Lyin’ on the bed,
dreamin’ of nightmares I’ve never met.
A glittering show of blood,
a scene that surely won’t be done.

Tick-Tackin’ is the clock,
I just don’t care about those eerie sounds beyond the lock,
whispers full of black,
like someone is trying to enchant a cat.

Earin’ knock-knocks on the door,
Death itself is down the hall,
it’s close enough to make me scared,
but far enough I barely care.

Sparkin’ is the future,
even if I already see some ugly failures.
I’m afraid, but I don’t hide,
so why should I even think that despair that’s no longer mine?

Darkness stirs the nectar
Of despotisms fatal cull.
A river bleeds out the
Fatal loss of fears cut.
Burning embers fall and
Gather, as villagers once had.
Near a smoulder, the wick
Of Creation sits in darkness.
The culling hands of Power,
Fear, and Hate, have broke
Again that internal flame.
I quiver at that piercing pain;
A pain that time has carried
Forever on the souls of man.
Darkness stirs on that ever
Broken nectar, who’s rot
Wares on the one mind.
I wish to calm those storms
Within, and light that candle
Wick and send that darkness
Running far off into the eternal.

Who dares do this?

[in the future from 01/19/22
the final night forty years hence
thence two years more makes now

12/12/2024… but I wished it happy early]

My gig is what? I read. Seriously,
sincerely
Poetic License

Speaking truth
to truth's power,

Magic Moment's You Looked Me
in the eyes, e-yes, I will, I expect…

I, the ne'er-do-much,
- be live for now,
thinking,
if the peace I take is metered out,
a measure
for a measure, ***
for tat, eye
for eye,
worth a minute, any time
my word on it init
all that had a meaning,
once,
I imagine,
rituals were kata, steps
in a danced how story, why I know

first step, emerge, be in time, aware
there are others of a sort I am sorted on,

male, confirmed, white,
circumcised, to snip a bit
there off the tip, for no reason, we just
do it
so

it may have held common sense once,
now it seems a secret reason, lost
in evolution
of the mind
of man,
measurer
of all things, sorter
of odds and evens, pull
to push, act react mimesis,
as we see
we think we do,
mirror neurons, telos, reason, cause
sui causal are we? Nay?
We appear,
and be as if formed
to a pattern,
framed as a fine sail… a
wind catcher,
hook burr grip, like a virus or
a sycamore ball. Yeah.

echoing yeh yehey hey, not that way.

watch the beach ripple in the clouds,
there is such a pattern, in beautiful places

and I grew old in one, surrounded
by grand children laughing into teen years.

This would seem heaven to many, init.
I happened as a part of it on earth, happened
around an artistical Tophet gift init getting easy

This is the price I have to pay,
That's why some say 'loving hard' is a curse.

As much as I love wholeheartedly,
cutting into my chest and opening up my heart…
I am but only a tiny flame flickering in the midst of the fire.

I can give everything, but she will always have other people to love…
to cherish,
to be vulnerable with,
to trust,
to build recurring relationships,

And I will just be another choice, a record on the dusty turntable lusting for your hands to set me into motion once again.

But... nobody said love was easy.


Nobody speaks of the jealousy,
the envy,
the selfishness,
the yearning to need someone so deeply or to be needed with as much intensity.

My perspective of love, is that it can be selfish … demanding … obligatory;
full of needs and wants.


But its beauty lies in everything it is made up of;
including the selfishness to hide a person away for your own benefit.

The demanding feelings to give someone your best,
Even when you are at your worst.

In the obligation to care and be empathetic, highlighting your best attributes.


Love is always going to be everything it is,
And everything it is not.
However difficult 'loving hard' may be,
I would not choose to love any other way.