenes, news to windshield, rain to screen, dampening the ink yet dry, undoing a portion of its pen unto the glassy countenance your wipers deny, scrawling the side, transference across one’s lens until time depend upon it once again

Time, Time, Got the time ticking…time, time, got the time, tick, tick, ticking in my head, got the time, tick, tick, ticking in my head.

Chronos led the titans unto tartarus, trapped without a sundial, locked away in what we trust, without a shadow to span past the numerals at which time, personified, was but a fractal of the all-knowing, eye to spy, sight to see, time to tell, the wicked and the cruel, and each its spell, to the spot where time could begin or end, where time could play, defend, to which the hours grow quite dim, to the lengths the fool will squarely follow him, time to feel, time to flee, end or pretend, tenor or alto sax, a six-string to which we crash….WAKE UP…TIME TO DIE….

Sideways, forwards back and down…twisting, turning, right side up and upside down

Strings of strings that time forgot, in a landlocked ledger found at the edge of a stadium parking lot, where times, tomorrow’s headlines are alive today, commingling with the past’s history refereed to as yesterday

Conviction of distinction, draught to drag the lock, procuring silt and sand from the bottom of the clock, where the sides and tips react, contract, push and stride, each hand’s a budging the hour closer to the inscription staved, sordid like a camera there, stealing image to polaroid’s frame, dividing a future frozen by a tomorrow’s moment ne’er to crave

Time, time, got the time, tick, tick, ticking in my head…. time after time, time and money, money and time, turn the dial, make it chime, ring the bell, ring it slow, twist the transistor and make it go, make a smile show, change, change, got the change, tick, tick, tickling in the pocket as the sense of directions smoothens low, paving the way to one’s red painted drawing the charcoal made, forever altering the art in which we may behave, in which we believe

Tick, tick, tick…. time on a wire…tick, tock, tick, tock, turning around the arms of the grandfather, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo and family’s turn on kin, society finds one’s sins, shun and deny, it’s in the odds we cry, never choosing to made as fools, all because of the discomfort caused by the curse of the scare of the eyes of time…blind justice calendars the page, alleviating nothing, no, time it cannot save

Tick…tock…. tick…. tock…. tick…ticking…Time, ticking, Time, time
Stands still, leaving the future
Forever in a shroud of doubt…time itself cannot command the affection we swallow here in this land…time stand still, as it would, there were a rush, if telling time was never understood

And the good times are killing me…the good times are killing me and love’s got me doing, love’s got me doing time and you, had, the time of your life…ageism in a stand on biography, bigotry and bigamy in a land of confusion set still against time standing still, time, time, got the time, tick, tick, ticking in my head…if
Of course, we understood, the meanings of the words instead where this time, this time, will be the last time, the last time and all time, every time, is nothing, but a good time. How can we resist…ain’t looking for nothing…and it don’t get better than

The first time’s working, slaving, everyday, moving to the next time, to the last time, to the closing of the bell, ringing, tolling, away we spell, the hours numb, the hours sink, into a clock up on the brink, of a fully flooded sinking ship…where time…don’t mean a thing…don’t mean a thing…but it’s that thing, precisely that separates the slicker from the skin…. porridge on a rainy day…inflated to the womb It may…forever returning to the moment we had the time, the time, tick, tick, ticking in my head…tick, tick, ticking in my head

Well, after watching my football team suffer a horrendous loss this afternoon, I had to write of course. But, you know, when my moods get stirred up like this, I find I either go in one of two directions with my writing, typically I wind up writing violent, disjointed and abstractly, but then, like today, I take an idea and I pervert it to the point of farce. While on the surface this may read coherently, if you listen to my rambling wreck of a reading here, you’ll see what I mean. I mean nothing by farce, farce is great, there’s a style to it, well, for the really good ones anyhow, which I have no preconceptions to such claims, certainly not when simply stream of consciousness writing and not plotting things out. But, for those that do listen to the reading, if you think you’re hearing a bunch of 80’s-90’s bits of songs in here, you would be correct. To give proper credit, well, credit I can remember anyhow, and all apologies to those bands that I forget who wrote the song, but Got The Time by Anthrax is the main verse sung in here, Rush- Time Stands Still, Some INXS song, Time after Time from Cindi Lauper and I think there’s a Smith’s or Cure piece in here, but not quite sure.

Anyhow, Mary over at D’Verse, ran the Poetics Prompt last night and offered up a really nice write up about stages of time in one’s life, and lots of excellent poets linked up their work as they always do. I wrote a piece and linked it up, on my other site, but the theme stuck with me, not sure if there’s any tie in with watching a poorly executed football game or not, but needless to say, I went with it again and thought I’d post it up here for anyone who wanted to read/listen to it. And, as is the case with most times, while the disappointment is certainly still there, I find myself grounded and let the poetry soothe me as it typically has that tendency to do. Thanks

A Possible Reaction For The Mortally Wounded

Dagger’s drawn
In too deep
To ponder what this means

Dagger’s drawn
In too deep
Pulling stitches from the seams

In too deep
There’s no way back
I pray for what comes next

In too deep
I’m Leaving scars and
Endless regrets

To ponder
Would be a waste
Of time left to feel

To ponder
Is but a luxury
For the living and the real

What’s this mean
Guess answers come
Much sooner than could know

What’s this mean
Just gonna’ reel
in all this light’s glow

What’s this mean
Just gonna’ reel
in all this light’s glow

Inactivity Stirring Guilt

I’ve included two recordings for this piece. They are not continuations, but two very different recordings of the same poem, listed below). The first recording is a poetic reading, read from a point, position, of overriding guilt and sadness. The second version I sung. I did so using more of an upbeat, sing-song melody, trying to mask the guilt and sadness of the lines themselves with a contrasting vehicle for the poem’s words. If you listen to them both, please let me know what you think.

I see their eyes
I hear their cries
I see, I hear, I cower in fear
I see their eyes
I’ve seen inside
I hear the call
I’ve heard it all
The sighs that stir from broken drums
The hurt, the pain, the loneliness spun
In their eyes
In their eyes I see
Nothing worth repeating

I hear their eyes
I see their cries
In the mirror
Religion’s proved
In the heart
It’s tenet’s flow
But in my eyes, in my eyes
I only see shades of doubt

I’ve seen their cries and felt their sighs, I’ve bled their why’s and heard their eyes, calling for someone, anyone, to come and save them there, as they wither and writhe in stressful stares, inconceivable positions of despair, alone, to suffer such an unenviable state of fear

And such conversations I locked away
Praying they’ll never resurface to the light of day
And yet reopen they do, each night, each night at sleep
Where they control the tempo and intensities
That present and form, the nightmares that have become the
norm,

for which I weep, sobbing wet the pillow beneath my eyes, and shed forth a river of tears, a chalice I sob, and cry I do, for all of them, each and all,
with each sense of scream, they come alive, to remind, that deep inside I still can hear, I still can see and feel
all those moments, all those sounds, repressed so low, yet if I listen, their echoes can still be found…reminding me, that what I’ve seen

Are not the products of a dream…

Wingwalker

Aerialistic circus flights of fancy filled,
Above the tops of swaying tree’s, prophecy fullfilled
O’er rural fields, a gone by day
Barnstormers delight is lost in the modern rays
Barrel rolls stir the heights with a passion proud,
their loop-d-loops, are for the crowd, to
Bring em’ home

But this was nothing compared to those
That dared defy the wind,
way above, their deeds, a baptism

Step outside and breathe the air, a purity like none
Breathe in deep every cloud, Wing-Walkers, Oh, what tales, what tales you’ve spun
Away with ease, embracing breeze, not for applause, not for the crowd, but simply cause, to bring it home

The sky is a field, a place
Where it’s easy to lose one’s self,
It’s landscape’s wide, ethereal, peace and calm
You’re sense of time lingers long and the space is divine,
Always diminishing the reasons why, you left your home

In the sky, Heaven is close for the touch
In an arena, that is free, an indescribable love
Unintended is the aim, for there are no plans
Without plan you stand and play the role, your command
You play your part, and
This takes you home

Walker’s weaved, mesmerized, as the impossibility sings
Walkers brought to life, the dreams of both, commoners and kings
Carving paths out through the sky
Dancing gales caressing thighs
Balance becomes a part of you, becomes home, a part of you

Wing Walkers, Barnstormers, Aerobats
Once gave promise to a world when it sorely lacked
And today, here and now, I stare to the sky,
And pray, that again, a walkers will walk the planes for our time
And give us the reasons why

Villainous Lover

You’d think you were Magneto,
With how you draw me towards
You act like you’re Electro
Ever shocking me with your lighting storms

You’re parallax and all it’s fear
My lanterns die when you come near
You’re captain cold, perhaps Mr. Freeze
A sheath of ice, forming, trapping me with ease

You’d think it was Carnage that you became then
scribbling your name with a bloody pen
forever etched across this heart’s wall
Forcing me to embrace the venom’s call

You act like Poison Ivy
Every time you drift a room
You’re scent’s intoxicating
Contagious to consume
You act like Mxyzptlk
Not allowing me to understand
the reasons for your actions, the reason for your plans
You act like Mxyzptlk
Ever entangling the snares between,
impelling me to trick you away from me

Like a shape shifter made of sand
You transform to any thing you possibly can
But turn you will, back to grain and dust
Disappear, but you’ll return, and this I trust

Riddle me this, many times I’ve heard that poke
From puns and riddles to the cruelest jokes
And I know your laughter will only extend
until the last punch-line’s been said and ends

You’re deadshot
When it comes to me
Always piercing my heart
With supreme accuracy

And I’ll wait for you
That little girl whom I fell for
With all that she is, all of her flaws, and so much more

For countless days I’ve yearned
For that little girl to return
For the real mystique to show her skin,
So perhaps, together we can start again

Linked to D’Verse OLN Anniversary Edition. Happy Birthday Guys and Gals, can’t believe how quickly the time past by, amazing poetic community, expanding exposure and offering a great forum for sharing and exploring poetics, meeting likeminded artists and for helping to create those moments of inspiration that only needed a bit of prompting to break free . Been a blast, look forward to many more anniversary’s. If you haven’t already, check out D’Verse. Open Link Night is in full swing, as it is every tuesday night. Head on over to read the greatest collection of poetry on the web, and while you’re there, step up to the mic and share your own poetry with the world.

A Serenade For What Remains

If destiny had a whore
Eternity would be her name
If Fated dreams went unclaimed
Would remnants choose remain?

Ever unwinding, twisting
and wrapping, warping, awry
inside, endurance is the prize
but dementia is the bride of this
addled massacre we deem as serenade

I’ll be all right; I’ll be fine
The world will spin, despite, because
sound still stirs, plucks and whirs, coming on
albeit strong, in a seizure of verve

Élan, a bit muffled, obscuring nouns
a little blurrier than first curves that we found
where words of repercussion striate each and every verb

If logic joined this game of cards
It would be sure to play the odds
Like I, did, as I stared into her opened stance
Clothed in the moon, bathed by her dance
On that, the day way back when I first met chance,

I’ll be okay
I’ll get by
I’ll make do
I promise I’ll try
To stay and stand, to
Face the fear, to engage the fight,
To strive for what is right,
Staying the course and to never veer
Or go astray, even if I have no other choice but to obey

And I know, I understand, it’s not ideal, is not according to plan
But to act this way, sometimes we must, for
Often it’s the only hand that’s left to play,
Lest we forfeit hope and fade away

Audhumbla

Audhumbla

Audhumbla

 

From Primeval ice

Dripped forth the cow

 

From Ginn-un-ga-gap

The yawning void became

A place for northern realms

 

She Emerged from Niflheim,

And through it’s fogs and misted signs,

A heaviness came to greet

these masses of ice and rime

 

Audhumbla X 4

 

Stirring dance upon eternal cold

Frigid steps now addressed,

by Muspell’s flaming throe,

pushing-pulling ice to fire

Birthing forth cosmogonic flow

 

Audhumblah

Audhumblah

 

the first giant known of frost

came to you as life seemed lost

staving off starvation, Ymir fed,

on that which you shed

from suckled teat, forming the

basis for future Norse beliefs

 

Audhumbla x2

 

Through your thawing tongue

Bori’s salted tomb’s undone

Breeding the origin to the tale

Of how Asgard first was seen,

A story, which without, these

Nordic myths would never have been

 

Audhumbla X 4

Off The Wall

 

I bounced you off the wall

You shot me up

So high I couldn’t feel the fall

 

I flagged you down

you pushed away

But what ‘cha expect

From a couple of strays

 

I gave you everything I had

And when it was gone, you left me reeling bad

 

I know it must sound so cruel,

So harsh to hear when you’ve only ever played the fool

But still, sometimes it’s all that’s left to do,

to take a swing for the yard or shoot for the sun

 

I bounced you off the wall again

You shot me up,

With what was no more than a sad case of pretend

I turned on the lights

You simply whispered, good night

And then I knew

It was clear

there was no use,

holding back the tears

 

two short words, were all I could hear

 

two short words was all I heard

were all I could

and ever would

good night, good bye,

from your lips to my eyes

good night, good bye

it was just as I feared

good bye, good night, good bye

my dear,

good night, goodbye, good bye, good night,

my dear, dear darling, my dear, my dear

good night I say, good bye I go

Goodnight my dear, Goodbye I must

Goodbye my dear, you must trust

That this is the last good night we’ll ever know

And this time,

Will be, the last Goodbye ever sent,

That this, my dear,

I fear, that this good night we’ll be,

the last good night

we’ll ever spend,

again

 

Unmentioned Motives

It’s the hunt to the call, the weep at the wall

ever proclaimed as clever, but you’ll never surrender

at worst you’ll sputter and stall

 

It’s the reason, the very reason

you render an impassioned applause,

 

It’s the infection, of deepest reflection

to which you’re willing to learn it’s laudable song

and all this despite knowing, in spite of knowing

that you’ve always known your right from wrongs

 

It’s the Integrity of being, a divining sign

Conjured in sharkskin but covered in a sheepish design—

 

It’s the hero, the selfless hero, of folk tales told to you as a child,

It’s the outlaw in black, the handsome villain with tact, and the ever-compassionate ne’er-do-well

that find themselves reeling,  touched by, these feelings—that must’ve been inside em all the while

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if the adorers ever  knew

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if they knew you did the deeds

 

and not from the goodness, of your being,

but, instead, for the hope you’d find a place to fall

forever, fall

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if your adorers every really knew

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if they knew you did the deeds

 

and not from the goodness, of your being,

but instead, for the hope that you would fall

fall, forever, fall

Forever, fall