Tag Archives: Chaos

Empty Inkwell

What writhes in the deep, O sweet beloved
my metronome, and spoken truth
what thoughts cross our paths on a night like this
dementia, and speckled swords of fallen stars
a dark dream follows me, quick to the heart
a hallowed moon, and a haunting memory to pass the time
still words in the dead of night, a still word
four hours until the sun bites the earth i move upon
a dawn of new things
i walk down the street and notice the jars
empty pockets of wealth and remorse
a jar moves into view, then another
in one i find a world unknown, pain
in the other lies the remnants of my youth
red hair appears, running down the brow of the universe
it marks the blood of the ancestor, and the next
the old world and the grateful dead
funny hats and broken bottles
first the house crumbles, then tomorrow
i walk down avenues not meant for my legs
i linger over thoughts of madness
and maddening thought
i walk to the store to buy a few soldiers
death is a luxury, but only when bought

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The Elements

a man trying to put out a fire
bends his will
he kills a falling ember
then another
he shatters a burning book
then its brother
who is he?
a falling tree
a man seeking a soul
a traveler
strong as the moon
violent
with words upon paper
and all through time
he changes lives
with words upon paper
like a wall of flaming fire
he would make you feel safer
a dream
cold like the dawn
a man trying to save something
to save a life
a life so forlorn
jaded
like the chords of the torn
obliterated and unborn

pale like the coals of the sun
dying and undone
like us all
we always slow down
forgetting our fire
he would put it out
but only to save us
the bad fire
one and twenty years we burned
ashamed
falsified discontinuations
they continue
as always
then the good returns
but bend your knees
be wary of fires
protect the unprotected
and always aspire
follow the words
avoid the spotlight of decay
live
everyday
begin to seek it
just ask
always
distort the unsightly embers of negativity

finally find it
that special and only something
that song
which keeps you wondering
that keeps you going
hold on to it
like you would a dead rose
before it turns into nothing
always
you will see
the night fire
the ever burning spire
it is meant for you
this time
it is good
and of the most evil
love and hate
they are its kin
keep practicing your words
until sweat beads take over
finally fight it
and keep yearning
for the torches to be lit
continue honoring
the man with the gift
the man who lives the fire
the man who cannot die
keep on carving his name
write it on the earth
and into the stone
spread it far and wide
understand
his life or his death
live with him
in his journey
understand
the cold and the dark

Vermilion Wings

what do we do when the matchboxes are empty
winter has come
strike some carbon off the dead presidents
lift the black timber off the floor that spells revenant
end the rumour spilling tumour mill
it’s true, the stapler caught us off guard the other night
the riddler, the rhythmic, truly ruthless
take the red train to Cali, pull the hammy
it’s nothing to worry about really, just some bent meanderings
truth be told, i am a madman
and all that’s left are the deaf tones of piano stands
pavement specials part ways as i walk down the board
the bass drops and the sky darkens with maggots
the hoard forms and all that’s left are the braggarts
bark some more dead man, your heart will soar cave man
music, uplifting, movements, up[root]ing
mouths open and close as i walk to a wall
all they see is the man i was
that man left the world because
all he had left was a little dog and his words
all he wanted was the walls to stay closed
unafraid, stay lost
all he wanted was a good cup of coffee
not the shit served at parliament
not the disk sent to scream lament
lacrimosa in verse, i serve to bring curse
to you and your ilk, your deathly whores
motley monsters of filth abhorred
i know what you serve in your dire view
a block made of purity, constructed of doors
leading nowhere and nowhere is true
i walk unafraid through this world, through the zoo
through the pink condominiums and dainty tracks
johnny filth called, he wants the world back
he wants the black centipedes and all of the lights
he looks to the mountains, not to mention our rights
chitter chatter breaks the wind
then to the pitter patter of little kings
little things, in the night
little wings
call to the bringer of angry kites
the curse will lift when the world is new
the earth will burn until it lays true
to ash and flower of reddish hue
silver blue
colour coded point of view
plenty of words to fill a courtroom
or two