Wednesday, April 29, 2009

in sleeping for many days ferrying
dreams overtop skies clouded with
passive embraces, there was a lost
victim dancing on the crisp film
of water above and below
its infinite depths, where
the vampires glow their dead
suns to recede black, and trampling
crushing weights give way to silent
comfort, exhaling rays of rainbows
that many miss in blind masses of
mechanization, to consume coded
better to forget, and beget the value
of love over destruction, all passes
down in trickling lies of trickery,
a light burning backwards so as
to witness where those nights
left the myriad in an overtone
of grace.

Friday, April 24, 2009

sitting in a summer loyalty
and forgetting the past like
it never mattered, placing
new days as wishes, and
wishing each one to death
in the evening only to get
it back each dawn, my
moments that were
never there in the last
place, always in a differing
position shifting shapes around
corners that aren’t nearly
as cyclic as they are beautiful,
for what I’ve known, it has meant
nothing to each leak in my spine,
crossed ally, you’ll be the death
of a season, and welcoming with
tenacity and simplism as a new
philology that defined and derailed
many yards of train wire, name it
to keep it, and you'll lose what you hold
too tightly with fear,
those that claim an alternative
haven’t lost enough to know.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

we’ve faced many delinquent shadows
prior to the morning sun light rising
on a face stoned to disfigurement, some
facts reign true for night, but day rests
and longing cast moulds of eerie deception,
though you seemed smaller than I remembered
that growth had swelled opposites, and that statue
of stoic beauty bested itself, for now, there is
a stiff metal raising your murdered cane,
in an ugly rendition questions were raised
to be asked, and I answered in a truth seldom
acknowledged concerning the grievance
of traitors, with many gardened ideals
your season has ended, and while you may
have died, many grow beyond simplistic

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

a fucking sonnet.

dropped down to sink in a wishing well,
lowly emotion, dreamt for better days,
forgotten lives are past experiments,
pushed all ends in the focal light you see,
torment, I pray on the anonymous,
once whiles exclaim happiness for a change,
confusion rides infinity ahead,
all into others blended violent
showers and bourgeois, drunken lavishly
forever hinted, names, pseudonymous
meaningful nothingness in absent strange,
answered expression, search out seventh maze
for happy hands raised up in holy tread,
never anymore, a peering photocell.