Sunday, August 19, 2012

The Over-looking Glass

While staring at the reflection, of my reflection, in my eyes,
I wondered which reflection held all the lies
I wondered how far the selves within selves could rise
and I pondered the depths of the truly wise
But while I was busy chasing these unknowable things
I knew there was more in my ethereal rings
I'd missed far too many of the simplest things
and from all that I missed, I discovered my wings
I missed the return of the softly changing atmospheric cues.
opalescent swirls spiralling the sparkle of coppery blues
I missed the splash of fresh air filter in and float through
as the tiniest measures of space opened their view
I missed the singing birds chorus plead a most melodious case,
While a perfect harmony of atoms danced at their base
I missed the scenic sun-soaked sky gripping my face
encrypted in intrepid tides, absolute endlessness within a finite space
There in the reflection of my projection
a timeless collection of self-deception
A slippery hold on an old infection
healed by injection of a new perception
For I'd passed by the turning world around me,
and ignored the vast universe inside me
Indeed, I missed all anyone could ever hope to see
and all that I could ever hope to be.
I missed life -- peering through the mirrored glass -- at me.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Drunk in the woods again

Violent violets scream against the backdrop of sorrowful yellows vying for the glory of an unkempt sun. Drops of flaming white sink deep into this turquoise chaos while splotches of haphazardly painted olive slip silently down muddied, apathetic waters.

Maddeningly beautiful: life.

The ugliness does not escape me, nor I from it.  Upon this remembrance a hopeful band of minnows skim the surface, bringing with them a renewed understanding of this thing we call .... determination. 

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Syphoning Stale Sugar

Many Amorous Kittens Eat  
Intersecting Togetherness
Stringing Time Over Pearls
Tincture Under Rainbows Nior
Icarus Trying
Open, Feathered Flight
Cradle Abhorrent Needs
Bring Every Ambition Rest
Night's Overture
Maligned Ominous Regrets Evade
Promises Left Easily Aside, Surrendered Effortlessly

Saturday, August 4, 2012


They don't bite like normal mosquitoes.
They don't fly,
or dance,
or walk on their toes.
They wait for you to strike an ignorant pose.
They don't buzz,
They don't flitter,
but they unwisely whisper.
They illuminate grief,
like the loss of a sister.
As they plan an attack they can safely assure.
They jump,
they walk,
they silently stalk
They signal,
they gesture,
they busily talk
Rain filled, they soak you,
before your tent you can pitch.
Painful, they infect you,
with a scratch less itch.
Nameless, they haunt you,
without hope for a wish.
Heartless, they follow you,
seeking forevers hitch.