1. Notes: 2 / 1 year ago 

   Words from a Dream

   I’ve regenerated the sky again,
   and now all that I can see
   is the hemorrhaging of energy
   where your star’s spot should be
   
   You’re pretty and you’re wise
   like the old young Queens of yore
   You’ve bested me far better
   but, really, who’s still keeping score?
   
   I’ve entered your memory’s chateau,
   with hands raised only as a show of peace
   but still I am to be greeted by old guards
   wearing wreaths bound with plate-armor grief

   • Tagged:
   • Writing
   • Poetry
2. Notes: 1 / 1 year ago 

   A preface to an Ode - Per aspera ad Astra

   It is so very hard to write about us
   and harder still even when I’ve tried
   You wanted words that I have lost
   Do trust that I’d give them otherwise
   
   For we were born in, and of, a lust
   A wordless dictum of a phallic quill
   invalidating an expression via thrust
   Things shifted, words became a must
   So, hence, my dictation at your will:
   
   My hand has so stayed from penning
   in it’s patent, maybe well-worn, style,
   words used previously in condemning
   those whom I’ve now chosen to revile
   
   I would seek, and as I’d claim rightly is your due,
   to distance even your passing, fleeting mention,
   but especially when the context is poetical review,
   the notion that you conjure in my mind’s dimension
   from the inferior attempts that preceded finding you,
   to elevate it from their taint; immaculate ascension
   
   These are words which needed saying that I willfully neglected
   Truths, true as tautological, that I’d have still zealously rejected
   Though now I feel a surge, a rush to which I’m easily subjected
   as regularly as precious thoughts of you can be feasibly expected
   I’ll start my scribing, damned be my constant want of the perfected,
   long overdue is an appreciative appraisal being your way directed

   • Tagged:
   • Writing
   • Poetry
   • The You
3. Notes: 1 / 1 year ago 

   LAPping at the Black LACE of a DEMON’s Veil

   I believe it to be so that nothing can be truly lost forever
   but oft rather merely misplaced, transmuted or forgotten
   Those few words of utterance, before ties were to sever,
   might seem as if scattered to the wind, long since trodden,
   by time’s fear inspiring tread, whence memories slowly rotten
   
   But rather, to the contrary, they live on in a different manifestation
   That moment’s words, and their vibrations in the surrounding air
   transferred energy to the molecules around the vocalizations there
   Subatomic oscillations carry the legacy of your meaning by causation
   spreading through the world like the shedding and dispelling of a tear
   does extirpate one’s sadness and sows it quite rightly anywhere but here
   
   It travels onward like a vagrant, whom hasn’t any home
   and must always roam in that aimless, almost flagrant
   trawl of someone cast away in a sea topped with foam
   frothing with all the concepts sown of emptiest dismay
   
   Was it good that it even arose?
   Now, it won’t cease I suppose
   It may never reach a repose
   What a thing to transpose

   • Tagged:
   • Writing
   • Poetry
4. 1 year ago 

   Pages yellowed with the Ages

   My eyes, at mine mind’s behest, continue a ceaseless scan,
   wearied though they’re now, being nary so inclined to blink,
   wide with fervent reverence, of my library’s immense span
   Re-reading the archives of rotting parchment and fading ink
   Words now so ancient as to seem sourced from another man
   
   My poetry grows stale, regurgitated and copied
   It is taking form of the forms of yesteryear’s folly
   No longer is there pain for them to properly embody

   • Tagged:
   • Writing
   • Poetry
5. Notes: 2 / 1 year ago 

   Permafrost

   Today is so very, very cold - in mood and temperature
   Thinking of my yesterdays, they were always like that too
   I try to picture warm thoughts - a burning effigy of you
   Gauge frozen, zero lost; extraordinary becomes regular
   Eyes watering, soon weeping, bleeding out my blue

   • Tagged:
   • Writing
   • Poetry
6. Notes: 9 / 1 year ago 

   Correspondence through Time (on the matter of Obsession)

   Part I
   
   First, a brief, but vitally important, letter to my past self,
   so a younger me might find it and save my mental health,
   it’s to be cast, once it is ‘bottled’, as far as possibly adrift
   on the sea of time’s shifting tides amongst the cosmic rift!
   
   ”Oh, you must preserve your sight as if it were your mind,
   and protect it by refraining from your prior profuse peeking
   For though rampant curiosity is not likely to strike you blind,
   what it is that your inquisitiveness will either come to find
   is the honest, brutal revelations they have inked in keeping
   with reasons good enough for the spurring of your weeping
   or maybe you’ll discover jibes written with the malice of unkind
   motives which memories and thoughts of you are now assigned
   
   Ah, but curiosity! That such oft famed lethal cat enticement,
   is so very likely to call to you so very kindly that my advisement
   towards avoiding the piercing pains of an after-fact realizement
   is still ostensibly to seem as an easily dismissed forethought
   so even as you read what I resignedly write about our hindsight
   being in your state of eager foolish stupor you’ll care for naught
   You’re probably still longing after what it is you’ve so long sought”
   

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   • Tagged:
   • Poetry
   • Writing
   • Dreams
   • Neurosis
   • Narrative Poem
   • Letter writing
7. Notes: 21 / 1 year ago 

   Do you know the black?

   So long contemplated, a final contingency I did dread,
   a plan which was, sadly, utterly and truly my last resort
   and though they’d no doubt think it crazy that I’d fled
   there’d soon be but awful comprehension in my stead!
   Since my flight if heralded they’d surely seek to thwart
   Alone must I wordlessly escape the ever-nearing deluge
   of a throughly diseased world; to a realm in lieu of ark
   I will finally find sanctuary, and come to forge a refuge,
   to secure mine own safety at a secret dwelling in the dark
   
   Now, some time has passed, and I am finally content
   My initial acclimatization was difficult but well assured
   Spinal blades re-sharpened, I’ll continue my descent;
   free-falling willingly is oft considered suicide ensured
   The only constant here is that darkness has endured

   Here, where your dirtied, sullied time is not allowed to go
   Here, where the worldly axis is forcefully thrusted off-tilter
   Here, where dimensionally the globe itself begins to slow
   Here, where all is unnaturally still now, and darkness falls
   Here, where black is so much blacker than any that you know
   Here, where the resounding dark is so seemingly virus esque
   Here, where twilight’s crass hospitality is reaching out to grow

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   • Tagged:
   • Writing
   • Poetry
   • Narrative Poem
   • Black
   • Darkness

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